When Jan returned to the yard he heard Lars thundering and swearing in the stable.  Lars was a poor hand with animals.  The horses would kick if he went anywhere near them and he had not been able to get one of the beasts out of its stall the whole time that Jan had been inside talking with the housewife.

It would not have been well for Jan had he offered to help Lars.  Knowing this he went immediately on his other errand, and fetched the hired boy.  He thought it mighty strange that Lars had not told him to speak to Boerje, who was threshing in the barn close by, instead of sending him after the hired boy, who was at work out in the birch-grove, a good way from the farmyard.

And while Jan ran these needless errands, the faint voice under the spruce branches rang in his ears.  The voice was not so imperative now, but it begged and implored him to hasten.  “I’m coming, I’m coming!” Jan whispered back.  He had the sensation of one in a nightmare who tries to run but who cannot take a step.

Lars had at last managed to get a horse into the shafts.  Then the womenfolk came and told him to be sure to take along straw and blankets.  This was all very well, but it meant still further delay.

Finally Lars and Jan and the hired boy drove away from the farm.  But they had got no farther than to the edge of the forest, when Lars stopped the horse.

“One gets sort of rattled when one receives news of this kind,” said he.  “I never thought of it till just now—­but Boerje is back at the barn.”

“It would have been well to have taken him along,” said Jan, “for he’s twice as strong as any of us.”

Then Lars sent the hired boy back to the farm to get Boerje; which meant a long wait.

While Jan sat in the sledge, powerless to act, he felt as though within him opened a big, empty ice-cold void.  It was the awful certainty that they would be too late!

Then at last came Boerje and the boy, all out of breath from running, and now they drove on into the woods.  They went very slowly, though, for Lars had harnessed the old spavined bay to the sledge.  What he had said about his being rattled must have been true, for all at once he wanted to turn in on the wrong road.

“If you go in that direction, we’ll come to Great Peak,” Jan told him; “and we must get to the woods beyond Loby.”

“Yes, I know,” returned Lars, “but farther up there’s a crossroad where it’s better driving.”

“What road might that be?  I’ve never seen it.”

“Wait, and I’ll show you,” said Lars, determined to continue up the mountain.

Now Boerje sided with Jan, so Lars had to give in of course; but precious time had been consumed while they argued with him, and Jan felt as if all the life had &one out of his body.

“Nothing matters now,” thought he.  “Eric of Falla will be beyond our help when we arrive.”

The old bay jogged along the forest road as well as it could, but it had not the strength for a heavy pull like this.  It was poorly shod, and stumbled time after time.  When going uphill the men had to get down from the sledge and walk, and when they came upon trackless unbeaten ground in the thick of the forest the horse was almost more of a hindrance than a help.