By the time she ventured to look up he had just reached the top of the ridge, and there he turned to look at her.  It was only for an instant, for at that moment the dog barked on the other side.  Hans gave a start, held his gun in readiness, and hurried on.  Mildrid was still gazing at the place where he had stood, when a shot startled her.  Could that be the bear?  Could it have been so near her?

Off she went, climbing where he had just climbed, till she stood where he had stood, shading her eyes with her hand, and—­sure enough, there he was, half hidden by a bush, on his knees beside a huge bear!  Before she knew what she was doing, she was down beside him.  He gave her a smile of welcome, and explained to her, in his low voice, how it had happened that they had lost the track and the dog had not scented the animal till they were almost upon it.  By this time she had forgotten her tears and her bashfulness, and he had drawn his knife to skin the bear on the spot.  The flesh was of no value at this time; he meant to bury the carcass and take only the skin.  So she held, and he skinned; then she ran down to the soeter for an axe and a spade; and although she still felt afraid of the bear, and it had a bad smell, she kept on helping him till all was finished.  By this time it was long past twelve o’clock, and he invited himself to dinner at the soeter.  He washed himself and the skin, no small piece of work, and then came in and sat beside her while she finished preparing the food.

He chatted about one thing and another, easily and pleasantly, in the low voice that seems to become natural to people who are much alone.  Mildrid gave the shortest answers possible, and when it came to sitting opposite him at the table, she could neither speak nor eat, and there was often silence between them.  When she had finished he turned round his chair and filled and lit his pipe.  He too was quieter now, and presently he got up.  “I must be going,” he said, holding out his hand, “it’s a long way home from here.”  Then added, in a still lower voice:  “Do you sit every day where you were to-day?” He held her hand for a moment, expecting an answer; but she dared not look up, much less speak.  Then she felt him press her hand quickly.  “Good-bye, then, and thank you!” he said in a louder tone, and before she could collect herself, she saw him, with the bearskin over his shoulder, the gun in his hand, and the dog at his side, striding away over the heather.  There was a dip in the hills just there, and she saw him clear against the sky; his light, firm step taking him quickly away.  She watched till he was out of sight, then came outside and sat down, still looking in the same direction.