While he was marching along, lost in these reflections, Beret was trotting at his side, always, when she could, with her face turned towards his.  Now and then he had caught a glimpse of her big eyes and flaming cheeks; but his thoughts were like a veil over his sight; he saw her indistinctly, and then suddenly not at all.  He turned round; she was a good way behind, toiling after him as hard as she could.  She had been too proud to say that she could not keep up with him any longer.  He stood and waited till she made up to him, breathless, with tears in her eyes.  “Ah!  I’m walking too fast,” and he held out his hand.  She was panting so that she could not answer.  “Let us sit down a little,” he said, drawing her to him; “come!” and he made her sit close to him.  If possible she got redder than before, and did not look at him; and she drew breath so painfully that it seemed as if she were almost choking.  “I’m so thirsty!” was the first thing she managed to say.  They rose and he looked round, but there was no stream near.  “We must wait till we get a little farther on,” he said; “and anyhow it wouldn’t be good for you to drink just now.”

So they sat down again, she on a stone in front of him.

“I ran the whole way,” she said, as if to excuse herself—­and presently added, “and I have had no dinner,” and after another pause—­“and I didn’t sleep last night.”

Instead of expressing any sympathy with her, he asked sharply:  “Then I suppose Mildrid did not sleep last night either?  And she has not eaten, I saw that myself, not for”—­he thought a little—­“not for ever so long.”

He rose.  “Can you go on now?”

“I think so.”

He took her hand, and they set off again at a tremendous pace.  Soon he saw that she could not keep it up, so he took off his coat, gave it to her to hold, and lifted her up and carried her.  She did not want him to do it, but he just went easily off with her, and Beret held on by his neckerchief, for she dared not touch him.  Soon she said that she had got her breath and could run quite well again, so he put her down, took his coat and hung it over his gun—­and off they went!  When they came to a stream they stopped and rested a little before she took a drink.  As she got up he gave her a friendly smile, and said:  “You’re a good little one.”

Evening was coming on when they reached the soeter.  They looked in vain for Mildrid, both there and at her place on the hillside.  Their calls died away in the distance, and when Hans noticed the dog standing snuffing at something they felt quite alarmed.  They ran to look—­it was her little shawl.  At once Hans set the dog to seek the owner of the shawl.  He sprang off, and they after him, across the hill and down on the other side, towards Tingvold.  Could she have gone home?  Beret told of her own thoughtless question and its consequences, and Hans said he saw it all.  Beret began to cry.

“Shall we go after her or not?” said Hans.