“Tie thyself up behind first, black Gyri!” giggled the others.
And immediately she let the lad go, and wobbled and twisted, and went backwards so oddly.
He couldn’t help staring after the black lassie, who stood and writhed and twisted so uncomfortably, as if she were concealing something behind her, and had, all at once, become so meek.
But the fine bright girl with the slim slender waist, who had rushed on before him, and who seemed to him the loveliest of them all, began to laugh at him again and tease him.
Run as he might, he shouldn’t catch her, she jibed and jeered; never should he find his drumsticks again, she said.
But then her mood shifted right round, and she flung herself down headlong, and began to cry. She had followed his drumming the whole day, she said, and never had she heard any fellow who could beat rat-tat-tat so well; nor had she ever seen a lad who was so handsome while he was asleep. “I kissed thee then,” said she, and smiled up at him so sorrowfully.
“Beware of the serpent’s tongue, lest it bite thee, swain! ’Tis worst of all when it licks thee first,” whispered the bashful one with the golden-red hair. She would fain have stolen between them so softly.
And all at once the swain recollected the snake, which was as slender, and supple, and quick, and sparkling as the girl who lay there on the hillside, and wept and made fun at the same time and looked oddly alert and wary.
But a stooping, somewhat clumsy little thing now stuck her head quickly in between, and smiled shamefacedly at him, as if she knew and could tell him so much. Her eyes sparkled a long way inwards, and across her face there passed a sort of pale golden gleam, as when the last sunbeam slowly draws away from the grassy mountain slope.
“At my place,” said she, “thou shalt hear such Langelejk39 as none else has ever heard. I will play for thee, and thou shalt listen to things unknown to others. Thou shalt hear all that sings, and laughs, and cries in the roots of trees, and in the mountains, and in all things that grow, so that thou wilt never trouble thy head about anything else in the world.”
Then there was a scornful laugh; and up on a rock he saw a tall strongly built girl, with a gold band in her hair and a huge wand in her hand.
She lifted a long wooden trumpet with such splendid powerful arms, threw back her neck with such a proud and resolute air, and stood firm and fast as a rock while she blew.
And it sounded far and wide through the summer evening, and rang back again across the hills.
But she, the prettiest and daintiest of them all, who had cast herself on the ground, stuck her fingers in her ears, and mimicked her and laughed and jeered.
Then she glanced up at him with her blue eyes peeping through her ashen-yellow hair, and whispered—
“If thou dost want me, swain, thou must pick me up.”
“She has a strong firm grip for a gentle maiden,” thought he to himself, as he raised her from the ground.
“But thou must catch me first,” cried she.
And right towards the house they ran—she first, and he after her.
Suddenly she stopped short, and putting both arms akimbo, looked straight into his eyes: “Dost like me?” she asked.
The swain couldn’t say no to that. He had now got hold of her, and would have put his arm round her.
“ ’Tis for thee to have a word in the matter, father,” she shouted all at once in the direction of the house; “this swain here would fain wed me.”
And she drew him hastily towards the hut door.
There sat a little grey-clad old fellow, with a cap like a milk-can on his head, staring at the livestock on the mountainside. He had a large silver jug in front of him.
“ ’Tis the homestead westward in the Blue Mountains that he’s after, I know,” said the old man, nodding his head, with a sly look in his eyes.
“Haw, haw! That’s what they’re after, is it?” thought the swain. But aloud he said, “ ’Tis a great offer, I know; but methinks ’tis a little hasty too. Down our way ’tis the custom to send two go-betweens first of all to arrange matters properly.”
“Thou didst send two before thee, and here they be,” quoth she smartly, and produced his drumsticks.
“And ’tis usual with us, moreover, to have a look over the property first; though the lass herself have wit enough and to spare,” added he.
Then she all at once grew so small, and there was a nasty green glitter in her eyes—
“Hast thou not run after me the livelong day, and wooed me right down in the enclosure there, so that my father both heard and saw it all?” cried she.
“Pretty lasses are wont to hold back a bit,” said the swain, in a wheedling sort of way. He perceived that he must be a little subtle here; it was not all love in this wooing.
Then she seemed to bend her body backwards into a complete curve, and shot forward her head and neck, and her eyes sparkled.
But the old fellow lifted his stick from his knee, and she stood there again as blithe and sportive as ever.
She stretched herself out tall and stiff, with her hands in her silver girdle; and she looked right into his eyes and laughed, and asked him if he was one of those fellows who were afraid of the girls. If he wanted her he might perchance be run off his legs again, said she.
Then she began tripping up and down, and curtseying and making fun of him again.
But all
