Skrim did send for Per.

Per reported for duty some distance away, in the northern part of the district. He was going to town. He was tingling with excitement. He knew what the town looked like from many books and pictures, but still he was excited.

Another boy was there to help with the droving. His name was Hans, and he was the same age as Per. They had been confirmed together, since they belonged to the same parish.

And there was a surprised cow waiting to be led away by Skrim and his drovers. It was the beginning of Skrim's herd, like the source of a river. A woman was standing there waiting with the cow. Skrim checked in his book to see if it was the right one.

"Off you go, then," said Skrim to the cow. It was the drought speaking out of his mouth.

Per and Hans were absorbed and solemn. They had food in their knapsacks; they were going far. The single cow soon had company: at each lane leading off to the farms, cattle were waiting for them. It was a bright autumn morning, with frost in the grass.

So it went. All the farms had been forced to make their sacrifice to the pitiless drought summer. Per and Hans followed the herd; Skrim walked in front.

They came to Bringa. Per had been thinking about it all along. Now they were there.

Bringa lay a short distance above the road. It had a good   [p. 129]   position in the woods. Above it was steep mountainside. The lane down to the main road was gravelled and well kept. There at the gate waiting for Skrim stood the farmer, and Olav, and Åsne Bakken, each with a cow on a rope.

Olav did not know that Per was going as a drover, it was clear. He looked confused. Åsne stood calmly, watching Per. A whole summer had passed over her since he had seen her last. A brown summer. She had grown a good deal too.

"Good day!" she said.

"Good day."

There were the cows. Per noticed that they were standing beside Åsne and that they were accustomed to her. She untied the ropes and gave them up to Skrim. Per watched Åsne, noting how she had grown and changed.

Olav was standing stiffly. He and Per did not look at each other. But just as Per was about to leave, they did so. They gave each other a long look. There was no yearning in it; it was simply long and silent.

"Get going, will you?" said Skrim sharply from up in front.

"Have a good trip!" called Åsne, and raised her arm. Those arms that had raked hay and milked cows this summer; Per gazed at them.

"Why don't you come along too?" called Hans to Åsne teasingly, being free of Per's restraint. He knew Åsne from the confirmation class, and besides he had nothing to hide from her. He was free.

Åsne laughed. "Wish I could," she said. There was longing in her voice. She could say nothing to Per, and he could say nothing to her. Only Hans stood there free.

"Get moving," said Skrim roughly. "See you," he said to the farmer from Bringa.

And they left. Now the Bringa cows were on their way to the big slaughterhouse. Now Åsne, who had milked them, was on her way back to Bringa to stay there for the winter. She would work in the house and milk big, warm animals. Per saw it in a flash, saw her milking big, warm animals.

  [p. 130]  

Now Olav was on his way home to Bringa.

Per pulled himself together and began to drive the herd. The slaughterhouse was the goal of this journey.

More farm gates. More cows. Skrim checked in his terrible book to see if they were the right ones.

They came to the farm called Bufast. Father and Aunt Anne were standing at the gate. It was strange to Per to be approaching it from the north, almost as a stranger---to be stopping at Bufast only briefly while this broad-shouldered farmer and this young woman gave up three cows to the herd.

"Have a good journey," said Auntie.

Father said nothing. He let the cows join the herd and then left. He went down to the farm called Bufast. Per was going out into the world.

Per tried to tell himself that he was going out into the world and would never come back again. At once he felt sad, for he could see it was good to live at Bufast. The buildings were old, weathered to a fine gray; there was a spreading rowan tree in the yard. It was his own farm, and now he was leaving it.

"Have you never seen that farm before?" teased Hans. Hans was drunk with joy because he was going to town that day. Per returned to reality with a start.

The gravel digger came out of his pits. Per had always seen him; he would never change or die, but would pile up round heaps of gravel forever.

"Hi!" he said to Per, like a handshake. Per was proud. Old fellows came out of their gravel pits and called hi! to him. They hurried on.

The Bufast cows kept to the back of the herd. They knew Per and walked just in front of him. That, too, affected him. He could not help remembering that he had seen them as new-born calves with the first milk dribbling out of the corners of their mouths. Now it was another story; now they were off to the big slaughterhouse.

They walked and walked, Skrim relentless and lean up in front. Relentless and lean as the drought summer itself.

  [p. 131]  

The consignments of cows ceased when they left the areas where Skrim did business. In these districts the cattle went to other traders.

It must have been because Per knew they were going to be slaughtered that they seemed to him to be walking differently from other cows. Some of them set up a sudden staccato lowing. Then they dropped their heads again. Per thought about this until he forgot to be happy about the journey for long stretches at a time. Yet Hans remained plump and jolly, without a care in the world.

It was exhausting plodding behind a herd of cows all day. The cows were hungry and snatched at the grass along the wayside, the fresh, tender grass that the rain had at last tempted out. Rain and grass and cattle and flowing milk---you felt it all as something pleasant and attractive. But this herd was written down in Skrim's list and was frightening.

The scent of the potato fields was in the air. In some places people were digging the ripened potatoes. Those on the road could only breathe in the fragrance of the withered, drying potato plants.

Hans laughed aloud.

"What is it?" asked Per.

"Nothing---Skrim crabbing along at the head of his slaughter-herd, and everything!" said Hans.

For two more days they trudged along driving the cattle. The road to town was long when you had cows with you and were unable to drive or go by boat.

They passed through districts that had been spared by the drought. All the cows that were meant to live could do so there.

"We'll get there today," said Skrim.

They arrived late in the afternoon. It was a long way from Bufast.

Per and Hans entered the town. First they left the cows in a pen outside the town, and then they walked in. The air smelled strange.

  [p. 132]  

"It's coal smoke," said Skrim.

Clatter and noise: the roar of traffic, the roar of factories and mills. Tall chimneys pouring out black smoke. Crowds of people and crowds of stores.

Per and Hans certainly did not throw themselves into it. It was like this and like that, just how it ought to be. It tallied with what they already knew. It was like this in all the pictures of towns and in all the stories. They almost had a feeling of being cheated, for they had expected it to be very different from the pictures and the books.

A little later they noticed that they were walking in a fever of excitement just the same. Hans said, "It's fun, but strange." He said it quietly and frankly. Per too thought it fun but strange.

Skrim and the boys went into a small café to eat. The man who was going to buy the cows from Skrim was there too. They sat there for a long time. When they came out again, lights were shining in all the windows.

It was splendid! In some places there were trees growing close to the lamps. That was almost the best thing: the leaves in the strong lamplight.

This was the town. Per and Hans walked about looking at it all. They had very little money to spend. They found themselves wishing they had pocketsful of money so they could go in and buy.

Skrim took them with him down a long, brightly lit street. But the street ended at the dark pen where the cattle were standing. A prolonged, astonished bellow came from the pen.

It was well-built. None of them could escape. Everything was quiet; then one of them bellowed. It was ugly. As they went back through the lighted street, the bellow rang in Per's ears, giving him thoughts which he pushed away from him.

Skrim had reserved rooms for them at a small hotel. They started to go to bed, but there was too much din in the street   [p. 133]   outside. They sat in their chairs for a long time. Skrim had gone away again.

Hans turned a somersault on the floor. "Hey!" he said.

Per wished he could accept the light and noise of the town as simply as Hans. Hey! said Hans, and let what would happen, happen. Nothing seemed to affect him.

Skrim did not return. They crawled into bed. After they had turned out the light, a muted glow shone through the window. It was not the moon; it was the town shining in. On the one side of them came the sound of laughter through the wall, on the other the sound of water---someone was washing himself. Then the washing finished; the laughter ended. Out in the street the noise abated, but the light shone in.

It was impossible to sleep.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Hans.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

Per did not enlighten him, and Hans did not ask again.

Fear of death was in the room. It gripped Per. He could not rid himself of the image of the dark pen full of cattle ready for the slaughter. Fear seeped in through the walls and the window, the old feeling that dreadful things were going to happen, that he would hear the destruction toppling around him.

He thought about God and then about Hell. Something was hanging on a thread and would snap. . . . That lonely bellow from the pen. There was nothing but death all around.

Hans was asleep beside him. Per dozed.

Why had Botolv trembled all over when he realized he was going to die?

Now the street was quiet. But the light shone in. They were in the town. Here it was never dark. Yes, it was dark. Who was that speaking?

"Per!" it said.

"Yes," he replied.

"Can you see me?"

  [p. 134]  

Per was numb. It was dark. And a voice was speaking out of the darkness.

"I'm coming, Per!" said the voice threateningly.

"What!"

Hell---thought Per, Hell---

A hand came out of the darkness, he could not see it, it grabbed at him, he was dying, and he began bellowing wildly, turning up his eyes like the big bull at Bufast. He was dead and was sitting in a bed, thrashing out around him. Someone was lurching and babbling close beside him. He heard a curse. That was how Skrim used to curse when Per was alive and was with him on earth---

Skrim.

"Will you come to your senses!" said Skrim thickly. "You'll knock me out."

It was Skrim! He was alive and drunk. Per was alive too. Thank God, he was alive, and here was Skrim, drunk and smelling of brandy.

The room was there too; the light streamed in. Beside him Hans was sleeping. Alive and asleep. Thank God.

Skrim stood unsteadily, nodding and babbling.

"Go to bed in your own room, Skrim," said Per, curtly and commandingly.

Skrim obeyed on the instant. He muttered something and left. He even remembered to shut the door behind him.

Outside it was silent. What was the time? Here it was peaceful.

The light streamed in through the window silently and uninterruptedly in order that no one should die.

In the morning they woke late. But that was as it should be in town. Townspeople slept late.

The town woke too. Carts rattled past, and people's feet in increasing numbers clattered past as well.

Per and Hans dressed and sat waiting for Skrim. Skrim woke very late in a bad temper, but he gave them breakfast. Then they were allowed to do as they liked: Skrim was going   [p. 135]   to sell the herd, and that was of no interest to boys, he said. "Here's five kroner, and we'll meet again here this evening. I'll have to send you home tomorrow morning by the boat."

They stood thunderstruck.

"Don't you have eyes in your heads? It's five kroner."

They rushed for the door. Five kroner was a lot of money, and their wishes were many and ambitious.

The town was in full swing again, noisy and crowded. Their joy increased. They looked around them, smiling. They smiled so happily and openly that a young girl stopped in front of them and smiled back without being aware of it. Then she started in surprise and hurried away. They were happy; everyone was happy today. Per hid away the anxieties of the night. They took care not to stand staring like country bumpkins, but looked critically at everything they came across.

They went into the shops and bought objects that were cheaper than five kroner, pleased with themselves, paying in cash. They went down to the quay and looked at the boats. They recognized it all from books and pictures.

They forgot to buy food; they were not hungry. They kept away from the slaughterhouse and the cattle. Then they started on a fresh round: boats, tall factory chimneys, a rushing mill, well-dressed people, carts, enormous loads, pretty young girls---more than they had imagined could exist---a huge clock face up on a church wall, people, shop windows, a funeral procession, children, more pretty girls.

At the end of the street they were brought up short: they had come back to the cattle again. It looked as if all the streets finished up at the cattle. The big slaughterhouse lay close by. Skrim and someone else were driving six or seven of the cows in through the gate of the slaughterhouse. Per and Hans turned without a word, dead tired. The clock on the church tower told them that it was five o'clock in the afternoon.

They were hungry, and their money had been exchanged for goods. They went to the hotel and waited for Skrim. A little dejected, a little regretful, they tried the stimulation of   [p. 136]   their newly-purchased cigarettes, but rather apathetically. Tomorrow morning they were going home. Would it be good to be home again? They did not know. It was good not to have to choose.