[Subsection]

We'll have to reduce the herd this autumn.

It hung over the herd of cows more threateningly than the black cloud of flies. It was said each time two men met on the road. It was said each time anyone dropped in at the kitchen at Bufast. At the counter in the store it was said more often than anywhere else.

"There'll be fine herds going to the town this autumn," said Ivar.

"Don't talk about it," said Auntie. She felt haunted. There was something about it from which you recoiled; you refused to think about it. Mother said, "Go get us more water, Per."

He went to get Goldie. He had learned how to harness him. He did so and rattled down the slope towards the river with   [p. 126]   the empty water barrel. Father and Ivar were lying in the yard resting after dinner.

It was fun holding the reins, but not while others were resting. Åsmund went with him. Knut Prikken had left, so Åsmund tagged after Per wherever he went.

Per carried the buckets across the dried-out beach of sand between the bank and the little trickle of water still flowing like an eel. Goldie stood stamping and flicking at the flies. Åsmund stood and held the reins, Goldie looking at him as if wanting to say something.

Per walked along the white mounds of dry sand. It wasn't right: this was the bottom and should have had clear water flowing over it. This was what it was like outside himself, and he was like this inside as well, plodding along through dry, hot sand and fields of thistles.