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Just as they were beginning to get warm they heard two or three loud knocks at the door. It was the ogre who had come home. His wife immediately made the children hide under the bed, and went to open the door. The ogre first asked if his supper was ready, and if she had drawn the wine, and with that he sat down to his meal. The mutton was all but raw, but he liked it all the better for that. He sniffed right and left, saying that he smelt fresh meat. "It must be the calf I have just skinned," said his wife. "I tell you, I smell fresh meat," replied the ogre, giving an angry glance at his wife; "there is something here I do not understand." With these words, he rose from the table and went straight towards the bed. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "so this is the way in which you would deceive me, you wretched woman! I do not know what hinders me from eating you also! It is well for you that you are such an old creature! But here is some game, which comes in handy, and will serve to feast three of my ogre friends, who are soon coming to pay me a visit." He dragged the children from under the bed, one after the other. They fell upon their knees, begging for mercy, but they had to deal with the most cruel of all the ogres, and who, far from feeling pity for them, devoured them already with his eyes, and said to his wife that they would be dainty bits, when she had made a good sauce for them. He went and took up a large knife, and as he came towards the children again, he whetted it on a long stone that he held in his left hand. He had already seized one of them, when his wife said to him, "Why are you doing that at this hour of night? Will it not be time enough to-morrow?" "Hold your peace," replied the ogre. "They will be the more tender." "But you have already too much food," continued his wife. "Here are a calf, two sheep, and half a pig." "You are right," said the ogre, "give them a good supper, that they may keep plump, and then put them to bed." The good woman was rejoiced, and brought them plenty of supper; but they could not eat, they were so overcome with fright. As for the ogre, he seated himself to drink again, delighted to think he had such a treat in store for his friends. He drained a dozen goblets more than usual, which made him feel sleepy and heavy, and obliged him to go to bed. “No, no, thank you, John. I am willing to believe that you are very strong.” SUPERSTITION.

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Jerry recognized the type at once. It was a desert rat, one of those old men who, lured by the dream of gold, haunt the desert, usually alone. Years pass over their heads in the search which never ends. At last the gold mine that they will find some day becomes merely the excuse not the aim of the unending pilgrimage. The desert, the loneliness is claiming them. If they found a mine worth the developing, probably they would sell it and blow in the proceeds and be off again as soon as possible. They have been too long away from civilization for anything to surprise them. The desert is mysterious, the loneliness makes everything possible. But to be for a century bound “Indeed?” Aunt Grenertsen looked at the little old stamp dubiously, turning it round and round. “Aren’t you glad to have it?”.