And one day they said that he'd been declared an outlaw, so that
any one that liked could kill him. I had great confidence in the
master, who, after all, was the only person that wished me well;
and he comforted me by saying that it would be all right: Knut would
know how to take care of himself."

"Knut? Was it Knut Engstrom?" asked Lasse. "Well, then, I've heard
about him. He was breaking out as wild as the devil the last time
I was in this country, and assaulted people on the high-road in
broad daylight. He killed one man with a hammer, and when they
caught him, he'd made a long gash on his neck from the back right
up to his eye. The other man had done that, he said; he'd only
defended himself. So they couldn't do anything to him. So that was
the man, was it! But who was it he was living with, then? They said
he lived in a shed on the heath that summer, and had a woman with
him."

"I ran away from service, and pretended to the others that I was
going home. I'd heard what a wretched state he was in. They said he
was gashed all over his head. So I went up and took care of him."

"Then you gave in at last," said Lasse, with a roguish wink.

"He beat me every day," she answered hoarsely. "And when he couldn't
get his way, he drove me away at last. I'd set my mind on his being
fond of me first." Her voice had grown coarse and hard again.

"Then you deserved a good whipping for taking a fancy to such
a ruffian! And you may be glad your mother didn't get to know
anything about that, for she'd never have survived it."