THE HAUNTED MILL, AND THE HONEST PENNY
Next morning we woke to find Anders' words too true; the wind still howled, and the rain still poured, deerstalking was out of the question, nor could the girls stir out of the doors to look after the kine. There we were, all house-bound. What was to be done? After breakfast we smoked, and the girls knitted stockings. Anders, for want of something better to do, cleaned our guns and admired their make and locks. But all this was not much towards killing time on the Fjeld, and we had no books.
At last Edward, who was rather afraid of Anders and his jokes on his sportsmanship, whispered to me,
"Can't you make him tell us some more stories? I'll be bound Osborn's Pipe is not the only tale he has in his scrip."
Not a bad thought, but Anders was one of
