"The ground under us is moving, the whole field is moving." Her voice shook and she felt a lump in her throat.
"Asch!" said Long-Bengt, and jumped out. He thought it was a ghost that had frightened the horse. But ghosts were supposed to come out of the air; he had never heard of their creeping along the ground.
And now he wasn't long getting back into the chaise himself, nor did he venture out of it again. What the mistress had said was true—the ground certainly appeared to be moving. It did not tremble as in an earthquake, nor glide away as in a landslide; but it was as if every clod of earth in the field had taken feet and was running toward the lake.
The two in the chaise sat gazing at the ground—and at last they saw what it was that moved: the field was over-run by hordes of little animals; but they were none the less frightened, the two of them. It couldn't be anything real or natural, they thought. Where had they come from—all those creatures? Every spot in the field was alive with them!
The animals—or whatever they were—scurried across the ditch up on to the road and then went rushing down an incline into the lake. Now what sort of creatures could they be, to behave in that way? Had they been of God's creation there would surely have been some end to them; but these kept coming in limitless numbers.
The horse had now become fairly calm. Only when
