"Good-evening," he said, as he stopped in front of her father. "I have
something I wish to speak with you about."
"Speak on, young man," answered Tharald, rubbing away imperturbably at
one of the blinders. "Elsie isn't likely to blab, even if what you say
is worth blabbing."
"It is a more serious affair than you think," continued Fern,
thrusting his peaked staff deep into the sod. "If the glacier goes on
advancing at this rate, your farm is doomed within a year."
The old peasant raised his grizzly head, scratched with provoking
deliberation the fringe of beard which lined his face like a frame,
and stared with a look of supercilious scorn at his informant.
"If our fare don't suit you," he growled, "you needn't stay. We
shan't try to keep you."
"I had no thought of myself," retorted Fern, calmly; for he had by
this time grown somewhat accustomed to his host's disagreeable ways.
"You will no doubt have observed that the glacier has, within the last
thirty years, sent out a new branch to the westward, and if this
branch continues to progress at its present rate, nothing short of a
miracle can save you. During the first week after my arrival it
advanced fifteen feet, as I have ascertained by accurate measurements,
and during the last seven days it has shot forward nineteen feet more.
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