When he spoke it was in a sharp, shrill voice, that seemed to be hopping over gravel and stones; but it lingered on an "r" here and there with great satisfaction, rolling it over for several yards, and at the same time making a tremendous leap in pitch.

He had been known in his younger days as a lively but quick-tempered man; in his old age, through much adversity, he had become irritable and suspicious.
Thore and his son came and went many times before Ole could make his way to them; they both knew that he did not come for any good purpose, therefore it was all the more comical that he never got there.

Both had to walk very serious, and talk in a whisper; but as this did not come to an end it became ludicrous.

Only half a word that is to the point can kindle laughter under such circumstances, and especially when it is dangerous to laugh.

When at last Ole was only a few rods distant, but which seemed never to grow less, Oyvind said, dryly, in a low tone,-- "He must carry a heavy load, that man,"-- and more was not required.
"I think you are not very wise," whispered the father, although he was laughing himself.
"Hem, hem!" said Ole, coughing on the hill.
"He is getting his throat ready," whispered Thore.
Oyvind fell on his knees in front of the haycock, buried his head in the hay, and laughed.