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Still, he did not understand why the measles flies had not
shot their rays at grandfather, or why Mogul was not
affected. On the other hand, the way they behaved, there
were a few cows that certainly had the measles.
What they should do was go up to the small lake,
Hoyvíkstjørn, and out into the Konmansm
ý
ri marsh and eat
grass and clover and thyme; their calves could frolic so that
they sprang straight into the air. Sometimes the cattle
grazed all the way up near Svartafoss, and when Betta and
the children went up there to pick berries one sunny day
last summer, they saw several white ravens and a heron
fishing in the falls.
Svartafoss was not as high a waterfall as Villingardalsfoss,
and it was also lower than the streams that cast themselves
over the cliffs at Kaldbaksbotn, but Svartafoss was still nicer
than any other waterfall. The rocks were black, and when
the sun shone they were wonderfully warm to touch and sit
on. Small red flowers glinted among the plants that grew
along the stream and hung from the rocks, and in the rock
crevices you could see bunches of yellow roseroots. L
ýð
ar
called the high reeds that grew north of the waterfall “grass
knives,” and they were so sharp you could cut yourself on
them.
Their mother said that rainbows also loved Svartafoss, and
her children believed her. It was at Svartafoss that the
rainbows’ colors were mixed. After that, proud and