Giants in the earth

I

THAT summer Per Hansa was transported, was carried farther and ever farther away on the wings of a wondrous fairy tale—a romance in which he was both prince and king, the sole possessor of countless treasures. In this, as in all other fairy tales, the story grew ever more fascinating and dear to the heart, the farther it advanced. Per Hansa drank it in; he was like the child who constantly cries: “More—more!”

These days he was never at rest, except when fatigue had overcome him and sleep had taken him away from toil and care. But this was seldom, however; he found his tasks too interesting to be a burden; nothing tired him, out here. Ever more beautiful grew the tale; ever more dazzlingly shone the sunlight over the fairy castle.

How could he steal the time to rest, these days? Was he not owner of a hundred and sixty acres of the best land in the world? Wasn’t his title to it becoming more firmly established with every day that passed and every new-broken furrow that turned?... He gazed at his estate and laughed happily, as if at some pleasant and amusing spectacle.... Such soil! Only to sink the plow into it, to turn over the sod—and there was a field ready for seeding.... And this was not just ordinary soil, fit for barley, and oats, and potatoes, and hay, and that sort of thing; indeed, it had been meant for much finer and daintier uses; it was the soil for wheat, the king of all grains! Such soil had been especially created by the good Lord to bear this noble seed; and here was Per Hansa, walking around on a hundred and sixty acres of it, all his very own!

A beautiful, alluring thought had begun to beckon him. His first quarter-section was rightly only tillage land; the quarter next to it to the east would be about what he needed for hay and pasture for the cattle; yes, he could even use the one to the west of it, too, if his plans worked out; but he wanted the one to the east first, for it had open water on the creek. These two quarter-sections would make an estate more magnificent than that of many a king of old.... He never mentioned this dream to anyone; he could see no way at present of getting hold of another quarter; but his boys were growing bigger day by day; in time they would be able to earn the wherewithal.... No hurry yet ... this was just the beginning!

And there were many other tantalizing, delectable thoughts, of things that would have to come first, before the fine estate was won. The live stock, for instance; in the course of time he would have great numbers—horses and pigs and cattle, chickens and ducks and geese—animals both big and small, of every kind. There would be quacking and grunting, mooing and neighing, from every nook and corner of the farm.... The place would need plenty of life, for his Beret to mother!

But dearest to him of all, and most delectable, was the thought of the royal mansion which he had already erected in his mind. There would be houses for both chickens and pigs, roomy stables, a magnificent storehouse and barn ... and then the splendid palace itself! The royal mansion would shine in the sun—it would stand out far and wide! The palace itself would be white, with green cornices; but the big barn would be as red as blood, with cornices of driven snow. Wouldn’t it be beautiful—wasn’t it going to be great fun!... And he and his boys would build it all!

And stranger things than this transpired in fancy—just as in the fairy tale: they seemed to lie enchanted under the most prosaic and deceptive semblances, invisible to the eye of man; but then he came and touched them, pouring on a few drops from the magic horn; the charm was instantly broken, and behold, treasures sprang forth, shining in all their newborn freshness and beauty!... Just now, for instance, he beheld a vision so fair that his face shone with a glowing light that transfigured his coarse features; he had suddenly discovered a new object outside the palace of his dreams.... Yes, sir—there it was! Nothing less than a snow-white picket fence around a big, big garden! And many trees grew there, both within and without; some bore apples, others various kinds of fruit: and some ... some had cones ... yes, trees with pine cones on them!... Per Hansa’s eyes swam and shone; a sudden moisture dimmed his sight; dear God, there really were pine cones hanging from some of the trees!... He didn’t know where they waited for him, those trees ... but they would come!...

And so Per Hansa could not be still for a moment. A divine restlessness ran in his blood; he strode forward with outstretched arms toward the wonders of the future, already partly realized. He seemed to have the elfin, playful spirit of a boy; at times he was irresistible; he had to caress everything that he came near.... But he never could be still. To remain inactive over the Sabbath would drive him into a fit of ill humour; by noon he had to go outdoors and stir around. If nothing else turned up, he took a long jaunt over the prairies; on these trips he selected many a pretty spot that would be a fine site for a home.... Some day a settler will locate here, he thought; I’ll remember this, and show him where to build!... Wherever he went, no matter how far, he found the same kind of soil.

... Endless it was, and wonderful!...

II

One Sunday evening the boys had come home wild with excitement. They had made a long trip westward on the prairie to some big swamps which lay out there, with tall grass growing from them, and long stretches of open water in between. They told of thousands upon thousands of ducks, so tame that you could almost take them in your hand. Store-Hans vowed that never in his life had he seen anything like it. He described the ducks, how many and how tame they were, until the words stuck in his throat, and his whole body trembled; his brother raged on even worse.

From then on the boys were always talking about the ducks. Was there no way to get them?... But they had no shotgun, the father said, and Old Maria had not been built for that purpose; as it was, they had only a small supply of “feed” for her, which must be kept in case ... well, no one could tell. Just what it was that “no one could tell,” he didn’t say; but they understood this much that no ducks would ever be shot with that gun. So the ducks continued to live there, swimming leisurely about in countless numbers, and flying from one pond to the next whenever the boys came too close. And not even a good-sized pebble to be found ... plague take it all!

Ever since the boys had first discovered the ducks they had made a practice of going out to look at them every Sunday. Each time the birds seemed to have multiplied in numbers. Soon the boys never pretended to speak of anything else between themselves; they thought only of the ducks, and of how to get hold of them.... Their father had not yet found time to go with them and behold this wonder.

Then one Sunday afternoon, in the early part of August, Per Hansa went for a stroll westward with Store-Hans. Ole was told to stay at home; it would never do to let mother sit there alone, the father said, when she had three grown men in the family; Ole, the older of the two boys, would have to take his turn first. The boy raised such a commotion over this disappointment that his mother said they had better take him along. The father was firm, however; next Sunday he himself would stay at home, and then Ole could go; but to-day the boy must do as he had been told.

So it fell to Per Hansa and Store-Hans to make the trip alone. Plenty of ducks there were, no doubt about that. When he first saw the place Per Hansa was reminded of the great bird cliffs in Finmarken. Store-Hans pointed at the birds, whispering hoarsely to his father, until he choked, and tears came in his eyes.

—Wasn’t there any possible way to get a few of ’em?

—Well—the father seemed quite serious—one might try salt on their tails.

—Salt on their tails? Was that any good?

—Oh yes—they often did it in the olden days.

But then the father had to laugh, and that spoiled it all. As he stood there gazing longingly at the birds no boy could have been more thrilled by the wonderful spectacle. By George! there would have to be some way out of this fix; he’d have to make a way when he got time to cast about!... Maybe the fairy tale had nothing to say about the king’s having a shotgun; but he ate plenty of ducks, just the same!... What had been done once could be done again!

Store-Hans didn’t exactly approve of his father’s jocular air; this was no fooling matter. If he only wanted to, he could easily rig up some sort of a contrivance for catching them; he could work miracles when he tried ... Well then, why didn’t he begin to get busy. He certainly saw how thick they were!...

But Store-Hans had to possess his soul in patience awhile longer; no birds were captured on their first trip to the swamps.

It was on the way home from this trip that Per Hansa made his startling discovery. Store-Hans had taken a short cut home; he had to hurry back and tell his brother what they had seen. But the father never liked to follow an old path while there was still unexplored land left around him; accordingly, he made a long détour to the westward. He had often wondered how far west his land extended, but had never taken the time to pace it off. Since he was headed in that direction now, he might as well pace down the western border line of his and his neighbours’ new kingdom.

He had a pretty good idea of the location of Tönseten’s south line, as well as of the corners on it where his east and west lines began; the southeast corner, in fact, was near Tönseten’s house. He cut across country until he judged himself to be about on this south line, and walked east for some distance; then he decided that it would be too far to go all the way in, just to pick up the corner; so he turned west again. He would have to be satisfied with an approximate position of Tönseten’s southwest corner to-day.... About here, it ought to be, he thought; he stopped, gazed around, and took his bearings for the walk north. He had been following this course for perhaps a hundred paces when the toe of his boot suddenly struck against a small stake—a little fellow who stood hiding there, nodding in drowsy lonesomeness, just at the edge of a thick tuft of grass. Per Hansa looked down, saw the stake, and brought up with a violent start.... Here was Tönseten’s southwest corner! What, had Syvert been so cautious as to put down stakes here, too? A very careful man was Syvert, indeed!

Per Hansa bent down closer to examine the stake. Yes, he was right—it was a corner stake; there stood the description, indicating both section and quarter. But the name below ... the name ... good God! what was this? He dropped to his knees and peered at it until the letters danced before his eyes; he wondered if he were dreaming. The name on the stake wasn’t S. H. Tönseten at all, as it should have been; it was just O’Hara ... nothing else but O’Hara! The letters had been carved on the stake with a knife, and the arrow pointed east, to Tönseten’s quarter!... When Per Hansa finally rose, he smoothed the grass carefully over with his hand, where his knees had bent it to the ground; the action was quite involuntary.

... “Well!” he exclaimed, and walked hastily away. But presently he stopped, turned around, and went back to the stake, to read the name once more. In order to be sure that his eyes hadn’t deceived him, he spelled it out letter by letter, tracing the carving with his forefinger.... No doubt about it—the thing was true!

And now he laid his course to the northward, walking slowly. The radiant, happy look had vanished from his face; it looked old and worn. All at once, as if struck by a new thought, he quickened his pace. He hurried on until he had reached the vicinity of Hans Olsa’s south line, dividing his land from Tönseten’s; here he began to search the ground, first to the eastward, then to the westward, working slowly forward into the next quarter-section.

At last he found it—another stake, Hans Olsa’s southwest corner!... He looked carefully around; no one was in sight. Then he fell on his knees and examined the stake; he didn’t bother to glance at the description this time; but the name—the name! Tears suddenly came to his eyes as he stooped over; for an instant he found it hard to see.... But there it was, exactly as he had feared; this stake had Joe Gill carved on it ... Joe Gill, when it should have been H. P. Olsen!... He got up at last; his round, jovial face now looked drawn and sinister.

Moving mechanically, he strode toward the north until he had reached the line between Hans Olsa’s quarter and his own; there he repeated his tactics of a while before, zigzagging back and forth over a broad space; but though he kept tacking around for a long time, he was unable to locate any stake. That a stake was there, however, he felt very certain; it was unthinkable that this misfortune should have befallen both Tönseten and Hans Olsa, and not have run him down at the same time.... He searched until he had to give it up in despair; then he went north to the line between himself and Henry Solum, and fell to searching in this locality; but no, he couldn’t find any stake here, either. It was now growing so late that he had to quit and go home.... A short while before, he had been as happy and light-hearted as a child; he came home full of a weariness greater than he had ever known....

III

... By God! the trolls must be after him! It was only natural that he should meet them somewhere out here; but to think of their coming in just this dirty fashion!... Ah, well, trolls were trolls, no matter how they came!...

Per Hansa didn’t know what to do with himself that evening; he felt that the only thing that would relieve him just now would be to hitch the oxen to the plow and break a stretch of new land. He looked longingly at the oxen, and at the plow over yonder.... No, it was the Sabbath—and evening already.

His discovery had been so utterly disheartening that he could not have mentioned it to anyone for the price of his soul. He would have liked to tell his wife about it, and hear her opinion; but that was out of the question; she was disturbed enough already.... But Per Hansa had to do something, or he would go mad; he walked across the yard and sat down on the woodpile; there he remained a long while, staring listlessly at the ground.

... These trolls would not be easy to cope with—not if he knew them!... But why hadn’t he been able to discover their tracks on his own quarter? That was the strangest thing of all!

The boys were only waiting for a chance to talk with their father, now he had been west to the swamps and had seen how thick the birds were there. They came up and spoke to him, but got no response; first one of them tried, and then the other; soon they both were talking at him together; a little later their mother came out and asked him something, but he paid no attention. He sat there in a silence like a stone wall....

He’s probably thinking of the ducks, Store-Hans decided; the knowledge made him very happy. Of course he was thinking of the ducks, and would soon hit upon some fine way to capture them!... At last Store-Hans could no longer restrain himself; he edged over to his father’s side, laid his hand on the stout thigh, and said in a deep joy:

... “Weren’t there a lot of ’em, Dad?” ...

“What?”

“Did you ever see so many ducks in all your life?”

“Ducks?... No.”

“You think we can get some of them, don’t you?” asked the boy, in a hushed, confidential tone.

But the father made no answer; he was already far away and did not hear. Just then the mother came out with the milk pail on her arm and called loudly to Rosie. This reached Per Hansa’s ears; he got up and took the pail from her.... “I might as well do the milking, since I’m only sitting here idling away my time.” ... He seemed so absent-minded that she looked hard at him; as he walked away his head drooped forward, his shoulders were slouched down, his whole body seemed strangely shrunken....

The next morning he was up earlier than usual; he left the house without saying a word. As soon as he was gone, Beret got up and went to the window to see what became of him. The early dawn was still in the sky; she saw him stride off westward; soon the slope of the hill hid him from view.... It’s only the ducks, she thought; I’m glad that he and the boys have found some diversion; but just the same, he ought not to wear himself out over such trifling things.... Beret turned away from the window, her face heavy with sadness.

The boys were up and the food was on the table when Per Hansa returned.... He was heated as if from a brisk walk, his wife noticed. She had to look at him a second time; there was something queer about his face this morning; it seemed so hard set and forbidding; although it glowed with the heat of his body, it lacked any warmth of expression. Instinctively she asked:

“Is anything wrong with you, Per?”

“No.” ... But he did not look up.

As soon as he had eaten he left the table, telling the boys to come along and help him; now was a good time to pace out the west line of their land; it had to be done soon, anyway; perhaps they would break a stretch of ground out there.... His words sounded cold and distant; he went out, and said no more.

Beret watched him narrowly.... There’s certainly something the matter with him, she thought.

Striking west from the house, Per Hansa paralleled his own south line, between his land and Hans Olsa’s; he knew exactly how far in from this line the house had been built; so he merely kept along with it, counting the paces. When he had reached the western limit of his quarter, he stood still; the grass had been trampled down all over the place.... “This is where it ought to be; the line should run straight north from here.” ... He walked a few paces north to show them the direction.... “There ought to be a small black stake driven down in the grass here somewhere, but I can’t seem to find it. Let’s go south first; look sharp and see if you can’t pick it up. If we don’t find it there, we’ll go the other way. Keep your eyes open, now, every step!”

“When did you put a stake down here?” asked Ole.

His father apparently didn’t hear him.... “It ought to be right here; funny, that we can’t find it!... The cattle must have tramped it into the ground.”

All three of them kept searching steadily the whole forenoon; the father seemed so excited, and walked so fast, that the boys could hardly keep up with him. They made tack after tack, north until they stood on Henry’s land, south to Hans Olsa’s; they did not go in single file, but walked abreast, four or five paces apart.

... “Look in the grass, boys—look carefully in the grass!” the father repeated a thousand times.

Whenever they reached the end of the line they zigzagged east and west; they looked everywhere, and combed the ground; but with all their labour and painstaking care, no stake could be found. The boys noticed something very odd about their father’s manner: the longer their search went on unsuccessfully, the less impenetrable became that wall of isolation around him. When they finally stopped on the last tack, looked around, and saw that they had covered every possible place, his voice sounded almost joyful.... “It must be that the cows have tramped it down!... Well, no harm done ... it was nothing but an old stick, anyway.”

Beret soon came to realize that he was absorbed in things of which she was not to know. Whenever she happened to speak to him unexpectedly he seemed to be present and yet absent; even when he made an effort to converse naturally, he kept her at a distance; all his ardour seemed to have disappeared, and with it the childlike joyousness that she had loved so much in him, though she had been unable to respond to it.... No more did she hear his cheerful, fairy-tale banter about the royal mansion, and the king and queen; she was aware how often he lay awake at night, or tossed restlessly about in his sleep.... In a short while she became fully convinced that something had happened at last which he had to conceal from her; but she could not imagine what it might be. The whole affair was so unlike him, that it worried her night and day.... What, in Heaven’s name, could there be to conceal out here?

This mood lasted with him throughout the week. On the morning of the next Monday he was up early.... Beret had been lying awake the latter part of the night, feeling keenly that he was wrestling beside her with a monster which would not leave him in peace; but after a while she had fallen asleep again. When she finally opened her eyes the dim grey of dawn was creeping through the window; her husband was up and gone. The room somehow gave her the sensation that he must have left a long time ago; not a sound could be heard anywhere.... Beret got up, dressed herself hurriedly, and went outdoors. The plow was still there, she noticed, and the oxen lay a short distance from the house; but Per Hansa was nowhere in sight.... She felt so forlorn, so helpless, filled as she was with gnawing loneliness. Here she stood, abandoned in the great solitude, not knowing where he had gone nor what the trouble was.... What had happened to him? What was he struggling with, that had to be kept from her?... She called his name aloud a couple of times; but her voice trembled so strangely that she did not dare to call again. The sound died away unheeded.... It seemed to Beret that she had never felt the awful desolation of the place weigh so heavily upon her as on this morning.

In the meantime Per Hansa was engaged in a very curious task west on the prairie. He had risen before daylight; had gone out and hunted up the spade, which he had stuck under his arm; then he had started off in a general westerly direction. He made a longer détour than necessary around Hans Olsa’s house, watching closely as he went by to see if anyone there was up and stirring; once safely past, he quickened his gait.... So he came to a place at the southwest corner of Hans Olsa’s land, where a black imp stood nodding sleepily in the grass; there he came to a halt and looked about in all directions.... Not a soul to be seen. His eyes were snapping now; his mouth was tight and drawn; all his features seemed hardened into solid rock.... “God!” he muttered, “Hans Olsa has got himself into a nice mess!” ... He grasped the thing firmly, pulled it slowly out of the ground, and laid it aside with great care. Then he examined the hole, planning what he had better do; when he was finished, it was going to be hard to see that here a stake had ever been standing! He worked now with deep forethought and cunning; first he brought some loose soil from a distance in the spade, and filled the hole almost to the top; next he stopped it up with a sod plug; the grass of the plug grew as stout and green as that around it; he also took good care not to tramp down the grass near the hole, placing his feet lightly, as if he were afraid to rest his full weight on them.

At last he had finished and stood regarding his handiwork.... “If they only give the grass time to grow a little. I’ll be damned if they can chase Hans Olsa away on account of that stick of wood!” ... Then Per Hansa went on to the place when he had found the stake of Tönseten’s land; here he repeated the performance, but was even more careful not to trample down the grass.

When he returned home that morning he did not arrive from the west, but from the north. The boys were eating breakfast; the mother was busy, but she kept a watch through the window; she saw him come into the yard, stop by the woodpile and throw down the spade—then pause and glance hastily toward the house; but she went on with her work as if she had noticed nothing. Soon after she heard his footfall outside, passing along the wall.... He had gone into the stable!... He stayed there for some time before he came into the house.

As he entered the room Beret glanced at him from the corner of her eye.... Yes, there he stood, the man she knew ... but in his face shone something hard and menacing.... To-day they were going to plow, he told the boys—yes, plow! Both they and the oxen would get their bellyful.... His voice had the same unnatural, metallic hardness as his face; it seemed as if sparks flew when he spoke.

The stable was unoccupied as yet; at present it served as tool room, carpenter shop, and storehouse combined; Beret also used it for hanging spare clothes.... After they were gone, she happened to go into the stable looking for some garments that needed mending. There, quite by chance, she found the stakes; Per Hansa had hidden them behind the clothes. Burnt black to withstand the moisture, they hardly differed in colour from the walls; she would not have seen them at all, except for the carved letters; these stood out in the natural colour of the wood and looked like large worms in the black sod; they startled her—she had to see what they were. She picked the two stakes up and stood turning them over in her hands.... Here were some figures and letters ... more letters, that joined together and made something like names.... “Joe Gill,” said one; the other, “O’Hara.” ...

... What strange names, she thought.... Did people really have such names? If so, they must be Indians!... She kept turning the stakes over and over. The ends tapered down to a sharp point; they must have been made to stand in the ground; in fact, little particles of soil were clinging to them now. Where could Per Hansa have found them?... She put them back, found the garments she was looking for, returned to the house, and sat down to mend....

But she could not dismiss those mysterious stakes from her mind.... What did the numbers mean ... the numbers and letters ... and then, the names?... They must be landmarks. And they had been standing in the ground, too.... It suddenly occurred to her that he must have put them in there recently; it was only last week that she had hung up those clothes.... Perhaps ... could he have done it this very morning?... She laid her work aside and went out to the stable to examine them once more.... Yes, certainly they had been in the ground—just so far down they had been!

Back at her sewing again, her hands moved more and more slowly as she thought.... He had been struggling with something which must be kept from her.... His voice was sharper to-day, his face more determined.... It must be that he had brought them back with him this morning....

... Her thoughts slowly began to spin; the longer they spun, the less she liked the web; after a while she became so frightened that her hand shook and she had to drop her sewing....

When he came home for dinner, she told herself, she would ask him for an explanation of this matter; her fear was somewhat appeased by this resolution.... But then he came, still in a rigid, forbidding mood; and her thoughts grew so unspeakably dark and ugly that she could not utter them. At the same time, he seemed relieved in a measure, and more like himself.

After supper that night she heard him go into the stable and rummage around; then he came out and went across the yard. She stole to her post at the window; there he stood by the block, chopping up a stick of wood; it was burnt black, and tapered at one end; it had stood in the ground. He picked up every piece that he had split and cut them into short kindling wood!... He took another black stick and did the same with it.... Then he went down on his knees and began to gather the kindling, piece by piece, on his arm.... Now, what in the world.... Here he came, bringing it all into the house!...

Beret had timidly withdrawn to the corner by the stove; he saw her standing there but did not look at her directly; then he took off the lid of the stove and dumped in the armful of kindling.

... “Are you making a fire now?”

“Just some rubbish I picked up around the chopping block.”

She wanted to run around the stove and stop him, but could not; she felt that her knees would not carry her even those few steps. A question trembled on her lips; she must ask him now ... but the words would not come ... her tongue refused to obey.

... No, she could not ask such a question!... It was so hideous, so utterly appalling, the thought which she harboured; God forgive him, he was meddling with other folks’ landmarks!... How often she had heard it said, both here and in the old country: a blacker sin than this a man could hardly commit against his fellows!9

She stood motionless in the corner beyond the stove, watching her husband burn the proofs of his guilt; the terror that possessed her now was immeasurably greater than that which she had felt in the morning, when she had called his name and got no answer....

... That night Per Hansa slept the sleep of the righteous in spite of what he had done; now it was Beret who had a monster to wrestle with....

V

During the weeks that followed. Per Hansa’s temper made him hard of approach; the man seemed driven by a restless energy, an indomitable will that knew but one course—to break as much new land as possible each day.... “Do you intend to break the whole quarter-section this fall?” Hans Olsa asked him more than once. He had broken a large part of it already; a new piece was added every day; but still he found no rest, nor would the joyous peace of the early summer return to him.... His face now always wore that forbidding, menacing look, which often would flare up into a flame, and his voice would suddenly be hard as flint.

Before his thoughts stood ever the same problem: How would it turn out when the trolls came? Would he be able to hack off their heads and wrest the kingdom from their power?... It might happen that he would be going about with some object in his hand, and would suddenly grip it hard; all his strength would be needed to wield the enchanted sword.... For these would be archtrolls, no less. Here they had come and, disregarding all law and justice, had taken land in an unlawful manner.

There was another chain of thought which frequently led him on: Perhaps these men would never come back? They might just have happened along here the previous fall, before Tönseten arrived; have taken a liking to the place, and put down their stakes; and then have failed to go to the land office until after Tönseten’s visit there, at which time they would have found their claims taken up and recorded by another; or still more likely, for some reason or other they had never gone to the land office at all, but had allowed their claims to go by default.... That might have happened.

... But no, the explanation didn’t sound reasonable; those stakes hadn’t stood in the ground all winter—they didn’t look that way.... By God! the trolls had arrived after Tönseten’s sod house had been built; they had “beheld the land, and seen that it was good”!... So, there was nothing to do but wait for them to come back.... Not by a breath or a syllable did Per Hansa betray the secret of what he had done. At one time he had strongly considered telling Hans Olsa, but had finally given up the idea; better to keep him out of this for the time being!... In all this trouble, it never once occurred to him that had there been a prior claim on these quarters, Tönseten and Hans Olsa couldn’t have filed on them, and that the act of putting down claim stakes made no difference at all.

Beret’s thoughts continued to spin; the web had grown so dreadful to look at that she longed to cast it aside, but lacked the power.... He has done it, he has done it!—the thoughts spun on.... Here we are sitting on another man’s land, and Per Hansa intends to stay!... He has destroyed another man’s landmarks.... Oh, my God!...

In a certain sense, however, his guilt began to appear less fatal in her eyes as she continued to look at it; surely there was enough land out here for everyone; whether they got this quarter or another made no difference. She could not understand why one should make a fuss over a thing like that.... But the dishonourableness of the act made her shrink back in disgust.... And now a new terror—the terror of consequences! Per Hansa, poor fellow, could not even speak the language. How would he ever defend himself, when the case came up?... The stories that she had heard, both in Norway and east in Fillmore, of how people in this wild country would ruthlessly take the matters of law and justice into their own hands, also crept into the web of her thoughts. Here he was, unable to give a satisfactory explanation, guilty before the law of one of the blackest crimes that it was possible for man to commit.... He was so hasty and quick-tempered, too, whenever things went wrong; and now he was in a mood which made people afraid to approach him....

... Beret would look at her web until her whole body trembled and she had to reach out and grasp something to steady herself.

VI

Beret had now formed the habit of constantly watching the prairie; out in the open, she would fix her eyes on one point of the sky line—and then, before she knew it, her gaze would have swung around the whole compass; but it was ever, ever the same.... Life it held not; a magic ring lay on the horizon, extending upward into the sky; within this circle no living form could enter; it was like the chain inclosing the king’s garden, that prevented it from bearing fruit.... How could human beings continue to live here while that magic ring encompassed them? And those who were strong enough to break through were only being enticed still farther to their destruction!...

They had been here four months now; to her it seemed like so many generations; in all this time they had seen no strangers except the Indians—nor would they be likely to see any others.... Almost imperceptibly, her terror because of the stakes which her husband had burned had faded away and disappeared.... They had probably belonged to the Indians, so it did not matter; he had become fast friends with them....

People had never dwelt here, people would never come; never could they find home in this vast, wind-swept void.... Yes, they were the only ones who had been bewitched into straying out here!... Thus it was with the erring sons of men; they were lost before they knew it; they went astray without being aware; only others could see them as they were. Some were saved, and returned from their wanderings, changed into different people; others never came back.... God pity them: others never came back!...

At these times, a hopeless depression would take hold of her; she would look around at the circle of the sky line; although it lay so far distant, it seemed threatening to draw in and choke her....

... So she grew more taciturn, given to brooding thoughts.

But then the unthinkable took place: some one from outside broke through the magic circle....

It happened one evening. Ole had ridden the pony west to the swamps; on the way home he noticed a large white speck moving along through the haze on the eastern horizon. It did not seem so very far away; as he watched it came creeping closer; the boy was so startled that he could hear the beating of his own heart; he had to investigate this thing. The pony was fleet-footed; he had plenty of time to make a turn to the eastward; he rode directly toward the speck. When he had satisfied himself that west-movers were coming—the wagons indicated that—he turned toward home and urged the pony till his body lay flat to the ground. On the way in he stopped at Tönseten’s with the news, then at Hans Olsa’s; hastening on to his own house, he shouted loudly for them to come out and look ... come out in a hurry!

... What a strange feeling it gave them!... Two horses in front of a wagon; the wagon covered, just like their own!... And like their own, it came slowly creeping out of the eastern haze; like them, these folks were steering for Sunset Land.... Alas! thought Beret, some one else has been led astray!

The wagon held on toward Tönseten’s; it reached his place and halted. The incident was so unusual and startling that all in the little settlement forgot their good manners and rushed pell-mell over to Tönseten’s. Even Beret could not keep away; she put on a clean apron, took And-Ongen by the hand, and joined the others.... The whole colony, young and old, were gathered there when she arrived—everyone except Per Hansa.... He came up silently at last, carrying a heavy stick.

The company consisted of four men; they were from Iowa.... No, they didn’t intend to stop here; they were bound for a place about seventy miles to the southwest; the land was nearly all taken up around here, they had been told.... Tönseten and the Solum boys were conversing with them in English; Hans Olsa, together with the women and children, stood respectfully listening; as for Per Hansa, he was all eyes and ears, scrutinizing the four visitors from head to foot, trying to make out what they were saying.... His grip on the stick relaxed; hadn’t he understood that they were going seventy miles farther?...

At last he grew impatient, because he was unable to follow the conversation as well as he wished; he grasped Tönseten by the arm and pinched it so hard that he turned around angrily; but the next second he was talking again.

“What sort of people are they?”

“Germans.... Don’t bother me now!”

“You must tell them not to stop.... We want only Norwegians here, you know!”

But Tönseten had no time now to waste words on Per Hansa; that could be attended to in due season; he was deep in a long discussion with the strangers, all about the prospects for the future out here.

These four unexpected evening arrivals stayed with them overnight, and went on their way the next morning; the Spring Creek settlers had never seen them before; they would perhaps never see them again; but they all felt that this was the greatest event which had yet happened in the settlement.... Seventy miles farther into the evening glow these fellows were going—seventy long miles! Then this place would no longer be life’s last outpost!... Folks were coming, were passing on ... folks who intended to build homes!...

... A living bulwark was springing up between them and the endless desolation!...

Before the Germans left in the morning they came to examine Per Hansa’s house; Tönseten had told them of one of his neighbours who had built a dwelling and stable under one roof; they thought it would be well worth the trouble to go and look at a structure of that kind; they themselves were just beginning, and needed ideas. While they were there Per Hansa got a chance to sell them some potatoes and vegetables, to the amount of two dollars and seventy-five cents; this was the first produce to be sold out of the settlement on Spring Creek.... Tönseten didn’t take it kindly at all; he could have done as much himself; but who would ever have thought of such a thing?... He certainly watches his chances, that fellow Per Hansa!

The strangers finally managed to make a start late that forenoon; the Spring Creek folks stood watching the wagon as it grew smaller and smaller, until it was only a dot on the horizon, receding farther and farther under the brow of the heavens; at last it disappeared—but whether into the earth or into the sky, no one could tell....

This visit affected each one differently, according to his own traits and peculiarities; but with all it was a new incentive to let their eyes scan the prairie. They had always done this, of course; but more often it had been with the object of straightening their tired backs for a moment, than to seek for actual traces of wandering fellow beings.... The visit had encouraged them all, but Tönseten and his wife were especially firm and optimistic in their faith; from now on Syvert always spoke of the future with fervent conviction, and Kjersti went about listening to him in a glow of silent but none the less ardent devotion. The Solum boys also had little doubt of the omen—this wagon was only the forerunner of more to come! The next in order of enthusiasm was Sörine, to whom faith imparted a glad calmness. Hans Olsa let every day be sufficient unto itself, enjoyed the confident spirits of the others, and set himself every day to accomplish something needful; he was not a fast worker, but got things done with a peculiar sureness of purpose and steadiness of gait; it did not seem of great importance to him how many new people came; the important thing was how they got along—the folks who were here already.

Per Hansa was even louder in his optimism than Tönseten. Now there were settlers to both the east and the southwest of them; far away to the northeast, too, folks were known to have taken up land; the time wasn’t far distant when they would have near neighbours all around. There were moments, even, when he felt confident that he would live to see the day when most of the land of the prairie would be taken up; in such moods, there was something fascinating about him; bright emanations of creative force seemed to issue out of his square, stocky figure; his whole form became beautiful, the lines of his face soft and delicate; whenever he spoke a tone of deep joy rang in his words.... But these moods did not last; when there came a pause in the fairy tale, Per Hansa fell silent about the future, worked, intensely and grew cross and irritable; at such times he was a hard man to deal with.

To Beret the visit had seemed nothing but a brief interruption to the endless solitude. The facts were unchangeable—it was useless to juggle with them, or delude oneself; nothing but an eternal, unbroken wilderness encompassed them round about, extending boundlessly in every direction; that these vast plains, so like infinity, should ever be peopled and settled, would be a greater miracle than for dead men to rise up and walk!...

It happened about a week later, that another caravan came creeping slowly out of the evening. This was a great procession—six teams of horses, with the same number of wagons.... Darkness was already falling when they were sighted. Per Hansa’s boys wanted to start out at once, and were quarrelling over who should ride to meet the strangers; but the father suddenly came and told them both to stay at home; he spoke in such a determined voice that they understood it would be useless to mention the matter again.... They shouldn’t be running out to meet every stranger, he went on, as though they had never seen people before! Time enough to speak with these newcomers to-morrow. He was going over now to find out if they needed any potatoes.... He suited the action to the word.

At Hans Olsa’s house the caravan had not yet been sighted; Per Hansa saw a light in the window as he passed. Tönseten was standing outside when he arrived there; the caravan lay some distance off to the southward, steering too far west to fetch the settlement.

“You’re going to have visitors,” Per Hansa greeted his neighbour.

“It looks that way!” chuckled Tönseten.... “Though I’m afraid they’re heading a little too far west.”

They stood gazing at the train of wagons, now less than a hundred yards away; through the dusk they could just make out the forms of the men driving. Kjersti stood behind them in the door, laughing to herself and wondering how she could put them all up for the night.... Oh, well, if it couldn’t be arranged here, Per Hansa would have to take some of them home to his place.

... “I wonder what kind of people they are?” Tönseten mused.... “Are they going to pass right by an open door?”

“That’s just what they’re doing!” said Per Hansa, curtly, fearing that now the trolls were upon them.

“But surely they can see us?”

“They ought to, if they have eyes!”

The caravan had now drawn abreast of them to the southwest; it was so near that they could hear the panting of the horses; then the foremost wagon swung off a trifle and took a more westerly course; they evidently had no intention of camping here for the night.

“You’d better go over and talk to them, Syvert,” said Kjersti.... “We’ll make room for them somehow.”

Tönseten gazed at them open-mouthed; tears of disappointment stood in his eyes.... “That’s a fine way to act!” he spluttered.... “Hadn’t we better go over and invite them?”

Per Hansa’s eyes flashed daggers; his face lighted up with irresistible forcefulness.... “We won’t bother about that just yet.... They might be high-toned, you know—heading for Hans Olsa’s place, or mine!”

The train moved slowly on toward the northwest, until it was on the line between Hans Olsa’s and Tönseten’s; there the wagons stopped and the horses were unhitched; the newcomers had evidently decided to pitch their camp for the night.

... “It’s the strangest thing I ever saw!” said Tönseten, as if speaking to himself. “Can you imagine anyone coming into a neighbourhood where the houses are standing around as thick as fleas on a dog’s back, and not even wanting to talk to the folks who live in ’em?... I call it a damned outrage! What’s the matter—are they afraid of us?”

“It doesn’t seem as if they can really be civilized people!” put in Kjersti.

“Most likely they’ve got some nice-looking girls aboard, and are afraid the place is full of knock-about single men!” Per Hansa explained, calmly.

The three puzzled folks stood there watching and wondering; through the deepening dusk they couldn’t make out clearly what the strangers were doing.... Apparently they were building a fire down on the slope; a glare of flames intermittently rose and spread, waned and reappeared; it seemed to flit back and forth on the ground.

“Do you know what, Syvert?” Per Hansa suggested, mischievously.... “Since those fellows won’t come and talk to us, we’d better take a trip over and visit them. We might even talk them into buying some potatoes—eh? We must watch our chances, you know.” ... He was anxious to get a look at them.

Tönseten could see no particular objection, especially since Per Hansa had an errand with them; but it did seem rather humiliating to go and shake hands with folks who had refused to say “hullo” to them.... But after a moment they started on their way.

They had walked only a few steps, however, when he drew up with a jerk. “Let’s go over to Hans Olsa’s and take him along; he’d like to shake hands with them too, you know.”

—Not at all—certainly not!—was Per Hansa’s decisive reply. Hans Olsa knew no more English than he did; and it was devilish awkward to stand around and stare strangers in the face, without knowing a word they said; he himself would never have thought of going if it hadn’t been that they ought to make use of the opportunity to sell some potatoes!...

They went on a few steps farther, and then Tönseten stopped again; his courage was dripping away.... Suppose they were Scandinavians?

—What nonsense!... Per Hansa kept right on walking. Neither Swedes nor Danes behaved in that boorish fashion; anyway, they probably had all gone to bed at Hans Olsa’s; they always turned in early there.

The fire burned lustily over on the prairie; four women went to and fro placing dishes of food on a big green cloth spread on the ground; some of the men had already gathered around it; others were occupied with the wagons.... As they drew near, Per Hansa counted ten men in all; he scrutinized their faces closely, one by one; but he found none that he liked.... Tönseten went briskly up to the fire and greeted those who were sitting around; Per Hansa did likewise. The strangers plainly sneered at their greeting; they said something among themselves which Per Hansa did not understand....

—Where did these men come from? Tönseten asked, boldly.

—From down in Iowa.

—Were they going far west?

—No!

This much Per Hansa was able to follow; but here he began to lose the meaning; the men spoke English too fast, and Tönseten wasn’t much better; not that it made any difference, however; Per Hansa knew all that he needed to know.... They had come at last!... Of the conversation that followed he only understood that it was about land and that the men were making sport with Tönseten, who had grown angry and now spoke still faster.... It was unbelievable how fast Syvert could rattle off the English!... The strangers’ mockery was getting rather ugly now; he could tell it by the sound of their laughter.... Damn it all, to think that he couldn’t talk to them!

“Huh!” exclaimed Tönseten, turning suddenly to his neighbour ... “Can you imagine what they are saying?... They ... they insist that both my quarter and Hans Olsa’s belong to them!”

“You don’t say!... What about mine?”

But Tönseten paid no further attention to him; he was off again in his squabble with the Irishmen, and growing more and more excited with every word.... It struck Per Hansa that if Syvert didn’t stop a moment to catch his breath, he was either going to explode, or else he would burst into tears; he grasped his arm firmly.

“What do they say, Syvert?”

“They say they’ve taken up all the land between the creek and the swamps over to the westward, a strip two quarter-sections wide.... And they talk rougher and wilder than anything I ever heard; they’re threatening murder, and fire, and state’s prison!”

“Do they say when they were here?”

“Last summer, and late in the fall, and early this spring, too!”

“What cultivation have they done to meet the law?” ... Per Hansa spoke calmly and thoughtfully.

“They claim that they’ve been granted exemption from the government because they were soldiers in the Civil War!... Isn’t that the devil’s own luck?”

“Ask to see their papers.”

“They say they’ve got the papers. They’ll produce them in the morning, all right!”

“Then we might as well go home and get to bed!” said Per Hansa, calmly.... “But be sure to ask whether they need any potatoes!” he added with a flash of roguishness.

But Tönseten had not heard; he was once more absorbed in wrangling. The men about the fire had now all risen; those who were working at the wagons had joined them; a close circle had formed around the pair. Per Hansa watched in silence, his pipe hanging unlighted from one corner of his mouth; when his eyes caught those of one of the strangers he held on some time before letting go.

“Well,” he put in, dryly, as Tönseten stopped to catch his breath, “don’t they want to buy any potatoes?” ...

“Potatoes!” cried Tönseten.... “You ought to hear how savagely they talk! They say they don’t need to show any papers to thieves and claim jumpers like us!”

“All right.... Have they got their stakes down here, too?”

“On both quarters, they say!” ...

Per Hansa saw that if Tönseten kept on much longer, he would go to pieces entirely; that would be rather embarrassing for both of them.

“Come on, Syvert, let’s go home to bed.... It looks as though we couldn’t make a deal in potatoes, anyway!”

At that he calmly began to elbow his way out of the circle; Tönseten saw him going, grew alarmed, and hurried after. Some one of the Irish must have tripped him; he stumbled and nearly lost his balance; this made them all laugh—but one man in particular roared with glee; his jeering voice had an offensive, deliberately insulting tone.

... Per Hansa wheeled suddenly and stood glaring at them; Tönseten glanced at him and grew frightened in earnest.

... “Come on!” he cried with chattering teeth, and took to his heels.

... “Hell, Syvert—wait a minute!”

Per Hansa kept searching the crowd until he found the face from which that insolent jeering came; a grim, cold sneer had spread over his own. At last he located the fellow, close at hand; he held his clenched fist under the man’s nose, drew his head well down between his shoulders in order to get more power, and said in a dry, rasping voice, in the broadest Nordland dialect:

“Now, by God! you’d better shut up your mouth or I’ll wipe that grin off your face for you!”

His eyes actually seemed to scorch the man; then he let up, straightened his shoulders, and glanced around at the crowd.

... Apparently no one was anxious to have anything to do with him; the jeering laughter died away. Then he let his gaze travel slowly back to the first man; the fellow had sense enough not to laugh any more.... And so, since he couldn’t talk to them, there was nothing left for Per Hansa to do but go away....

Off in the dark he could hear a faint calling; by the sound of Tönseten’s voice he was not far from tears now.

“I’ll take all our papers along to-morrow and show them—they’ll see what’s what!” he blubbered, as Per Hansa came up.... “You shouldn’t be so hasty! Suppose they had all fallen upon us!... Good heavens!...”

“Well, you can try your papers on them, if you want to.... But let me tell you this, my good Syvert: with these people you can’t use either the ‘Catechism’ or the ‘Epitome’; they don’t live according to the Scriptures!” ...

Tönseten drew a long and heavy sigh.... “My God! what troubles a man may fall into!... It makes me shudder to think how wild they talked!”

When they parted it was agreed that all the menfolk should meet early next morning, to counsel together as to what must be done. Per Hansa was to notify Hans Olsa and the Solum boys, and bring all three over to Tönseten’s.

“Don’t breathe a word to Kjersti about how things are!” Per Hansa warned him.... “If the women ever get hold of this, they’ll die of fright!... We’ll find a way out somehow—I tell you we will!”

VIII

As he walked homeward Per Hansa was a totally different man from the one who had gone over to Tönseten’s a couple of hours before. Then he had carried a heavy burden of worry and care; but now he walked with a lightsome, buoyant step, very well pleased with the turn events had taken. His mood lightened and brightened as he figured things out and added up the total. The problem came out just right.... These fellows were nothing but a pack of scoundrels; the thought was so comforting to him that he felt like thanking the Lord. They had not filed their claims at all; he doubted very much if they were soldiers; if they had had a clear case, they would have produced their papers at once.... Why, one only needed to look at their faces! Next moment he began to whistle, striking up the merry tune of an old polka. It wasn’t so much because they would not be able to chase him away that he was glad; but because now he was once more a guiltless man! He felt so light-hearted and free again that he could have leaped up and soared through the air.... How fine life was, after all! He didn’t know, just at present, exactly how he was to snatch his neighbours out of the grip of the trolls; but matters would straighten themselves out somehow; the magic sword would be there when he needed it!...

When he got home the boys were sitting up in bed, undressed and waiting for him; Beret stood by the stove, roasting a substitute for coffee which she made from potatoes; the room was filled with smoke and the door stood open. She looked at him in the faint glimmer from the lamp; his face bore nothing but signs of good, she saw; then no danger hung over them! Perhaps a few more settlers would arrive as the years passed.... The boys were asking questions both together in a steady stream; now and then she quietly slipped in a question of her own; but the flood of talk from the bed was so torrential that she could scarcely be heard. The father had to go over and give them a box or two on the ears, to quiet them down; but it turned into skylarking instead of chastising, with screams of laughter and a new flood of questions; they had forgotten their anger at not being allowed to go with him!... The wife asked, and the boys asked over and over again: what nationality the newcomers belonged to, how many they were, and whether they were going to settle here; how many horses they had, how many cattle; whether they had any women; what they had brought in their wagons; if they had bargained for many potatoes; and the like. It seemed as if their curiosity could never be satisfied.... But the father was in such a good humour that he had a bantering answer for everything, no matter what silly questions they asked; he entered wholeheartedly into the hilarity of the boys, till he too was talking only nonsense.... These folks were all Irish, he explained; their women were terrible trolls, with noses as long as rake handles.... Settle here? Not they! No, they were going on to the end of the world, and a long way farther. They were much, much uglier than the Indians, and spoke so terribly fast that it sounded like this.... He hardly thought there would be a chance to sell any potatoes; troll women ate the flesh of Christian men, instead of potatoes—didn’t they know that? Just the same, he was going to take a couple of sacks along to-morrow, to see whether he couldn’t tempt them away from their regular fare.... His banter grew so boisterous at last that Beret was half-frightened; but his voice sounded so bright and cheerful, and had such a warm, infectious gladness running through it, that she could not find it in her heart to reprove him. When they went to bed later in the evening he put his arm lovingly around her and fell asleep almost immediately.... She felt sure there could be no danger this time.

But before she was awake, and long before the faintest light of day shone into the room, Per Hansa was up again; he ate some cold porridge left from the night before, put the deed into his pocket, and went over to the Solum boys’ place; there he roused them, and waited till they had eaten a mouthful or two; then all three continued on to Hans Olsa’s.

As they walked along Per Hansa reviewed the situation for them; with the help of their questions, he gradually explained his plan:

“It’s this way, boys: there’s no danger for any of us three; our neighbours are the ones who are in trouble and stand in need of help; but as for that, you realize as well as I do that we wouldn’t have a very pleasant future ahead of us, either, if they were chased away from here.... Now, you’re a pretty good talker, Henry, and had better be spokesman for the rest of us; Tönseten gets excited so easily you know; then you, Sam, must translate for Hans Olsa and me, in order that we may follow what’s going on. Those fellows must be made to show their papers; be sure to look closely at dates and signatures and that sort of thing, to satisfy yourself that they haven’t been tampered with.... After that, we want to know if they have planted stakes here, and where they are! Just tell them straight from the shoulder, in good plain English, that here we are, and here we intend to stay until some one kicks us out.... Put all the guts into it that you can!”

The Solum boys took a sensible view of the whole matter; to Henry it seemed just an amusing interruption to their loneliness; the idea of chasing people away from a place that was nearly destitute of human beings already, seemed comical.... Even Sam was brave to-day; these were white folks, with whom one could talk and reason; that wasn’t so dangerous!...

Per Hansa told them to keep on to Tönseten’s; he and Hans Olsa would come as soon as they could.

IX

Everything about Hans Olsa was of unusual dimensions; his great body made strangers stop and look; it loomed up like a mountain when he rose to his full height; his strength was in proportion to his bulk; things that he took hold of often got crushed in his grip. New ideas found their way behind that big forehead with great difficulty; he had to look at a thought for some time before he could comprehend it; on the other hand, it invariably held true that when an idea had once become well lodged in there, it would remain clear and unchanged forever. His mind worked in the same way as his body; he was slow to grasp, but rarely dropped anything after he had picked it up; on this account he always found it difficult to turn back, once he had chosen his path. Right and wrong were eternal verities with him, which could not be changed and must not be tampered with; right was right, and wrong was wrong; thus it had always been, and thus it must remain as long as the world should stand.

When Per Hansa entered his neighbour’s house that morning, he found himself immediately embarrassed; both husband and wife were up, and he did not care to speak of their predicament while Sörine was listening; the women ought to be kept out of this! Time was pressing, however, and he couldn’t waste it in lengthy explanations; besides, Hans Olsa and his wife had already discovered the camp to the westward and were planning to go over and visit the strangers, with Tönseten as an interpreter.... Per Hansa hardly knew which way to turn; he looked at Sörine’s face, and again, as so often before, was impressed by the goodness and intelligence in it; then he made up his mind and related frankly the whole experience which had befallen him and Tönseten the night before.

... “Now, Sörrina, I know you are a sensible woman and will keep your mouth shut,” he added, quickly, when he was through. “Beret doesn’t know anything about this, neither does Kjersti; there’s no need of alarming folks who are in a bad way already.... Not that we need to worry over this business; I’m sure they’ll take it peaceably when we show them our papers.... Now we must hurry. Get your deed, Hans Olsa!”

But it was a sheer impossibility for Hans Olsa to hurry in a matter of this kind; he had to ask about it over and over again. Facts were facts, which in this case were clear beyond questioning: He himself had gone to the land office in person; Tönseten had put his finger on precisely this quarter-section on the map, and had asked in Hans Olsa’s name if it could be taken up; there had been nothing in the way, not the slightest claim; it was so stated in the document; and he had moved directly on to his land and had done everything that the law prescribed. If anything was wrong, the government would have to clear it up; but how could anything possibly be wrong?...

“Why, certainly,” said Per Hansa, with shrewd common sense.... “The government is all right in its place—no one questions that! But out here this morning, the government is a little too far away ... that’s where the trouble comes in.”

“You don’t mean that they actually intend to kick us out?” demanded Hans Olsa in an astonished voice, unconsciously stretching his huge frame.

“That’s just what they intend to do, as I understand them.... We’ll have to show them where we stand, in black and white!” ... Per Hansa looked at the woman.

“You don’t say, Per Hansa! Are there ... are there many of them?”

“I counted ten men and four women; I believe that’s all there are.” ... The ghost of a smile passed over Per Hansa’s face.

Hans Olsa sat in silence for a while, with the deed folded up in his hand: then he smoothed it out again and looked at it closely. The greater part of it was unintelligible to him, but he understood all the essentials: the date, the description of the land, the signature of the government, and his own. All this was correct in every way; and up to this very minute he had kept his part of the contract to the letter of the law. He handed the paper to Per Hansa, and said in a ponderous voice:

“Do you see anything wrong there?”

Per Hansa was growing impatient; here they sat, wasting precious time; his laugh had a hard, short ring:

“No! It isn’t you who are wrong in this case, you see; it’s those devils who have squatted here on your land!”

“Do they look like peaceable folks?” asked Sörine, calmly.

“One would suppose so ... they have their women along!”

Hans Olsa spoke slowly: “We’d better go over and talk to them.”

“That’s the idea!... Just put the deed in your pocket, and let’s get started!”

X

Tönseten and the Solum boys were waiting impatiently when the others arrived. Later on, Tönseten let it out that he had told his wife the whole story as soon as he had come home the night before; neither of them had slept a wink all night. He was nervous and jumpy this morning, and wanted to start out immediately.

“No, this won’t do,” said Per Hansa, firmly. “We mustn’t go without a plan. How are we going to tackle the business when we get there?”

“We’ve got to drive them away from here!” cried Tönseten, excitedly.

“Fine!... But the question is: How are we going about it?”

“We’ve got to convince them that we are here with the full sanction of law and justice,” said Hans Olsa, solemnly.

“You’re damned right we must!” flashed Per Hansa.... “Have you got your paper, Syvert?”

—No, Tönseten had thought of bringing the deed with him, but he feared it would be too risky.... “They might take it away from me, and then I’d be in a devil of a hole!” Tönseten’s face was so agitated that it was a pity to look at.

But Per Hansa now took charge in a determined manner.... “Go in and get that deed immediately, Syvert, so that we can get going!... Don’t worry—we’ll see to it that no one molests you!”

And so they started. On the way over, Per Hansa explained the tactics they were to follow; Henry Solum and Tönseten should be the spokesmen, Sam the interpreter; Per Hansa took pains to impress upon Sam how important it was that he translate correctly and rapidly, so that he and Hans Olsa could keep abreast of proceedings.... “I think it will be best for you, Henry, to cut loose; then you, Syvert, can put in your oar when you think it’s needed. But don’t say much; and for Heaven’s sake, be careful not to talk too fast; you know how quickly you get short-winded. Remember we have the whole day ahead of us!”

Tönseten was highly displeased with this plan of Per Hansa’s, but he lacked the strength to protest; matters had reached such a bad pass already that they could hardly get worse....

It was plainly evident that the strangers had not overslept themselves that morning; although the hour was still very early—full daylight had barely come—all hands were busily at work when the five settlers reached the camp. Two of the wagons had already been unloaded; a few of the men were beginning to open up the others, while the rest of the crew were putting up a large tent.

Per Hansa and Henry Solum walked ahead; then came Hans Olsa and Sam; Tönseten, who at first had trotted along with the van, had now quietly dropped back to the rear.

“Ah-ha!” observed Per Hansa to his companions. “They’re planning to settle here, it seems!... Now, first you must ask to see their papers; and then the stakes—insist on the stakes! Talk pleasantly to begin with ... but it won’t do any harm to have a little sport with them, you know. If they get ugly, just tease them on awhile.”

Their friendly greetings were returned in a churlish fashion; the strangers didn’t seem anxious for company; each man went about his task without paying the slightest attention to the visitors.

—What were they doing here? Henry demanded.—This quarter had been taken up long ago.

—Indeed? Two of the men stopped their work and entered the conversation.

—Yes, the man who owned the land was standing right there—Henry pointed to Hans Olsa.—That fellow; he had his papers along, too; and now they must show their papers! If the land office had granted the same quarter-section to two different men, a bad mistake had been made, but it could easily be cleared up.

—Well, so they wanted to see the papers—was that the idea? Had they brought their spectacles? A roar of laughter from the others greeted this sally; but the man who had spoken wasn’t exactly laughing—he held his head tilted on one side, his whole face screwed into an ugly leer.... Sam translated as accurately as he could.

—Yes, Henry continued in a firmer and more imperative tone, they had come to see both their papers and their stakes! Furthermore, there was a court in Sioux Falls to settle such matters. They had been living here all summer, breaking and planting, and hadn’t the least thought of moving away.... Per Hansa sensed by the tone of Henry’s voice that he was speaking well.

“That’s right, Henry.... Give ’em hell!”

The man who had spoken with such an evil look a moment before, now threw down his sledge hammer and came up to them.

—All right, boys! Since they wouldn’t take his word for it, he’d soon show them in black and white! The papers had been packed away somewhere and couldn’t be found just now. They would have to wait awhile to look at them; but he would show them the stakes! They’d better come right along with him now; he was in a devil of a hurry; he had both plowing and building to do before the snow flew.

The stranger began to walk rapidly westward; Per Hansa was right at his heels; as they hurried on, he breathed a prayer that the grass might have sprung up freshly where he had done that little piece of work!...

The man seemed very certain about his direction. As they approached Hans Olsa’s southwest corner, he slackened his pace and began pushing the grass aside with his foot; Per Hansa had in the meanwhile discovered with his eyes the exact spot where the stake had stood. He all but laughed aloud; indeed, the rain and the sun of the good Lord had done their work well; not a blade of grass seemed displaced, not a broken stalk could be seen!... Besides, the man was mistaken about the location of the spot; he had gone too far to the north and west before he got down on his knees to scan the ground. He did a thorough job, however; walked a few steps, knelt and examined the ground round about; rose, went forward a little distance, got down on his knees again; but all the while he was moving farther and farther away from the right spot.... Per Hansa could hardly restrain himself; quiet chuckles were beginning to rise in his throat; but he realized the danger in time, and coughed them away.

The man searched and searched, back and forth, around and around; at first he went at it hastily, as if finding the stake were the easiest thing in the world; after a while he looked more slowly and cautiously.... He was swearing like a trooper now; Per Hansa knew enough English to understand most of it; he didn’t wonder that the fellow felt moved to say a little something, under the circumstances....

At last the searcher got up and called loudly to the others.... A man came over from the camp—a small man with reddish hair and a face as freckled as a moor dotted with heather. They began to talk together in low tones, from time to time casting angry glances at Hans Olsa; they searched the whole region again, but found no trace of what they were looking for.

Hans Olsa made strenuous efforts to take in what was happening; his big, rough-hewn face, with the rugged features that ordinarily were the picture of trust and honesty, had become strange to behold. He gazed at these two men, hurrying here and there, trying to prove that he was a scoundrel; he heard what Sam managed to translate of their complimentary remarks about him; and it all seemed to awaken a new and ominous force behind that impassive countenance; his big childlike eyes blazed with astonishment, occasionally emitting sharp flashes; he trembled slightly all over, though he was not aware of it.

Suddenly the two men abandoned the search, exchanged a few heated remarks, turned away, and went back to the camp without saying another word.... The five settlers followed.

“If they have no better luck with the papers,” said Per Hansa, “things don’t look very bright for them!”

When the five reached the camp all ten of the strangers stood in a group, talking angrily together. The women were nowhere in sight; as the Nordlanders came up a burly, red-faced man stepped out from the group, evidently their leader.... “God be with you, Henry.... Stand right up to him and talk him down!” Per Hansa whispered to the Solum boy.... It was clearly evident from the man’s face that a storm was brewing; the fact that the big Irishman carried a sledge hammer in his hand also attracted Per Hansa’s attention.

“Where are the men who claim to have taken up this land?” he snapped at them.

—Right there, those two!—Henry pointed to Tönseten and Hans Olsa.—That one—Tönseten—owned the quarter to the south; this one—Hans Olsa—the one they now stood on.

The Irishman singled out Hans Olsa and looked him up and down.

—What was the matter with that fellow—was he deaf and dumb? He couldn’t seem to get his mouth open! The man fingered his sledge hammer, and glared around at Henry as if he would swallow him up.

—Oh no, Hans Olsa had his faculties, all right! He just couldn’t talk English.

Sam was translating all this as best he could.

—Well, he could tell this dirty son-of-a-——that he was a thief and a blackguard who had destroyed another man’s landmarks!

Sam translated rapidly, trembling with fear.

The Irishman came closer.

—If the whole damned gang of sneaking swine didn’t get off their land right away, he’d give them something to start with!—Perhaps they’d understand that language better!—The man swung his sledge hammer.

“Look out, now!” shouted Per Hansa. “Here the trouble starts!” ...

And so it did, only much faster than he or any of the others had anticipated. When Hans Olsa saw the Irishman loom up before him in that threatening attitude, he stared at him blankly, and stood for a moment as if rooted to the ground. Then, all of a sudden, the upper part of his body seemed to stretch; he stepped aside to evade the onslaught ... his left fist shot out and struck the man below the ear. There was a crashing sound; with a loud groan the man sank in a heap and lay perfectly still.

“Look out there, Henry!” cried Per Hansa.... “See that you get your man, and I’ll get mine!... Wait a minute!”

The crowd had drawn back in front of one of the empty wagons; they stood as if dazed. Hans Olsa stared at them wildly, took a step forward, and stumbled over the heap on the ground. Regaining his balance, he stopped, bent over, and plunged both hands into the inert heap of flesh; the next instant he lifted it high in the air and flung it bodily over the heads of the crowd, where it crashed into the wagon standing behind. The wagon shook violently at the impact.... At the same moment the group scattered and took to their heels southward across the prairie. From one of the wagons, still covered by its canvas, sounded a scream of terror; four women came tumbling out and followed after the men.

Hans Olsa stood motionless, quivering in every muscle; he seemed like a man half stunned.

Per Hansa jumped to his side and slapped him on the shoulder:

“Goodness! Hans Olsa, that was beautiful! I don’t believe there’s another man in the whole country who could do such a thing!... Now I think we can safely go home; those folks aren’t likely to start any more arguments about land!”

Hans Olsa was slowly regaining his natural poise; he stroked his face and sighed deeply, like one recovering from an attack of delirium.

“I’m afraid I handled him pretty roughly; you’d better go and look at him, Per Hansa.”

Per Hansa laughed confidently.... “No, leave him alone; just do as I say, now! We’re going straight home, the whole lot of us.... Later in the day I’ll take a little trip of my own out westward!”

They did as he bade them—though Tönseten could not be found anywhere; he had vanished from the scene long before. In the latter part of the afternoon Per Hansa returned to the camp of the Irish, to find out what they were doing and how they were getting along; he took Store-Hans with him as interpreter.... He found the whole camp moved to one of the two quarter-sections lying west of Tönseten’s and Hans Olsa’s land.

Per Hansa made frequent visits to them during the next few days; before the third day was over, he had sold them more than ten dollars’ worth of potatoes; he felt that he had struck up a profitable business.

---

The Irish finally settled on these two quarters west of them. They returned east to Iowa just before the snow fell in the fall; but early the following spring they came back with a large company, and started their permanent settlement.

XI

On the morning when the men had gone out to parley with the Irish, Kjersti was left all alone in the house. She felt gloomy and depressed; there had been little or no sleep for either of them during the night; Syvert had tossed to and fro in bed, telling and retelling the same unhappy story—of the terrible folks who had come, of what they proposed to do, and of the dreary future that awaited him and Hans Olsa, who would now be forced to start everything anew.... Perhaps they had better just move east again, and be done with it! He had lain twisting and turning as he bemoaned their fate, his mood steadily growing gloomier and gloomier.... This had kept up so long that it had driven her nearly distracted; at last she had grown tired of his everlasting whimpering and had told him so in plain words. As yet, she pointed out, no one in the settlement had lost either life or limb; their papers were all correct, law and justice ruled the land, and five strong men were here on hand to look after things ... four, at any rate! And at the worst, these were white people, thank the Lord!...

All this and more she had said to Syvert; every word of it had been well meant and fully considered. But he had grown angry and had accused her of not having a particle of common sense; then one word had led to another. When the quarrel had finally worn itself out they had found themselves at opposite ends of the earth, though lying side by side in the same bed.

It was lonesome after the men had left that morning; Kjersti kept the coffeepot on the stove, and laid on a couple of fresh sticks of wood; he would be sure to look in for a drop when he came back!... Then she put on Syvert’s old hat and went over to see Beret; she wanted to find out what Per Hansa had told her when he came home the night before.

She got little information or comfort there, however.... First she recounted most of what Tönseten had let out to her—that people had arrived who claimed to own Hans Olsa’s land, as well as his own; that these people wouldn’t listen to reason, so in all probability they would have to seek the aid of the law.... Hadn’t Per Hansa told her what had happened?

The boys were eating their breakfast; Beret sat over by the stove, dressing the child; she made no answer to Kjersti; her face flushed but she did not look up.

Ole, however, laughingly began to repeat some of the crazy stories his father had told them the night before; Store-Hans remembered more of them, and helped his brother out when his memory failed; the boys were still highly excited, and kept on making such a noise and chatter that Kjersti threw up her hands, begging them for the Lord’s sake to be quiet!...

Beret listened in a rigid, frozen silence; she let the boys say anything they wanted to, as if she lacked the strength to make them stop.... One thought seemed to possess her whole being: he had destroyed the stakes on other people’s land—and now he was going to drive them away!... Good God! could this be possible?...

But at last the boys went so far that she had to interfere; they had begun to laugh together in a coarse, bold way, and use evil words.... How truly it is said, she thought, that the seed which is sown in secret bears fruit openly!... With the child in her arms, she got up decisively, crossed the room, and flashed out at the boys; she was very stern now, and scolded them harshly.

All the while Kjersti had been growing more disturbed; she had to find consolation somewhere, and said, as if trying to bolster herself up:

“This can’t be anything to worry about! Why, we have been given this quarter, and were the first to arrive here!”

“What about Per Hansa’s land?” asked Beret.

“It seems they don’t intend to claim that, according to what Syvert says.... I don’t know why!”

“Probably nothing can be done about it,” said Beret, quietly. “There is no telling who may have been wandering around out here before we came.... Many may have been here.”

This aimless talk only irritated Kjersti.

“I should think they would keep all that straightened out—the people whose business it is to look after such things! If Syvert weren’t such a milksop of a man, he would have gone after the sheriff at once.... Folks are put in prison for such deeds in America!”

Beret was silent for a moment; she bent over the child, while a deep flush slowly covered her face; then she said in a low voice:

“The guilty will receive their punishment in the end!” ... As soon as she had spoken, she got up and left the house abruptly; outside, she put down the child, and stood like a stone image looking westward; there she remained standing until Kjersti came out.

“I see them coming now,” she said, as the other appeared. At that, Kjersti had to hurry off home, to get the breakfast for Syvert.

But Tönseten had returned long before the others; he was in bed when she came in; though the fall day was mild, he had covered himself up with the heavy blanket. At first she couldn’t get a word out of him; she thought he must be ill, especially as he refused the coffee which she poured out for him.... They can’t possibly have done him an injury? she thought. She began plying him with questions, and kept on until he finally admitted that they had come to blows out there on the prairie. His words were thickly interspersed with moans and groans; she began to fear in earnest that they had maltreated him; she felt him all over, and demanded to know where he had been hit.

... “Where did they hit me?... Why talk!” He would say no more on the subject. Then he gave a heavy sigh, adding: “It’s terrible!” ...

It was impossible for him to lie there long, however, without seeking an outlet; he had to confide in some one, or he would burst; so he finally told her his version of everything that had taken place that morning. Some of the things he had seen; the rest were phantoms of his own terror; he enlarged on certain points in his narrative very fully—especially the awful language which the Irish had used, and the effective replies which he had made to them. The general impression given by his story was that in all probability he would have brought the Irish around all right, if Per Hansa and Henry Solum hadn’t stirred them up to fight; they had done just exactly the wrong things. And so a big ruffian had rushed forward with a sledge hammer; and Hans Olsa had gone into a mad rage and killed the man! From now on there would be nothing but war and bloodshed; so they might as well pack up and move right away! What a tragedy it was!...

Tönseten stayed safely in bed until late in the afternoon; then Kjersti came and told him that the strangers had gone. He got up immediately to see if it was true.... After that he seemed quite like himself again.

For a long time the Irish were the standing topic of discussion in the little settlement.

But whenever they were mentioned, Beret kept silent; she took no part in the joy and relief of the others, for there were certain circumstances connected with the affair which she couldn’t get out of her mind; the longer she looked at them the uglier they appeared.

... He had destroyed the stakes; and worse than that, he had kept it secret from everyone ... even from her!

... Shame had probably made him do that.... To be sure, she knew now that the stakes had been put down unlawfully. But suppose it had been otherwise—would he have done any different?... Was this the person in whom she had believed no evil could dwell?... Had it always been thus with him?

... Lives might have been lost; that, too, would have been his fault.... Nevertheless, he seemed to feel nothing but joy over the thing that he had done!...

... The explanation was plain; this desolation out here called forth all that was evil in human nature. Land fully as good as theirs extended round about them for thousands of miles; but then these people had come, and had immediately wanted to seize what had already been taken, thinking that it would be an easy matter, since they were the stronger; then her own husband had used deceit and force to drive them away; and now all was well!...

What would become of children who had to grow up in such an atmosphere?... Their own children!... She listened to her boys gloating over the incidents of the recent encounter—and her soul shuddered.

... No, she knew one who could not endure it forever out here!

One afternoon a few days later the Irish came over to Per Hansa’s to buy more potatoes; they stayed for some time and asked for information on various matters; the boys translated the questions to their father as well as they could; Per Hansa thought the Irish were excellent folk!

At both Tönseten’s and Hans Olsa’s they had noticed the strangers come and go; in the evening they all went to Per Hansa’s to learn how the Irish had behaved.

... “Finest people in the world!” Per Hansa assured them, pacing the floor, uplifted by a surge of high spirits that somehow had to find an outlet. No sooner did he sit down than he was up again; his sallies of humour had a dashing quality that made them positively contagious. Tönseten was in a continual gale of hilarity; Kjersti and Sörine, who sat on the big bed with their knitting, had to let their work drop at intervals to laugh at Syvert’s and Per Hansa’s extravagances. Beret had just laid the child in the other bed, and was sitting beside her on the edge; both boys were listening eagerly to the talk of their elders.

That evening Per Hansa told them all about the stakes; of how he had found them, of what he had thought, and of the way he had finally disposed of them. He related the story in a loud voice, with boisterous, care-free zest; he made it sound exactly like a fairy tale.... Many words of praise were bestowed on his wise action; Tönseten was especially effusive—there was a neighbour for you! As for Kjersti, she was moved almost to tears over such a man. What a difference from that spineless jellyfish of a husband of hers!

“I’ll have to admit,” said Hans Olsa, soberly, “that you played a risky game; and it was the hand of the Lord that kept you from telling. For if they had been able to show that their stakes had ever been on my land, we’d probably be building a new house now, somewhere out to the westward. All our work this summer would have been for others.... My thanks to you, Per Hansa!”

As Beret listened to the tale, she had to examine the narrator closely; surely this couldn’t be Per Hansa! She remembered the morning when he had brought the stakes home; how he had chopped them up and put them furtively into the stove; and how his temper had taken hold of him at that time.... This was an entirely different person!

... So it had come to this, that he no longer felt ashamed of his sinful deed ... and that respectable folks sat around, rejoicing with him over it!... She got up quickly, overcome by a sudden feeling of suffocation; involuntarily, with out stopping to think, she said in a level, biting tone:

“Where I come from, it was always considered a shameful sin to destroy another man’s landmarks.... But here, I see, people are proud of such doings!”

Her outburst shocked the others into silence—all but Per Hansa. With a loud laugh he reached out clownishly, trying to catch her in his arms.

“Oh, Beret, come on, now!... Just kick the dog that bites you—that’s always the easiest way out, and the simplest, too!”

“I understand that perfectly well—though it makes poor Christianity.... But you were anything but confident, I noticed, that night when you stood over by the block, chopping up the stakes.” She turned away from him and seemed to speak to them all.... “Remember what the Book says: ‘Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour’s landmarks! And all the people shall say, Amen.’ ... words like these we used to heed.... In my opinion, we’d better take care lest we all turn into beasts and savages out here!” ...

Per Hansa laughed again with unnecessary loudness; but in the midst of the laugh he stopped, a wave of anger suddenly surging over him:

“We need a preacher, I hear.... Well, now we’ve got one!”

To this Beret made no reply; instead, she left the room abruptly. Outside, it was pitch dark; she knew not where to turn nor what she did; then she stumbled over the plow standing in the yard, and sank inertly on the plow beam.... As she sat there the storm within her slowly died away; deep melancholy came instead.... Long after the others had gone she remained in the same position. Per Hansa had not come out to look for her.... When she went in at last he had gone to bed; she could not make out if he was sleeping, but she did not speak to him. The boys also had gone to bed....

During the days that followed, words were few and distant between Per Hansa and his wife.