Giants in the earth

I

IN the beginning of October a memorable event stirred the little Spring Creek settlement. This, the greatest happening of the year, chose an opportune moment for its arrival.

It was shortly after dinner. In the early morning Per Hansa, Hans Olsa, and Henry Solum had gone east to the Sioux River after wood; Tönseten was so sorely troubled by rheumatism that he hadn’t been able to go along; anyway, he had wood enough on hand to last until after Christmas, and hauling would be easier on the snow. He did want some trees for planting; but as it was getting so late in the fall, with little likelihood of their taking root, he had given up the project.

Beret sat by the window at home; she was knitting some sort of a round affair—something so tiny that Store-Hans had asked her whether it was a new thumb for one of dad’s mittens?... His mother had given him a queer smile, and answered, maybe it was....

Beret had grown more sober as the autumn came, more locked up within herself; a heavy heart lay all the time in her bosom, but she tried her best to hide it from her husband.... Her knitting needles worked rapidly, with an involuntary rhythm; but her mind was not on her task; she barely glanced at the knitting as she emptied a needle; her gaze constantly wandered out-of-doors, flitting back and forth over the section of the plain that lay in her view. Her face wore that weary, abandoned expression which had now become habitual to it whenever she was left alone; a sense of such deep melancholy lay upon her, that her whole appearance seemed to reflect a never-ending struggle with unreality.... Round after round was added to the knitting; her gaze continued to wander....

... Without volition, it fastened on an object somewhere out there—and stayed. The knitting sank to her lap; she sat and gazed for a long time, motionless, self-absorbed. Deep compassion was mingled with her melancholy, as in the heart of one who would gladly give up life to save another from destruction.

... There must be many in that caravan!... She leaned forward, trying to count the wagons.... No, she could not make them out; the wagon train had already crossed the sky line and had come some distance toward her, settling into the blue-green stillness that lay over the intervening prairie.

... Some one else has gone astray!... Poor folks—poor folks!

Suddenly a strong impulse took hold of her to do something to save these people; she felt as if she ought to go and tell them to turn back; yes, turn back—turn back—before they had strayed any farther into destruction!...

She laid her knitting on the table, went outside, and stood at the door to look at them more clearly.... Were there five wagons in the caravan?... That meant a good many people.

... “Almighty God!” she sighed, “show mercy now to the children of men! Let not these folks be altogether lost in the trackless wilderness.... For it is only I who have sinned so sorely against Thee!”

Ole had gone to the woods with his father; Store-Hans at that moment came riding up from the creek, where he had been to water the pony; he saw his mother standing outside the door in an attitude of constrained attention, and rode rapidly toward her.

“What do you want, Mother?... What are you looking at?”

His words brought her out of her deep abstraction; she took a few steps forward, then halted again.... What was the use of trying? She couldn’t even speak the language of these people!... A feeling of unfathomable loneliness settled upon her; the cruelty of her fate suddenly took on fanciful proportions.... Here she was, an exile in an unknown desert; even when human beings passed, her own kind, she could not talk with them! How could the Lord have found it in His heart to smite a soul so heavily?... Beret put her hand up under her breast, where her own heart was beating, and pressed convulsively....

“What is it, Mother—what is it?”

“Ride ... ride over to them and see if you can’t do something ... help them out!”

The boy was suddenly all aglow with life; he wheeled the pony around, followed the direction of his mother’s gaze, and immediately discovered the caravan.

“We must tell Syvert at once!” ... Store-Hans turned his head, waiting for his mother’s opinion.

... “Syvert?” ... A shadow spread over her face.... What possible help could Syvert be to these poor people in their grievous need? She sighed in hopeless impotence.... “No, just ride over and ask them if you can do anything.... Tell them your father isn’t at home.”

Store-Hans couldn’t remember when he had ever heard his mother talk so sensibly; he straightened himself in the saddle, sitting like a grown man; then he spoke to the pony, gave it a slap with the flat of his hand, and shouted to his mother: “Now I’m off!... You had better go and tell Syvert!”

But other eyes than hers had wandered across the prairie to the eastern sky line that day. All at once Sam came running to tell the news; he stopped only an instant, then continued on toward Tönseten’s. Beret went into the house, roused And-Ongen, who was asleep on the bed, and took her along to tell Sörine; she, too, would be glad over a bit of news.... On the way over she prayed fervently to the Lord for these people, that they should not be lost in the blue-green endlessness.... She felt secretly glad because her husband was away from home.

Soon they were all gathered in front of Tönseten’s house, gazing with absorbed curiosity at the approaching train; it had drawn so close now that each wagon could be clearly distinguished; Store-Hans was riding abreast of the foremost team.

Tönseten fussed about excitedly, constantly thrusting his hands in and out of the waistband of his trousers; he was here, there, and everywhere, muttering incoherently all the while.... Good Lord! he thought, were these more Irish—as tough a gang as their last visitors? And Hans Olsa far away at the Sioux River!... Here was a fine mess, indeed!

Then Store-Hans came galloping in, and told a story so strange that all were lost in amazement.

“They are Norskies!” he shouted as he pulled up.

“What’s that you say?” exclaimed Tönseten.

“Yes, Norskies, every single one, I tell you! A whole shoal of them—and they are coming right here! They talk Norwegian, too.”

“Are you crazy!” shouted Tönseten.... At once he began to assume a great dignity and authority; he ordered Kjersti indoors to put on the coffeepot, and sent the other women to help her.... “Don’t you hear Hans say that they are Norskies! Decent folks must get a decent reception!”

And now he took Sam with him, and did like the patriarch of old: he went out to meet the strangers, entreating them to enter in under his humble roof.

A great event, indeed! The company consisted of five wagons and the same number of horse teams; they were good horses, too—Tönseten could see that they were in fine condition. There were twenty men in the company, all Sognings and Vossings10—but mostly Sognings; the majority of them were married men; some had large families back east in Minnesota; all were out seeking new homesteads; they intended to go back east in the fall, but would move west permanently as soon as spring came next year. They had passed through Sioux Falls and had been told at the land office of a settlement out here somewhere; so they had thought they’d better look the place over; but they were heading farther southwest, making for the James River or thereabouts.... Still, it was no small joy to these west-movers, to come across a cluster of sod huts inhabited by Norwegians out here on the endless prairie, and to find this hospitable, talkative man who was everywhere bustling about, trying to be of service to them.

They camped in the yard in front of Tönseten’s house. When he discovered how many they were he said no more about coffee; but he brought them potatoes and other vegetables, and generously shared the evening milk with them. He would not hear of their sleeping in the open that night.... Stay outside, he shouted, when they had come to Norwegians who owned a new-built house? That would never, never do!... At turning-in time, he and Kjersti crawled into bed first; then the floor space was packed with as many of the strangers as it would accommodate, the rest seeking shelter in the barn.

Tönseten didn’t get much rest that night; the worst of it was that he couldn’t talk to Kjersti, at a time when he so sorely needed her counsel.... Good God! how could he sleep, with this tremendous responsibility suddenly thrust upon him? A whole settlement of Norwegians snoring right in front of his bed!... Fine people, excellent people, every one! And there would be still more in the company when they moved west next spring.... Hang the luck!—that Per Hansa should be far away on the Sioux River at this important moment!... If he could only persuade them to settle here, the future would be secure for both himself and his neighbours.... Yes, let him bring that about, and things would look so bright that he could turn over in bed and drop asleep every night with a thankful heart!

... He ought to start out right now, and get Per Hansa, who had such a wonderfully persuasive gift of tongue. But he couldn’t discuss it with Kjersti; neither could he see any way to get out of the house; men lay snoring side by side, from the edge of the bed clear over to the door!...

When all the strangers finally left the room in the morning, so that he and Kjersti could get out of bed, Tönseten felt as if he hadn’t slept a wink all night; he realized full well that now he rose to confront his day of days.

He had no time to eat breakfast—he hardly noticed Kjersti when she called him; already he was deep in conversation with the west-movers, telling them all about the land around Spring Creek.... Surely they wouldn’t leave without first looking at it?... What?... No, that would be a great mistake, he’d better go along with them and show them around; he was just the man for the job, he dared say, for here he was thoroughly at home. Hadn’t he been the original discoverer of the place, the first to select it, and the first to build here and move in? He ought to have known what he was about when he chose this particular spot—he who had been to Fox River, had visited Muskego and Koshkonong, had travelled all over Minnesota, and even through large parts of the Dakota Territory!11 ... Tönseten gave them a full account of his expedition last fall to the western region where they were bound; the land around Vermilion was quite familiar to him; Yankton he had seen with his own eyes. At this point he spun into the narrative a little yarn which he had fabricated last night in bed; it wasn’t exactly gospel truth, but—well, it might have happened! It was all about a man whom he had met in Yankton, an impoverished Scotchman, who had tried homesteading for two whole years up in the James River country; but the Indians and the fleas had been so annoying that they had finally driven him out of the place; his wife had died, and his cow had been stolen by the Indians!... Tönseten related the incident with a great show of sympathy.

The Sognings and Vossings were an inquiring people; they had many questions to ask; of course they would consider the Spring Creek locality before leaving it—that was their business on this trip.

Immediately after breakfast they started out to survey the place. Sam Solum went with them, talking and explaining volubly; Store-Hans also tagged along, and with him was Sofie; but by noontime she was so tired from scurrying around with Store-Hans, looking for badger holes, and still more from listening to the ceaseless talk of Tönseten, that she could endure it no longer and ran home. After she left Store-Hans joined the rest of the group; now and then he would put in a word that sounded grown-up when he thought the occasion called for it.

The prospective settlers kept asking and looking, and were still undecided about the matter; they liked the place, and yet they didn’t; the land seemed good; it lay nicely enough, and was easily tillable; but how bare and endless the scene was for the eye to rest upon!... Nothing but naked sky line all the way around!... It must be a desolate place in winter, without even a bramble bush for shelter.... And what were people to use for fuel? What for building material? Surely they couldn’t live in sod huts all their lives!... These were a few of the objections; and many more were added as the survey went on.

Tönseten fully realized what was at stake; he trembled with excitement; that day he argued and chattered until the small of his back ached and he had to sit down in sheer exhaustion.... But they were not able to advance a single objection that he couldn’t meet and do away with.

... “Wood for fuel and shelter?” ... His voice lowered with fervent zeal; his hands fought the air.... Wood? Man alive, this was exactly one of their most valuable assets! Here folks could have just as much woodland as they wanted—no more, and no less! One of his neighbours had planted half an acre of trees this summer, and had now gone for more seedlings; he would probably bring enough to plant another half acre when he returned—more than he and his descendants could ever use.... “I’ll just tell you, fellows, if it’s only wood, you can go east to the Sioux River as soon as you’ve unloaded your wagons, and get enough trees planted this very fall to last you for a thousand generations! I’ll go along and help you, and it won’t cost you a cent!... You see, folks, it’s really a matter to be thankful for, that there aren’t any woods already standing here; in these few months since we arrived, we’ve broken more land than one could break in ten years in a cutover country; in two years I’ll have my whole quarter-section under the plow!... For Heaven’s sake, fellows, don’t talk to me about wood!”

In this fashion Tönseten talked against time; he pictured the future to them with a fervour that was prophetic; his reddish beard glowed as if with a living fire; his eyes beamed; his voice shook with emotion; his body trembled; his arms made magnificent sweeping gestures in the air.... He told about the schools which they would found, and the church which they would build together; about the thriving town which would spring up on the spot where they stood, and the railroads that would crisscross the prairie in every direction; for the railroad had already reached Worthington—soon it would be at Sioux Falls! Then they would have only a twenty-five-mile journey to town—did they realize that? Only twen-ty-five mi-les!... Tönseten chopped the words up into syllables, and showed them each piece.... And just look at Sioux Falls! Why, only a year ago he had been obliged to go all the way down to Vermilion—not a sign of a land office in Sioux Falls at that time! But you could just bet that the government knew what it was about in coming so far north—just wait and see!... Tönseten apparently had the future all charted and laid out in detail before him; he never stumbled, never made a mistake; the man burned with an unquenchable fire.

... If they would settle here now, more would be sure to follow next spring; then they would all be Norskies here—a settlement made to order for all of them!... But suppose they went to a place where no one had come yet? Couldn’t they understand that all of Dakota Territory would never be peopled? Why, there weren’t enough folks in the whole world for that, and never would be, either!... Or if they should be so unfortunate as to choose a location where no one followed after?... What then?...

The strangers listened seriously to him; they were forced to admit that there was a good deal of common sense in what he said.

The party did not get back to camp until late in the afternoon. Then they cooked a substantial meal from the potatoes which Tönseten had given them; after that they held council; the majority were for settling down right here.

When Tönseten heard the decision, he gave an excited laugh; he ran hurriedly into the house and told Kjersti, who wept over the news; the next instant he had bounced out again. He felt now that Destiny had used him as her tool. He had only reached out his hand, and, lo! he had brought in twenty neighbours with a single stroke—Norwegians, every last mother’s son of them!... This good fortune seemed so overwhelming, it had befallen him so suddenly, that he wasn’t willing to trust it too far.... When the strangers hitched up their horses and crossed the creek—they had decided to settle on the east side, with a chance to expand southward—he felt obliged to go along with them; but after night had fallen and they had pitched their tents, and he was forced to leave them—then he was full of alarms.

... Many things might happen during the night!

III

They would soon have to make another trip to town. Beret looked forward to it with dread; it meant that Per Hansa would be gone for a whole week’s time. The evenings were long and the nights hung heavy over the hut; she had to struggle with so many fearful fancies—fancies that multiplied as time went on; though she felt unable to speak to him about it—though he would be unable to help her if she did—yet it was a great relief to have him near, for then it seemed as if the horror dared not touch her. She dreaded each occasion which took him away from home, even if it was only for half a day’s work with one of the neighbours.... And now he would be gone for a whole week’s time!

... She realized, too, that they would have to have provisions for the winter; the children were sadly in need of clothes, and Per Hansa himself needed many things. But in her condition, these material affairs became more and more unreal to her; it seemed as if she stood apart from them—they did not concern her.... All this she kept to herself, however; ah, what was the use of speaking where no one could hear!... She helped him get ready for the journey as if nothing were wrong; whenever he begged to know what he could buy for her and for the house, she would stop to ponder the question with a distant look in her eyes, as if trying to think of many things which she couldn’t for the moment remember. At that he would joke her, saying she mustn’t be backward about it, for now they had plenty of money; what was she standing there thinking of?... To this question he either would receive no answer at all, or else he would hear her repeat what she had just been saying; or perhaps she would make some absent-minded, irrelevant remark, as if she had not heard him.... At such times Per Hansa would look at his wife and sigh; then he would take hold of her and swing her around, trying to cheer her....

But beyond that he was too busy to pay much attention to her. On this trip to town he was going himself; Tönseten had offered to lend him his horses and wagon, and had promised to stay home and look after things. The Sognings and Vossings were still here; they needed advice and help in so many ways; and he, Tönseten, was just the man for that; he held himself like a father to them—yes, like Providence itself!... Per Hansa had a lot of plans to make before starting out; he wasn’t so short of money now; the Irish were fond of potatoes and had been good customers; as for the Sognings, they seemed even fonder of potatoes than the Irish; he had managed to sell them more than ten dollars’ worth; however it had happened, his cash supply was a good deal larger to-day than when he had first arrived in the early summer.

On the other hand, there was no end to all the things he needed; he had jotted down a long list of articles that simply had to be bought, and a still longer list that he ought to get if the money only held out.

When the mother wasn’t listening he talked earnestly to the boys of how they must look after the place during his absence. Ole, who was the bigger, would have to assume responsibility for everything out-of-doors; Injun, and Rosie, and the two oxen must be well taken care of; and then the wood—he must promise to chop up stacks of wood!... Store-Hans should serve as handy man to mother indoors; that was no easy job, even for a clever fellow like him—he understood that, of course?... The boys were far from enthusiastic over this arrangement; Ole had been hoping that his father would let him go along this time; he had taken pains to make himself useful on every occasion, ever since the trip had first been mentioned. Store-Hans, for his part, had harboured a secret hope that his father would bear in mind how exceedingly practical it was to have him along—he was so quick and handy about everything; he, too, had watched for every opportunity to please his father; he and his brother had often fought for the chance to run an errand. The disappointment hit Store-Hans the harder; here he would have to go pottering around like a hired girl—just like another woman! He fell to nagging, sulking, and fighting with his brother, all of which did not help in the least.

The father pitied him more than his older brother; he called him into the stable and talked to him long and confidentially, as though he were an old man with a long beard on his chin.... “You see, mother isn’t in such condition that we can both leave her,” he explained in a tone of open comradeship. “So if you go, I’ll have to stay at home!” ...

This was more than Store-Hans could understand; there wasn’t anything the matter with mother, was there? She looked well enough, except for her face; but wasn’t that probably because cold weather was coming on?

... “Oh, she’s healthy enough, Store-Hans—it isn’t that, you know. But”—the father’s voice grew low and queer—“You’d better not tell this to your brother—but there may be another little Store-Hans coming around here, say about Christmas time; and mother will have to bear the brunt of that business!... You understand, now, we mustn’t both leave her.”

My, but this was strange! Deep wonderment rose in the eyes of Store-Hans. How could another come here—another boy?... He didn’t dare to ask; he turned his head away from his father; a glowing blush covered his face.... Now he saw what the dream had meant that he had had the other night; he had seen both Joseph and Benjamin playing just beyond the house; and with them had been a tiny little fellow, who wasn’t mentioned in the Bible story!

... Oh yes ... of course he would take care of mother!

But, here was another thing: couldn’t father get hold of a shotgun when he went to town? The last time Store-Hans had been to the swamps the ducks had been thicker than ever.... And the Irish had settled awfully close to them!

... Well, the father didn’t know; he would see what he could do; he had thought of another way to catch those ducks, but what it was he wouldn’t let out now.

Indeed, Per Hansa’s mind was full of busy thoughts.... In the cellar were many more potatoes than they could consume during the winter or use as seed next spring; and now he was going to town with horses and wagon; it would be strange enough if he couldn’t find people who needed food. Alas! however, it was now already the twelfth of October; some nights it froze—and potatoes were sensitive to cold! But ever since the world was made the people of Nordland had known how to bring potatoes safely all the way up to Lofoten, even in the middle of January.... It could certainly be done again, with a little care!

Per Hansa pondered, looked at the weather, sniffed and tried the air. On the afternoon before their departure he came to a decision: there were more potatoes than they could use; if they froze, they froze. Yes, sir! he would give it a try! And so he went over to Tönseten’s and brought the wagon; he padded it thickly, bottom and sides, with soft hay; then he loaded it with potatoes in bulk. On top of the load he placed two sacks of rutabagas, and one of carrots; finally he picked out some of the nicest melons that were left in the cellar; these he tucked in between the sacks, covering everything with hay, and spreading some old clothes over the load.

Early the next morning they started off; Henry Solum and Hans Olsa went with him.

IV

The wagons drifted slowly through the outspread day, creeping on through indolent, drowsy fall sunshine and blue-green haze, toward a distant sky line from which hung a quivering yellow veil. For all they drove, the sky line came no closer; but when the purple shadows of evening fell, there seemed to be a chance, at least, that they might reach it.

This was a great day for Per Hansa. Now he was travelling the very trail he should have followed on his way out last summer; but in one day’s march he traversed a stretch that then took him four times as long.... All day the landscape was the same, yet its details seemed ever changing and ever new; prairies that extended to the end of the world; prairies that billowed into slopes, rose in low hills, then flattened out again and sank away into an endless plain.

The caravan headed for the sky; it steered straight onward. Now, at last, Per Hansa had time to look about him and rejoice in what he saw.... And all he saw was beautiful. Even the others, who had gone this way before, found many strange new things to look at, the farther they advanced into the bluish-yellow haze.... Here and there a sod hut peeped up from the ground, where last summer there was nothing but gopher hills.

Their goal that first day’s journey was Split Rock Creek, where they intended to camp for the night. They took turns with three teams at hauling Per Hansa’s load, in order to ease up on his horses and so make faster progress; thirty-eight miles they had come that day when they finally reached Split Rock Creek, on the other side of the Sioux River; there they found a ford over the creek, and pitched their camp on the eastern shore.... When they had been crossing the Sioux River earlier in the day—it seemed an almost unbelievably long while ago—they had stopped long enough to catch three big pickerel. Now Per Hansa slung a kettle over the fire and cooked the fresh fish for supper; he buried some potatoes in the ashes next to the kettle. Soon they were all seated on the bank, partaking of a lordly feast for them, even though it was only of fish and potatoes.... The water purled by below, murmuring gently, reminding them of much that was dear and half forgotten.... Conversation flowed freely while they ate, but after they had finished it began to lull away. They laid more wood on the fire and got out their pipes; then they could better hear what the crooning waters told. Deep silence fell.... A big star stood in the western sky, looking into their faces.

When the pipes had been emptied a second time they rose, tended to the horses for the night and crawled under the wagons; there they slept dreamlessly until the day began once more to gild the blue wall of the east. The coffee was boiled; enough cold fish and potatoes were left from supper to make a meal; very soon each one was seated in his wagon again, jogging still farther away from a place they knew ... a place they seemed to remember ... a place far off under the western skies, where a group of sod huts ought to be lying!... Wasn’t there such a place out there somewhere. But it seemed strangely vague and distant now!... Per Hansa braced up in his seat, put his mind intently on Beret and Store-Hans—and then the sod huts stood out more vividly....

... Poor Beret-girl! If only she wouldn’t be too lonesome while he was away!

This day’s journey also turned out to be full of interesting things. As they went along, sod huts stood here and there moping dejectedly, where, according to Hans Olsa and the Solum boy, no house should have been.... Good Heavens! where had they all come from? Settlers must be swarming out of the ground like ants in summertime!... Well, no—not so terribly many; it was only this, that there shouldn’t have been any at all!... Too bad! Why hadn’t these folks crossed a few more sky lines to the westward before they settled down for good!

Late in the forenoon they came upon two sod houses which must have sprung up since they were last here; neither Hans Olsa nor the Solum boy could remember a trace of them. Low and forlorn they lay there on the face of the prairie—only two sod huts, but situated so directly in their course that they couldn’t resist stopping to learn what kind of folks lived here.... Beyond the huts a man and his wife were hard at work, breaking prairie; here, too, the sod must be tough of fibre, for the job didn’t seem to be going very fast. What first arrested the eyes of the travellers was the team that pulled the plow; an ox with shining brass sockets on the ends of his huge horns had been yoked together with a skinny poll-cow. The woman walked alongside the team, driving; the man, whose patriarchal beard swept his chest, steered the plow, pushing from behind with all his might.

These folks were Hallings12; Per Hansa and Hans Olsa were very glad to hear it. A Halling is usually easy of approach; they at once struck up a conversation with these people.... Only another incredible fairy tale! With nothing but this team, the man related, he had brought his family and all his earthly possessions the whole distance from Iowa, a matter of over four-hundred miles—“a long, laborious journey,” as he quaintly expressed it.

—They surely hadn’t made the whole trip with those horses? asked Per Hansa.

—Why, certainly they had!... The Halling laughed.

—How long had it taken?

—Oh, not so very long—seven weeks and two days, to be exact. They hadn’t been able to hurry, because of the cow; she was the one who supplied most of their food, and so they had to be reasonable with her.

“Do tell me!” said Per Hansa, flabbergasted. “You don’t mean to say that she’s milking, that cow of yours?”

“Certainly she’s milking!... That is, when we don’t drive her too hard.”

“By God! that must be a wonderful cow!... But say, now: don’t you need some potatoes with the milk? I’ve got a whole load of ’em here that I’m trying to sell.”

The Halling looked at him, his jaw dropping, and evidently wanted to say something; but no sound came. A force was working there under the long beard which gave his whole face a comical expression; it seemed for a moment as if the man might be chuckling; but when Per Hansa looked at him more closely, he discovered a film of moisture in the man’s blinking eyes.

... “Potatoes, you say?... Well, now!” ...

The man wiped his eyes and regarded Per Hansa dumbly. His wife stood beside him; her face was long and drawn.... Suddenly she wept....

“Have you got any food in the house?” demanded Per Hansa.

“Er—yes ... as long as the cow gives milk!” ... It was the woman who supplied this information.

Then Per Hansa burst out laughing.... “Listen here, woman—you run in after a pail, and we’ll treat you to a decent meal ... since we’re the visitors!”

And this is sure: it didn’t take the woman long to produce the pail! Per Hansa grabbed it from her, filled it with potatoes, and gave her a quick look—then looked again; at that, he poured the potatoes out on the ground, filled the measure once more, and gave her a second pailful.

... “There you are—one for each of you; don’t kill yourselves eating, now!”

The man gazed at Per Hansa, blinked his eyes, coughed emphatically, and said: “So far, so good.... But give me four more pailfuls, and I’ll pay you a whole dollar when I get the money; you’ll probably be passing here again.... If you should happen to die before that time, the potatoes wouldn’t do you any good.”

“No, but I might need the dollar!” laughed Per Hansa. “But never mind—thanks for your offer, just the same!... What do you say to eight pailfuls and two dollars—when you get the money?”

Then the Halling laughed so that his big beard shook.... “Listen here, man; why not sixteen pailfuls and four dollars? You’ll get your money sometime.... To tell the truth, there’s very little to eat in our house.” ...

The woman had already taken one pailful inside; now she was down on her knees, gathering the loose potatoes in her skirt; she worked with feverish haste, using both her hands, and eying Per Hansa askance from time to time.

Per Hansa laughed good-naturedly at the Halling.... “Now I’ll just tell you how we’ll do this: you have enough here for the time being; you can wait till I get back home—and then I’ll bring you a whole load.... You need food, man!... I’ll take the money when I get it.”

So the agreement was made; before they went on, however, Per Hansa gave them one of the left-over fishes, half a pailful of carrots from the sack, and the nicest melon he could find on the load.... “Don’t kill yourselves eating, now!” were his parting words to the Hallings.

... Again he sat on the wagon, creaking along toward a yellowish-blue horizon; he couldn’t remember when life had been so much fun!

V

Around noon of the day after their visit with the Hallings, the three wagons entered Worthington. There was nothing much of an urban air about the place; as yet, the town consisted merely of a couple of dozen houses scattered all about, some just rough shanties, others only sod huts; all bore the earmarks of having been hurriedly constructed, and intended only for temporary shelter. The place had much the appearance of a camp, that to-day would be here, but to-morrow might have moved miles away. However, it contained a couple of stores; and most important item of all—the railroad, the main artery of life in this far region, had made its way thither.

Per Hansa drove from house to house, greeting the people with a cheerful grin and asking in his broadest Nordland dialect if they didn’t want any potatoes; he said nothing of the other wares which he had brought. Luck wasn’t sitting in every doorway waiting for him, however; the peddling proved to be a slow business. Not until he reached a sod hut at the other end of the town did he make a bargain worth mentioning; here he happened on a widow with two half-grown boys; the widow was Danish and ran a small poultry farm.

... Yes, indeed, she needed potatoes, for both herself and the boys, and for the birds as well; she hadn’t any money in the house, but she had the chickens.... Wouldn’t he trade some potatoes for a fowl or two?

—Of course he would! Per Hansa was more than willing; after dickering awhile, he bartered nine pails of potatoes for three young chickens.

—This is a mighty profitable deal!—he thought—The Hallings are good people, but the Danes are even better.... “Listen, Mother, perhaps you’d just as soon take three pailfuls more and give me the fourth hen?” ... The widow agreed to that at once and Per Hansa felt that now he had made a fine bargain indeed.

The widow, too, seemed very well satisfied; they beamed in mutual gratitude, filled with generous thoughts. Their eyes looked into each other’s....

... Per Hansa started to leave. But the widow wouldn’t hear of such a thing; of course he mustn’t leave yet awhile! She had an old rooster cooking on the stove; it had been boiling since early in the forenoon and ought to be tender pretty soon; he must unhitch his horses and tie them to the wagon, and then come inside; where there was enough for three, there would always be something left over for a fourth.... Now he must go and do as she said, and then come right in!... Per Hansa wasn’t refusing!

But when he saw the inside of the hut he grew more enthusiastic over it than he had been over the widow; if her face had been bright and cheerful, the face of the room in which he now found himself was even more attractive; it seemed that he had never seen anything so cozy as this room! It was only a sod hut, smaller than his own, with three tiny chambers; but a homely feeling pervaded every nook and corner of it. But best of all, the walls were not a dirty black like those in his house; they were a dazzling white—a white so pure and gleaming that it caught up and reflected the gold of the sun!... A real fairy house, that’s what it was!

Per Hansa looked and looked—and forgot to sit down.

... “No, never mind the food, Mother,” he said. “I’d rather you would tell me how you’ve gone about it to make things so extra fine in here! Is this paint, I’d like to know?... It must be terribly expensive!” ... His face showed nothing but sheer good nature and open admiration as he stood there looking into her eyes; she gave him a merry laugh, as though she had known him for many a year.

—Oh no, it wasn’t paint at all—far from it! Just ordinary lime and water!

—Lime?... What did they call that in English?... Lime, lime.... He said the word over to himself a number of times.... My, how strange everything was!... How did they mix it? Could it be bought in town? Was it very expensive?

The widow gave him all the desired information while she prepared the meal; she rattled on in a steady stream as she went about her work. He needn’t worry about remembering the name; there was a Norwegian lumberman in town who sold the stuff; perhaps he might be able to barter potatoes for it!... Thus and thus he must mix it.

“You’re crazy, Mother!” interrupted Per Hansa; he stood in the middle of the floor, overcome by a wild impulse to hug the cheery widow.... “Do you actually think he might take potatoes? I’ve got some carrots and melons, too!... I swear. Mother, that if I had met you in time, I would have courted you!”

The man’s happiness was so rollicking and genuine that the widow suddenly burst out laughing.... He might have done a worse thing than that for himself! she answered. No telling how that courting might have turned out!...

But now dinner was ready. In came two little boys, with ruddy, beaming faces, just like their mother’s; it seemed to Per Hansa as if he would never tire of looking at them; then he remembered the melons, and went out for the best one he could find; he brought it in and placed it on the floor.... He sat there eating the rooster with the widow and her boys—and it all seemed exactly like a fairy tale. As clear as daylight, luck was with him now!... Before he took his leave, he gave the boys another melon, and half a pailful of carrots to the mother.

... “It’s a sin to ruin good-hearted people!” he said.

Indeed, luck followed Per Hansa that day. From the widow’s he drove straight to the lumberman’s, and asked if he would barter some building materials for a load of potatoes and other such delicacies; the man came over to look at his load.... Yes, that wasn’t at all impossible. What did he want, and how much of it, for his load?

Per Hansa gave a loud laugh at this question: “I really should have everything you’ve got in the place!... But I’ll be reasonable and take a few sacks of lime and a few pieces of boards. You carry lime, don’t you?”

The dicker finally resulted in Per Hansa’s getting all the lime he needed, more lumber than he expected, and even some nails thrown into the bargain. The boards were planed smooth; Per Hansa handled them as if they had been the fine leaves of some costly book.

... “A dandy boat this is going to make for the little fellow to rock in!... Now he can come along any time!”

... He turned to the lumberman: “Next fall I’ll show up here and buy out your whole shebang; I need all you’ve got, and lots more too, let me tell you!”

After that he had to chat a little while with this man; it seemed so pleasant to meet a Norwegian here; Per Hansa felt as if a part of the town belonged to him. He found so many questions to ask, so many matters that he wanted to be posted on; the lumberman, who wasn’t very busy just then, seemed more than willing to talk and to hear how things were getting on, out to the westward where they lived. Per Hansa sat chatting with him a long time.

In the meanwhile his companions had finished their trading and had eaten their dinner; when he finally drove up to the general store they were loading their wagons with the merchandise they had bought. As soon as this was done all three entered the store again.

The moment he got in there among the many different kinds of merchandise, Per Hansa began to grow uneasy. Pleasant odours from all the wares mingled in the air; a strong scent of whisky permeated the whole place; he went sniffing about and stamping on the floor, moving restlessly from one thing to another.

... “Oh, the devil! If I wasn’t so short of money!... But it won’t do any harm to know where they keep things, when once we get the cash—eh, boys?”

Before he started trading, Per Hansa had to make an agreement about the plow and the rake, which stood on the books against him; the Solum boy acted as interpreter.

—He could pay the whole amount, of course?—the trader asked, as if taking it for granted.

—Is the fellow plumb crazy! Per Hansa shouted.

—Huh! how much could he pay, then?

“Tell him fifteen dollars, Henry—and that’s the last cent, too!”

The trader’s voice grew hard as he asked: Was that all?

—Yes, that was all!—said Per Hansa; a hard note had come into his voice, too.—He hadn’t anything more, unless the fellow wanted to take his hide. But as for that—here he laughed and looked the man in the eye—the hide was so old and wrinkled that it wasn’t good for much.

—We-ell—drawled the merchant—this was pretty poor business; but he would let it pass this time. He’d be ashamed to take such a weather-beaten hide.... Did Per Hansa have anything at home?

—You bet he had!—laughed Per Hansa.—A wife and three youngsters, and one cow!... And something more coming!...

—Huh!—said the other, his face hardening again.—He could keep his wife and youngsters; but the cow he would have to forfeit eventually, if he couldn’t raise other means.... Business was business!

The matter was finally arranged, however, in the way that Per Hansa wanted it; the balance of the amount should stand until next fall, at fifteen per cent interest.

Then Per Hansa started to trade. The first thing he called for was net twine!... The Solum boy and Hans Olsa burst out laughing; was he planning to knit a net out here on the open prairie?... Never mind; he needed twine—twine first and foremost! When he finally had found a kind that he thought might do, he bought several balls; and then he called for rope—he had to have rope for the sheeting—how could he get along without that?... It seemed to his companions that he was wasting good money; it was a long way to the Sioux River and few trips could be made during the year! This they pointed out to him emphatically. But it did not affect him at all.... “Just order that rope for me, Henry!” commanded Per Hansa.

Now the real provisioning, for which he had come all this distance, was ready to begin; he ordered a few trifles, in such a low, bashful voice, that Henry had to ask him a second time before he understood; just some calico of a gaudy pattern, a few bits of ribbon and thread, and some soft, dainty white cotton goods. And, listen here—this was very important—some Hoffman’s drops, and a small bottle of sweet oil!... It was awfully awkward to have to use the Solum boy as interpreter in such matters—he was only a bachelor and had tried so few things in this world! Per Hansa managed to get what he wanted, however.... Next, the real needs of the household had to be met; flour was the most important item, and came first on the list; then cloth, and tobacco, and matches, and kerosene; after that coffee, and molasses, and salt. This item of salt again threw his companions into consternation; Per Hansa ordered such an unreasonable quantity of it, and still he wondered if it wouldn’t be too little!... Lord! there was no limit to all the things Per Hansa thought he must have; but his money soon ran out and that put an end to the trading.

At last they were ready to leave.

“Aren’t we going to have a single drop on this trip?” Hans Olsa mused aloud.

“There you said something!” exclaimed Per Hansa. “That reminds me—I was to get three bottles for Syvert! But not a word about it to Kjersti—bear that in mind when we get home.... He’s going to use it as liniment for his rheumatism, you know!”

The trader treated them all around before he filled the bottles. Henry got two bottles for himself, and one for his brother; Hans Olsa had brought along his Sunday bottle to be filled; as that would hardly be enough he bought a smaller one, which he put in his pocket; Per Hansa got two for himself, and three for Tönseten.... When the trader had filled all their orders he felt that he had had such good business with these fellows that he could well afford to stand another round of treats—they seemed to be such decent folk, too! And before they left they felt obliged to follow the good old custom of sampling one another’s bottles. Good Lord! it wasn’t every day that they came to town.... Hans Olsa was stepping very cautiously when he climbed into his wagon; he planked himself down upon the seat with slow and ponderous movements; but once down, there his big bulk sat secure.

It was late in the afternoon when they finally set out for home. Ninety long miles lay ahead of them, but no one thought of that; they had plenty of food, the vaulted heavens for a roof wherever they chose to camp, and fair weather to send them on....

Per Hansa drove in the van; he was continually clucking to his horses. His eyes were fixed on the western sky, already tinted by the strong glow of evening.... God! how beautiful these prairies were!... Why couldn’t they keep on driving all night long?...

When they at last pitched camp at the end of the day, and Hans Olsa had made the fire and hung the porridge pot over it, Per Hansa sat down by the firelight and began to whittle some shuttles for net knitting; he made two shuttles, and then a reel.

His companions laughed at him and told him he must be crazy; first he had thrown away good money on a lot of twine, and now he was wasting his time over such nonsense!

... “Never mind,” said Per Hansa with his merry laugh. “One only talks according to his sense!” ... He kept on working till he had finished the reel.

VI

The days were long for the boys during their father’s absence. Ole soon tired of standing at the chopping block without the company of his brother; he idled aimlessly about, and made frequent errands into the house to see whether he couldn’t hatch up something to break the monotony. Store-Hans wasn’t much better off; the secret which his father had entrusted to him was certainly interesting; but it wasn’t quite fascinating enough to hold its own with the vision of the ducks out there in the swamps. The father would surely bring something home from town to solve this problem; he and his brother ought to be over west reconnoitering every spare minute of the time. And now the Irish had all gone away, too; their sod huts were standing empty; there would be many curious things to look at and pry into!... Besides, their mother said so little these days; it was no fun to be with her any longer. Often when he spoke to her she was not there; she neither saw nor heard him, said only yes and no, which seemed to come from far away.... Probably she was brooding over the strange thing about to happen, Store-Hans told himself; he often looked wonderingly at her, thinking many thoughts beyond his years.... He remembered his father’s words, and never left her for long, although it was very lonesome for him in the house.

A couple of days after the men’s departure, she sent the boy over to Kjersti to borrow a darning needle; she had hidden her own away so carefully that she could not find it. Such things occurred commonly now; she would put something away, she could not remember where, and would potter around looking for it without really searching; at last, she would forget altogether what she was about, and would sit down with a peculiarly vacant look on her face; at such times she seemed like a stranger.... Ole was sitting in the house that morning, finishing a sling-shot which he had just made.

Suddenly Store-Hans came darting back with the needle; he had run until he was all out of breath. He burst out with the strangest news, of Tönseten’s having killed a big animal; it was awfully big—almost like a bear!... Tönseten said it was a bear, so it must be true! Tönseten and Kjersti were skinning him right now; Kjersti had told him that if he would bring a pail, they could have fresh meat for supper. Both boys immediately began pleading for permission to go and see the animal; their mother scarcely answered; she gave them a pail and asked them not to stay long.

The boys came runing down the hill just as Kjersti was cutting up the carcass; Tönseten was struggling with the hide, trying to stretch it on the barn door; his mouth bristled with nails, his hands were bloody—he was a frightful spectacle!

“What’s that you’ve got?” asked Ole.

“Bear, my boy—bear!” ... Tönseten wagged his head, took the nails out of his mouth, and spat a gob of tobacco juice.

“Bear!” snorted Ole, scornfully.

“That’s no bear!” put in Store-Hans, though less doubtingly.

“By George! boys, to-day he had to bite the dust!” ...

“But there aren’t any bears out here, I tell you!” Ole protested.

“Is that so—huh?... There isn’t an animal living that you can’t find out here!” Tönseten spoke with such certainty that it was difficult for the boys to gainsay him.

“Where did you get him?” Store-Hans asked.

“Out west of the Irish a little way.... There were two of ’em; they had gone into the ground for the winter; this is the young one, you see—the old mammy got away from me!”

“But you didn’t have any gun!” was Ole’s next objection.

“Better than that, my boy!... I went for him with the crowbar!” Tönseten spat fiercely and looked at the boys.... “I smashed in his skull!... With that old bar I’d tackle either a tiger or a rhinoceros!”

“What became of the old she-bear?” Ole asked, falling under the spell of Tönseten’s enthusiasm.

“She went north across the prairie, lickety-split!... Come here, now—take some of these chunks of meat home with you.... This will make delicious stew, let me tell you!”

“Is it fit to eat?” asked Store-Hans, still doubting.

“Fit to eat? No finer meat to be found than bear meat—don’t you know that?”

The boys followed him over to where Kjersti was still cutting up the animal; it must have been a large carcass, for the cut meat made a sizable heap.

“Is it ... is it really bear?” asked Ole, in a more humble tone.

“He’s meaty enough for it!... Here, give me the pail; Beret needs some good, strengthening food.... Maybe you’ll take a little to Sörrina, too; you can stop in with it on the way.... Careful—don’t spill it, now!”

The boys loitered along on the way home; from time to time they had to put down the pail, in order to discuss this extraordinary event.... So there actually were bears slinking about this country!... If bears, there must be lions and tigers and other such wild beasts; this was worth while!... Suppose they were to go home and get Old Maria, hunt up the she-bear herself, and put a big bullet clear through her head? They thrilled with excitement.... “Do you dare to shoot her off?” Store-Hans demanded of his brother; Ole scowled ominously and clenched his fists.... “I!... I’d aim straight for her temple, and she’d drop deader than a herring!” ... “Yes, aim at her temple!” Store-Hans advised, soberly. “And if it’s close range, you must draw the bead very fine!” ... “Fine as a hair!” said Ole, excitedly.

They picked up the pail at last, and finally succeeded in reaching Sörine’s, where there was another long delay; a detailed account had to be given of the marvellous feat which Tönseten had performed.

When they were about to leave Sofie came out and wanted to know if they weren’t frightened; maybe the old mother bear was slinking about the prairie right now, looking for her cub! The boys lingered to talk with her; they drew a glowing picture for the girl of how they were going home this minute to get Old Maria, and then go hunting for the she-bear herself ... just watch them bring home a real roast pretty soon!... But weren’t they scared? she asked.... “Scared?” exclaimed Store-Hans.... “Oh, fiddlesticks!” cried Ole. “Only girls and old women get scared!”

Sofie only laughed; at which they affected a swaggering gruffness and tried to spit like Tönseten—but theirs wouldn’t come brown....

They were gone such a long time that their mother grew anxious; when they came over from Sörine’s at last she stood outside the door watching for them. She had dressed And-Ongen, and was almost on the point of starting out to search; the boys were too preoccupied to notice this; Store-Hans spoke first:

“Just think, there’s a big she-bear over there to the westward!” ...

“We’re going to take the gun and shoot her!” exclaimed Ole, gleefully.

“We’ll aim straight for her temple!” Store-Hans assured his mother.

“Now we’ll have plenty of bear meat!” continued Ole in the next breath, with absolute confidence.

The boys were all raging excitement; their mood frightened Beret still more; she grasped them frantically, one hand on the shoulder of each, and gave them a hard shake.... They were to go inside this very minute, and take their books! They weren’t going out of this house to-day!... “Go in, don’t you hear me!... Go in!” ...

... But this wasn’t fair! Ole began reasoning with his mother; he used strong words, his eyes flaming.... Didn’t she realize that there was a real bear over to the westward—a real full-grown grizzly bear!... Mother ... please ... please!... Dad wasn’t home, but the gun was all loaded and ready; they could easily manage the rest of it! In an hour’s time they would have that bear’s hide! Store-Hans even thought that he could go straight to the lair.... Right through the temple they would put the bullet!... The boys carried on like a raging hurricane.

The mother had to use force to get them indoors.... “Go in, I say, and take your books! Can’t you hear what I’m saying?” ...

This was hard on them; they burst into the house like two mad bull calves; she had to repeat the order several times more before they finally submitted and began to hunt for their books. At last Ole snatched up the “Epitome,” his brother the “Bible History.” They sat down to read by the table in front of the window, in a state of mutinous rebellion.

Trouble soon arose. Each wanted the seat immediately in front of the window, where the most light fell; and neither would give up the position. A terrible battle broke out; Ole was the stronger, but his brother the quicker. On account of his age and size Ole considered himself the legitimate master of the house in the absence of his father, and therefore had the right to do anything; he now burst out with words which he had heard in the mouths of the men when something went wrong with their work. As soon as Store-Hans heard this he too began to use vile language; if Ole dared, he certainly did; he knew those words, and plenty more!... The boys kept up their scrimmage until they almost upset the table; their books suffered bad treatment and lay scattered about on the floor. And-Ongen watched them open-mouthed until she suddenly grew frightened and set up a howl.

Over by the stove the mother was washing the meat, putting it into a kettle which she had placed on the fire.... Although she heard every word, she kept on working in silence; but her face turned ashen grey.

When she had finished the task she went out hurriedly; in a moment she came back with a willow switch in her hand. Going straight over to the table, she began to lay about her with the switch; she seemed beside herself, struck out blindly, hit whatever she happened to aim at, and kept it up without saying a word. The switch whizzed and struck; shrieks of pain arose. The boys at once stopped fighting and gazed horror-stricken at their mother; they could not remember that she had ever laid a hand on them before.... And now there was such a strange, unnatural look in her eyes!...

They flew out on the floor to gather up their books, while the blows continued to rain down upon them; And-Ongen stood in the middle of the floor, screaming with terror....

Not until the mother struck amiss, breaking the switch against the edge of the table, did she stop.... Suddenly she seemed to come to her senses; she left the child screaming in the middle of the floor, went out of the house, and was gone a long time. When she came back, she carried an armful of wood; she went over to the stove and fed the fire; then she picked up And-Ongen, and lay down on the bed with her.... The boys sat quietly at the table reading; neither of them had the courage to look up....

The house seemed strangely still after the passage of the storm. Ole put his fingers into his ears to shut out the terrible silence; his brother began to read aloud. It was bad enough for Ole, but worse for Store-Hans; he now recalled clearly what his father had confided in him; he thought of his own solemn promise; here he had been away from the house nearly the whole day! He felt burning hot all over his body.... He had opened the book where it told about the choosing of the twelve disciples, and now he tried to read; but that wasn’t the stuff for him just now!... He turned the pages forward to the story of Samson, and read it diligently; then to David and Goliath; then to the story about Joseph and his brethren. The last eased his heart somewhat.... Joseph was just the sort of boy that he longed to be!

Ole had felt ashamed at the sight of his mother bringing in the wood, though that was not his task; his brother was to be the hired girl!... Suddenly anger seized him; this time it certainly was the fault of Store-Hans—he should have given him the place!... He dragged himself through the Third Article, which he knew perfectly well already; when the tumult within him had somewhat subsided he sat there thinking of how shamefully Tönseten must have deceived them.... He kill a bear! It was nothing but a measly old badger! And now this nasty stuff was cooking on the stove—they were going to have it for supper! And mother was so angry that one would never dare to explain it to her!... There sat his younger brother, snuffling and reading his brains out; plain to be seen that he would never amount to anything!... Ole closed his book with a bang, got up, and went outdoors to chop more wood; but he did not dare to look at the bed as he passed....

Store-Hans sat over his book until it grew so dark that he could no longer distinguish the letters.... From time to time he looked up; his mother lay on the bed perfectly still; he could not see her face; And-Ongen was fast asleep with her head high on the pillow. The boy rose quietly, looked around—then took an empty pail and went out for water. He left the pailful of water outside the door; then he brought Rosie and Injun and the two oxen into the stable, and tied them up for the night. He spoke loudly and gruffly to the animals; mother should hear that he was tending to business!... When he finally brought in the water his mother was up again; he could see nothing unusual about her.

... No, she hadn’t been crying this time! The thought made Store-Hans so happy that he went straight to his brother, who was toiling over the chopping block as if possessed, and made friends with him again. The boys stayed outside until it was pitch dark; they talked fast and nervously, about a multitude of things; but that which weighed most heavily on their hearts—the way their mother’s face had looked when she whipped them—they could not mention.

Inside the house the lamp had been lit. And-Ongen toddled about the floor, busy over her own little affairs; the boys came in quietly and sat down to their books again; but very little reading was done now.... At last the kettle of meat that had been boiling on the stove was ready; the mother put the food on the table; the boys drew up, Ole somewhat reluctantly.... “You get that troll stuff down!” he whispered to his brother, making a wry face. To this command Store-Hans made no answer; he had stuck his spoon into a crack between the boards of the table; they were large, those cracks—he could see a broad section of floor when he laid his eye down close. The earthen floor had such a rich brown colour in the dim sheen of the lamp; the cracks in the table made stripes across the shadow down there; it looked pretty, too—and just then it had occurred to Store-Hans how nice it would be if they could only have the floor looking like that by daylight.

The mother filled the big bowl from the kettle and put it on the table; she had made a thick stew, with potatoes, carrots, and pieces of the meat; it looked appetizing enough but somehow the boys felt in no hurry to start. The mother came and sat down, bringing And-Ongen with her; the child was so delighted over the holiday fare they had to-night that she hurried to say grace.

She and the mother immediately began to eat; the boys no longer had an excuse to sit watching. Store-Hans dipped up a spoonful of the stew, blew on it, closed his eyes, and gulped it down. Ole did the same, but coughed as if he had swallowed the wrong way; then he leaned under the table and spat it out....

The mother asked quietly how they liked the supper.... At that, Ole could no longer restrain himself; he looked at his mother imploringly, and said in a tear-choked voice as he laid his spoon aside:

“It tastes like dog to me!”

To Store-Hans it seemed a shameful thing for Ole to speak that way of food which their mother had prepared for them; he swallowed spoonful after spoonful, while sweat poured from him.

“I have heard it said many times,” the mother went on, quietly, “that bear meat is all right.... The stew has a tangy taste, I notice, but not so bad that it can’t be eaten.... You’d better leave the meat if you don’t like it.”

“It isn’t bear at all!” Ole blurted out.

“What?” cried the mother in alarm, lowering her spoon.

“It’s only a lousy old badger!... I’ve heard dad say often that they aren’t fit to eat!” ...

“It’s true, every word of it!” cried Store-Hans, suddenly feeling frightened and jamming his spoon farther down into the crack.... “I could tell it by his tail—Syvert had forgotten to cut it off!... Oh, I’m going to be sick—I can feel it coming!”

Beret got up, trembling in every limb; she took the bowl and carried it out into the darkness; a long way from the house she emptied it on the ground; And-Ongen cried and toddled after her.... The boys sat on at the table, glaring reproachfully at each other; in the eyes of both blazed the same accusation:

“A nice mess you’ve made of things! Why didn’t you keep your mouth shut?”

The mother came in again; she set the empty kettle on the stove and scoured it out carefully.... Then she cooked porridge for them, but when it was ready she could eat nothing herself....

... That night she hung still more clothes over the window than she had the evening before. She sat up very late; it seemed as if she was unable to go to bed.

VII

She had been lying awake a long time; sleep would not come. Her thoughts drifted....

... So it had come to this; they were no longer ashamed to eat troll food; they even sent it from house to house, as lordly fare!

All night long as she tossed in bed, bitter revolt raged within her. They should not stay here through the winter!... As soon as Per Hansa came home they must start on the journey back east; he, too, ought to be able to see by this time that they would all become wild beasts if they remained here much longer. Everything human in them would gradually be blotted out.... They saw nothing, learned nothing.... It would be even worse for their children—and what of their children’s children?... Couldn’t he understand that if the Lord God had intended these infinities to be peopled, He would not have left them desolate down through all the ages ... until now, when the end was nearing?...

After a while the bitterness of her revolt began to subside; her thoughts became clear and shrewd, she tried to reason out the best way of getting back to civilization. That night she did not sleep at all.

The next morning she got up earlier than usual, kindled the fire, got the breakfast and waked the children. The food was soon prepared; first she poured some water into the pot, put in a spoonful or two of molasses, and added a few pieces of cinnamon; then she cut into bits the cold porridge from last night, and put them into the big bowl; when the sweetened water was hot she poured it over the porridge.... This was all they had—and no one asked for more.

While she ate she looked repeatedly at the big chest, trying to recall how everything had been packed when they came out last summer. Where did she keep all the things now? She had better get the packing done at once—then that job would be out of the way when he came home....

The greatest difficulty would be to obtain wagons.... Alas! those old wagons! The smaller one he had taken apart and used in making the very table around which they were now seated; as for the larger wagon, she knew only too well that it would never hang together through the long journey back; only the other day she had heard Per Hansa mention that he intended to break it up, and see if he couldn’t make something or other out of it.... Well—how to get the wagons would be his business! They certainly couldn’t perish out here for want of a wagon or two! Was there not One who once upon a time had had mercy on a great city full of wicked people, only because one just human being interceded?

... One just human being.... Alas!... Beret sighed heavily and put her hand up under her breast.

When there was no more porridge left in the bowl she rose, washed the dish, and put it away on the shelf. Ole had nothing to do in the house that morning; he walked toward the door, motioning to his brother to follow; but Store-Hans shook his head. Then Ole went out; the other boy sat there looking at his mother, not knowing what to do, unhappy and heavy-hearted; he felt a sudden impulse to throw himself down on the floor and weep aloud.

The mother was pottering about at some trifles, her thoughts constantly occupied with the idea of returning to civilization. Into her serious, grey-pale face, still soft and beautiful, had crept an expression of firmness and defiance; soon this aspect grew so marked that her face appeared to simulate anger, like that of one playing at being ferocious with a child.

As soon as she had finished her housework she went over to the big chest, opened the lid, sank down on her knees beside it, and began to rearrange the contents. The task was quickly done; then she took the clothes from the last washing, folded them up, and laid them carefully in the chest; there weren’t many clothes left now! He ought to realize that they would soon be naked if they stayed here much longer! And where were they to get money for everything they needed out here?... Beret stood up and looked around the room, trying to decide what to pack first. On the shelf above the window lay an old Bible, a gift to her from her grandfather; it was so old that it was hard to read now, because of the many changes the language had undergone since then; but it was the only one they had. This book had been in her family many generations; her great-grandfather had owned it before her grandfather; from her it should pass on to Store-Hans; thus she had always determined when she thought of the matter. On top of the Bible lay the hymn book, in which she had read a little every Sunday since their arrival here....

She put both books in the chest.

Again Beret rose and glanced around the room. Perhaps she had better take the school books, too; the boys were none too eager to use them; they might as well be excused for the rest of the day; either that day or the next the father would surely come.... She asked Store-Hans to bring the books to her so that she could pack them.

Not until then did the boy fully take in what his mother was doing; it startled him so that for a moment he could not get up.

“Mother, what are you doing?” ...

“We must begin to get ready!” ... She sighed, and pressed her hands tightly under her burden; it was painful to her, stooping over so long at a time.

“Get ready? Are ... are we going away?” ... Store-Hans’s throat contracted; his eyes stared big and terror-stricken at his mother.

“Why, yes, Hansy-boy—we had better be going back where people live before the winter is upon us,” she told him, sadly.

The boy had risen, and new stood at the end of the table; he wanted to go to his mother but fear chained him to the spot; he stared at her with his mouth wide open. At last he got out:

“What will dad say?” ... The words came accusingly but there were tears in them.

She looked at him like one in a dream; again she looked, but could not utter a word.... The sheer impossibility of what she was about to do was written as if in fire on the face and whole body of the boy—as if in rays that struck her, lighted everything up with an awful radiance, and revealed the utter futility of it all.... She turned slowly toward the chest, let down the lid, and sank on it in untold weariness.... Again the child stirred within her, kicking and twisting, so that she had to press her hand hard against it.

... O God!... now he was protesting, too! Was it only by ruthless sacrifice of life that this endless desolation could ever be peopled?

... “Thou canst not be so cruel!” she moaned.... “Demand not this awful sacrifice of a frail human being!” ...

She rose slowly from the chest; as she walked across the floor and opened the door she felt as if she were dragging leaden weights.... Her gaze flitted fearfully toward the sky line—reached it, but dared not travel upward....

Store-Hans remained at the end of the table, staring after her; he wanted to scream, but could not utter a sound. Then he ran to her, put his arms around her, and whispered hoarsely between sobs:

“Mother, are you ... are you ... getting sick now?”

Beret stroked the head that was pressed so hard against her side; it had such a vigorous, healthy warmth; the hair was soft and pleasant to the touch; she had to run her fingers through it repeatedly.... Then she stooped over and put her arm around the boy; his response to her embrace was so violent that it almost choked her ... O God! how sorely she needed some one to be kind to her now!... She was weeping; Store-Hans, too, was struggling with wild, tearing sobs. Little And-Ongen, who could not imagine what the two were doing over there by the door, came toddling to them and gazed up into their faces; then she opened her mouth wide, brought her hand up to it, and shrieked aloud.... At that moment Ole came running down the hill, his feet flying against the sky, and shouted out to them:

“They are coming!... Get the coffee on!”

... Gone was the boy like a gust of wind; he threw himself on the pony and galloped away to meet the returning caravan.

Beret and Store-Hans had both sprung to their feet and stood looking across the prairie.... Yes, there they were, away off to the southeast!... And now Store-Hans, also, forgot himself; he glanced imploringly into his mother’s face, his eyes eagerly questioning:

“Would it be safe to leave you while I run to meet dad?”

She smiled down into the eager face—a benign, spreading smile.

“Don’t worry about me.... Just run along.” ...

VIII

The father sat at the table eating, with And-Ongen on his knee; the boys stood opposite him, listening enthusiastically to the story of his adventures along the way; the mother went to and fro between the stove and the table. There was an enchanting joyousness about Per Hansa to-day which coloured all he said; no matter how much he told, it always sounded as if he were keeping back the best till later on. This had a positively intoxicating effect on the boys; it made them impatient and eager for more, and caused a steady flood of fresh questions.

Even Beret was smiling, though her hand trembled.

At last the boys had to give an account of how they had managed affairs at home. When, after much teasing and banter, Per Hansa had finally heard the whole absurd story—it came little by little, in disjointed outbursts—of Tönseten and the bear, and their ill-starred badger stew of the night before, he laughed until the tears came and he had to stop eating. His mirth was so free and hearty that the boys, too, began to see the real fun of the incident, and joined in boisterously. Beret stood over by the stove, listening to it all; their infectious merriment carried her away, but at the same time she had to wipe her eyes.... She was glad that she had remembered to take out of the chest the things that she had begun to pack awhile before!

“Come here, Store-Hans,” said the father, still laughing. “What’s that across the back of your neck?”

The question caught the boy unawares; he ran over and stood beside his father.

“Why, it’s a big red welt!... Have you been trying to hang yourself, boy?”

Store-Hans turned crimson; he suddenly remembered the fearful blows of last night.

Ole glanced quickly at his mother.... “Oh, pshaw!” he said with a manly air.... “That was only Hans and me fighting!”

“Ah-ha!” exclaimed the father, with another laugh. “So that’s the way you two have been acting while I was away? Mother couldn’t manage you, eh?... Well, now you’ll soon be dancing to a different tune; we’ve got so much work on our hands that there won’t be any peace here day or night.... Thanks for good food, Beret-girl!”

He got up, took the boys with him, and began to carry things in from the wagon. Most of the load they stored away in the house; some extra things, however, had to find a temporary place in the stable.

At length Per Hansa brought in a small armful of bottles and set them on the table.

“Come here, Beret-girl of mine! You have earned a good drink, and a good drink you shall have!” ... He went over to the water pail with the coffee cup from which he had just been drinking, rinsed it out with a little water, and emptied it on the floor; then he poured out a good half cupful of whisky and offered it to her. She put out her hand as if to push him away.... Yes, indeed, she would have to take it, he told her, putting his arm around her waist and lifting the cup to her lips. She took the cup and emptied it in one draught.... “There, that’s a good little wife!... You’re going to have just another little drop!” He went to the table again and poured out a second drink, but not so much this time. “Two legs, and one for each! Just drink it down!... And now you take care of the bottles!”

That was a busy day in the humble dwelling of Per Hansa. First of all, he had promised a load of potatoes to the Hallings, who waited back east somewhere under a bleak sky, without even a potato peeling to put in their pot; he must carry food to them. When Beret heard how poorly things were in that hut—about the woman with the drawn cheeks and the starved look in her eyes—she straightway began to hurry him up; he must go while he had the horses and wagon here. Couldn’t he get started to-day?

“Not so hasty there, my girl, not so hasty!” laughed Per Hansa, his face beaming.... “I’m not going to sleep with any Halling woman to-night—that I can tell you!”

Now he was his old irresistible self again. How strong, how precious to her, he seemed!... She felt a loving impulse to grasp his hair and shake him....

Ole was immediately put to work knitting the net. The father had already knitted four fathoms of it, by the light of the camp fire the night before; he had sat up working over the net long after the others had turned in.... The boys grew wild with enthusiasm at the sight of the net; were they going fishing in the Sioux River? Both of them immediately began begging to be taken along.... “Just keep your fingers moving, Olamand—hurry them up, I tell you!” ... The father made a great mystery of it, and refused to give any further explanation.

As for himself and Store-Hans, they busied themselves over the lime; it was all carried inside and placed in a corner where no moisture could reach it. The preparations for the mixing required a good deal of work; the first thing was to make a wooden box sufficiently tight to hold water. Well, there was plenty of lumber now, at any rate! Per Hansa built the box and carried it down to the creek; there he placed it under water, hoping that it would swell enough to be tight by the time he needed it.

Evening fell all too soon on a wonderfully busy and joyful day. The boys were at last in bed, fast asleep.

But Per Hansa had no time for rest; to-night that net simply had to be finished. He finally made Beret go to bed, but she wasn’t a bit sleepy; she lay there talking to him and filling the shuttles whenever they were empty. He explained fully to her how he intended to use the net; first he would set it in the Sioux River as he passed by there to-morrow; he knew of just the place; he would leave it there until he came back from the Hallings’. Unless the cards were stacked against him he would bring back a nice mess of fish.... That, however, wasn’t his great plan with the net, he told her; but she mustn’t say a word about this to the boys. It was to be a big surprise for them; they were such brave fellows! The fact of the matter was, he planned to catch ducks with that net; that had been the real reason for his buying the twine; there would be other fare than badger stew in this hut, he would just let her know, if the weather only held a few days more!

All at once it occurred to Beret that she had forgotten to cover up the windows to-night; she smiled to herself at the discovery.... What was the need of it, anyway? Cover the windows ... what nonsense!... She smiled again, feeling a languorous drowsiness creep over her.

Per Hansa knit away on the net, chatting happily with her as he worked; a confident ring of joy sounded in all he said. He had fastened the net to the bedpost, just as her father always had done. She listened peacefully to his warm, cheerful voice, which after a while began to sound more distant, like the indolent swish and gurgle of lapping ocean waves on a fair summer’s night. Gradually she was borne away on this sound, and slept the whole night through without stirring.

When she awoke next morning Per Hansa, still fully dressed, lay beside her, over against the wall; he evidently had thrown himself down to rest only a little while before. Light was creeping into the room; directly in front of the bed lay a big white heap of something.... Those careless boys—had they thrown their clothes on the floor again?... She stooped over to pick the clothes up and put them on the bench; she grasped hold of the heap—and it was a new net, sheeted and fully rigged, as a new net ought to be!

... Poor man!—he must have sat up all night!... She spread the quilt carefully over him.

That morning Beret took some of the precious white flour and made a batch of pancakes. He deserved to have one good meal before he went away again!

He left right after breakfast. Beret worked industriously throughout the day, while many thoughts came and went.... It must be her destiny, this! There was One who governed all things.... He knew what was best, and against His will it was useless to struggle!...

... Often that day she went to the window to look eastward. Every time she looked, it seemed to be growing darker over there....

... That evening she again covered the window....