Giants in the earth

I

PER HANSA and the boys sat around the table, sifting the seed; the wheat lay spread in small heaps on the white cloth. This was important work and must be done with the greatest care; every little weed seed and other foreign substance had to be gleaned out. The seed must be clean, so the Trönders had cautioned Per Hansa; and now he was attending to it soberly, with infinite pains. If he found a shrunken or damaged kernel, he straightway threw it out—thank you, not that! The best only for new soil!... Full kernels will make the bin bulge.... “Be careful, boys! Be careful, there! Don’t shirk your job!”

It was wonderful to be sitting here playing with these plump, precious kernels; never before had Per Hansa been so absorbed in a task of this kind, yet it made him thoughtful, too.... Here, then, was the start! These few sacks of grain would not only supply him and his family with all the wheat flour they needed for a whole year, but would raise many bright dollars as well, a great store of riches.... And more than that, seed for the next year, seed again for the year after, and thus down through all the years to come.... And always greater and greater abundance of food for the poor, the world over.... Here he sat playing with the good fairies that had the power to create a new life over this Endless Wilderness, and transform it into a habitable land for human beings. Wasn’t it wonderful?

He began to think of the possibility of selling seed next year. No doubt there would be many new settlers by then, who would stand in need of such things. If he could only afford it, he would store the whole crop—seed wheat brought high prices.... Well, he would see; a good many things might happen as time went on!...

And here he held in his hand the very promise of all these wonders which were destined to take place! He recalled how the fairy tale started: “Once upon a time....” Not much of a beginning, yet the most startling events would unfold as the story went on—strange, incredible things.... Yes, he would have to take every precaution with the seed. His face grew sober at the thought; he spoke in a low tone to the boys, repeating the admonition for the hundredth time: “Boys, look out, now! Didn’t I just tell you to be careful!” ... His wonder grew as he gazed at the kernels; there they lay, so inanimate, yet so plump and heavy, glowing with smouldering flame. It was as if each kernel had light within it—life now asleep. He thrust his hand into the sack and took out a handful of grain; it weighed like lead. As his grasp tightened, the kernels seemed to soften under the warmth of his hand; they squirmed and twisted, slipping against one another; they seemed to be charged with a delicate life that was seeking release. But when he opened his hand and stirred a finger among the grain, the kernels lay there as lifelessly as before—inert, yellowish pale, yet burning faintly with inner, golden light.... Reverently he lifted handful after handful from the table, and emptied it into the sack.

As the mild spring weather set in, a feverish restlessness seized him; the work on the seed was done and he could not stay indoors.... The chickens were laying finely now; he was finding as many as five eggs a day. They’d better begin setting the hens pretty soon; when fall came, they would have at least fifty fowl on the place!... Next minute he was over on the prairie, talking to and caressing the oxen, and feeling of their necks where the yoke would lie.... Now if the ground would only dry up! Per Hansa looked at it the first thing in the morning, and felt of it every night before he went to bed. To-day it had made fine progress. Good God—if the sun would only shine as warm to-morrow.... He dashed off to the neighbours, to see how the ground was coming on there. No, it was wetter than at his place, where the land lay higher.... I’ll bet my land is going to be the first to dry up! he told himself.

Beret hadn’t seen him in such good spirits since last spring. He walked so lightly; everything that had life he touched with a gentle hand, but talk to it he must; his voice sounded low, yet it thrilled with a vibrant energy; his eyes were drawn so narrow that they could hardly be seen. She felt a force that made her tremble, emanating from him; she tried to keep out of his way as much as she could.

And now the sun bore down on the prairie the whole livelong day. Bright and quivering in the forenoon, he swam through endless seas of blue; across the hazy afternoon he beamed caressingly; toward evening he opened wide his countenance; then the flood of light grew refulgent, only to die in splendour against a mysterious night which also had life.

As the fine weather continued, Per Hansa became more restless, but it only seemed to fill him with greater joy. Suddenly he would be up by the field. Wasn’t it dry enough yet?... He ought to have had the seeding all done by now; it was high time to begin breaking new ground.

On the 14th of April, the Sommermaalsdag of his old fatherland, Per Hansa began seeding the wheat. Three times that forenoon he had been out to test the ground; the last time he made his great decision: Now we will start!

No sooner had he finished the noon meal than he rushed out, grabbed the seed bag that he had made for this occasion, and carried two sacks of seed up to that portion of the field where the ground was driest. He had paced off the whole field into one-acre lots, and marked each plot. One and one-half bushels of seed to the acre was the regular measure; but Simon Baarstad had told him that on really first-class breaking, provided the soil was unusually excellent, one and one-quarter bushels might do; and Per Hansa had decided to try the latter amount.

He filled the seed bag, hung it over his shoulder, and was ready. His whole body shook. He paused for an instant and glanced about the settlement.... Yes, sir, he was the first, the very first one! There was Hans Olsa hauling manure to his garden patch.... That’s smart of you, Hans Olsa!... Down to the southward he caught sight of Tönseten pottering around his yard.... So much for you!... Then he turned to look in a northerly direction.... By God, if the Solum boys hadn’t already started breaking!... Muttering, “Well, well, well,” he strode over to the edge of the field and stuck his hand into the bag.

But just at that moment both boys appeared on the dead run; they had discovered what their father was up to, and wanted to watch the show.

“Go home!” shouted Per Hansa. “Go home! Do you hear me?”

“Why can’t we stand here and watch?” the boys remonstrated, their faces gloomy with disappointment.

“Go home this instant!... I don’t want you tramping around here, carrying off this precious seed on your shoes!” ... He suddenly realized that it was very wrong of him to be so harsh with the boys in an hour like this. When he spoke again, his voice had grown kinder: “Sowing wheat is such a particular job—each kernel has to lie exactly the way it falls. Be good now, boys, and go straight home—and the first to wake up to-morrow morning shall start the dragging! I’ll see to it that one of you covers as much ground as the other—but the first to wake shall start!” ... With this promise the boys had to be content; they went off homeward in a rebellious mood.

Again Per Hansa thrust his hand into the bag and his fingers closed on the grain. He felt profoundly that the greatest moment of his life had come. Now he was about to sow wheat on his own ground! His hand tightened in the bag; he was on the point of lifting it out, when something queer happened—the kernels were running out between his fingers! He gave another grab, closing his hand still tighter; again the yellow kernels slipped through his fingers like squirming eels. Then Per Hansa threw back his head and laughed. These fellows aren’t very anxious to go into the ground after riches for me!... He ran his hand around in the bag, stroking the grain caressingly, taking great handfuls and giving them a gentle squeeze.

... And now the wheat rained down in yellow semicircles from Per Hansa’s hand; as the seed fell, the warm rays of the sun struck full across it, and seemed to wrap it in golden light.... Per Hansa restrained himself, working slowly and carefully—the seeding must be even and not too thick. But almost at once he grew very heated; his body was dripping with sweat. He couldn’t explain this for a while; it wasn’t hard work at all. Oh, well, he thought at last—that’s always the way when you tackle a job you don’t understand!

Late in the afternoon Tönseten came running up the hill, so hard that his heels seemed to be flying over his head.

“What in hell are you starting here. Per Hansa?” he demanded, breathlessly.

“Can’t you see?” laughed Per Hansa; but he hardly dared to look at his neighbour, for fear he would lose his marks.

Tönseten stared at him in amazement. “You’re plumb crazy, man, and I don’t mind telling you so!... The ground isn’t half dry enough yet for that—the soil is too cold! Why, damn it all, there’s a foot of frost in the ground!... Much good it will do you to throw away all that seed!” ... Into this last, Tönseten threw all the scorn of the man who really knows; in fact, he felt too seriously disturbed to utter another syllable; so, having done his duty and delivered his ominous message, he turned on his heel and stalked majestically away.

As long as the daylight lasted, Per Hansa kept on seeding.... After supper he sat at the table without moving; he didn’t want to get up; a pleasant feeling of languorous exhaustion had settled on him, the reaction from his excitement. And-Ongen crawled up into his lap and begged for a story, but got no response; the boys came storming in, demanding that he call them both at the same time to-morrow morning.... No, he said in a dreamy, abstracted voice, that wouldn’t do; there wasn’t any hurry; better let the sun have time to warm up the ground a bit before they covered the grain. But the bargain still held; the one who turned out first, yoked the oxen and hitched them to the drag, he was to start the dragging! “And now,” he added, rising from the table, “I’ll tell you this, boys—if we are any good at all, we’ll have the whole field seeded and dragged by the time the porridge is on the table to-morrow night!”

The next day Per Hansa worked like one possessed. Now that he had at last caught the trick with the seeding, he made fine progress. When evening fell that day he had finished his task, while the boys had done almost as well, with only the oats left to drag.... Per Hansa walked home that night in great satisfaction. Now he had turned a fine trick—he was through seeding and dragging before his neighbours had even thought of beginning the regular spring work!...

II

When Per Hansa left the house next morning to finish the dragging, the air was raw and heavy; a penetrating wind blew over the prairie, as if searching for signs of life to wither and blight; not a trace remained of the mildness and pleasantness of the previous days.

Before he had finished covering the oats, the rain began to fall; along with the rain came huge flakes of snow, floating silently down and turning to slush as they struck the ground. After a while the rain ceased, but the snow only came faster; the flakes were firmer now, and fell in a businesslike manner. Before long a veritable blizzard was raging over the whole prairie—there had hardly been anything worse that winter.

Throughout that day and the following night the storm continued with unabated fury. Early on the next morning the weather cleared; but now the cold was so intense that it nipped the skin as soon as one stuck one’s head out-of-doors. Spring seemed a thousand miles off.

That night Per Hansa did not sleep a wink. How could he sleep, with this tragedy going on? He was nothing but an old sailor; he didn’t know the least thing about farming. God Almighty! hadn’t he good reason to lie awake?... Here he had gone to work and wasted all his precious seed—had simply thrown it away, because he was foolish and hasty! And there wasn’t even a chance to extricate himself from the mess he had made! Out in the field, under the snow, lay all that priceless wheat, smothered to death and frozen as hard as flint.... He could stand the loss of the oats, perhaps—but, God! the wheat! Twenty-five bushels he had sacrificed, all the work gone to no purpose, and no possible way of getting a fresh supply of seed.... As he opened the door that morning, saw two feet of snow covering the ground, and felt the bitter cold stinging his face, he had an irresistible impulse to fling himself down in the snowdrift and cry like a baby!...

He turned around, came into the hut again, and lay down on the bed.... No, he didn’t want any breakfast! He shouted out the words. All the forenoon he lay silent and motionless. When noon came and he refused to eat any dinner, Beret went to the bed and asked him what was the matter. Did he feel sick? But he only turned his face to the wall, muttering hoarsely that those who felt like eating had better do so. Leave him alone; he’d be all right again—some time.... Beret began to feel concerned about him; after a while she brought him a bowl of soup, but he only sat up in bed and commenced to find fault with her like an unreasonable child.... For God’s sake, couldn’t she leave him alone? He had told her he didn’t want anything to eat, and wasn’t that enough?... Well, then ... Oh, hell!...

In the afternoon the sun shone strong and brilliant, but the cold was too intense for it to make any impression on the snow.... Per Hansa was still lying in bed; the bright sunshine outside, reflecting on the white walls of the room, seemed to sear his eyeballs; he felt that the only thing that would give him relief would be to get up, strike out wildly, and curse everything around him—for he was fighting an unseen enemy.... He had come to his great decision; he had done the seeding; he had felt clearly that it was the most momentous day of his life; but no sooner had the last kernel fallen to the ground than the very powers of heaven had stepped down to defeat him!... Powers of heaven...?

A certain image came before his eyes, and would not go away. One Sunday not very long ago, Store-Hans had sat by the table reading to his mother; Per Hansa remembered it vividly, because the words had sounded so awful to him. At last he had gotten up to look over the boy’s shoulder; Store-Hans was reading in a loud voice, throwing great emphasis into the words:

“And the Lord said unto Satan, whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it....”

The words would not go away. Per Hansa fell to repeating them.... And that night as he lay wide awake, tossing restlessly on the bed, he thought that he saw a beam just inside the door of the stable ... and there was a rope.... Well, if that fellow was after him, he might as well give up!... Sweat broke out on his body ... the beam and the rope beckoned him ... they seemed to call to him!...

The snow went faster than anyone would have believed; it began to settle on the day after the weather had cleared, grew soft toward evening, and the next day’s sun took all of it away. It seemed to leave very little water; within a short while the ground was drier than before.... And now came days when the warm, bright sunshine filled everything between heaven and earth. As the sun sank, he left part of his heat behind him; the nights grew soft and balmy, and stirred with mysterious life.... At length evenings so sweet and beautiful began to visit the prairie, that, as the saying is, dead men might willingly step out of their graves and walk about. But all this could not alter the fact that Per Hansa’s precious seed grain lay over there in the field, ruined by frost and snow—those marvellous, pregnant kernels, so delicate and sensitive.... Damn the luck!...

One day as Per Hansa was pottering about out-of-doors, hardly knowing which way to turn, he caught sight of Tönseten, who had commenced his seeding. Like a condemned man about to be executed Per Hansa walked over.... Tönseten is an aboriginal American, he thought, bitterly. I might as well let him polish off the damned fool of a newcomer!

But to-day Tönseten was too busy even to talk. Per Hansa didn’t feel inclined to open up the subject of his own troubles; he began on a different tack, to head the other off:

“I must say you certainly sow it even!”

Tönseten spat a prodigious distance.... “You think so?” ... But he didn’t stop for a moment; his arms continued to cut wide semicircles in the air; golden grain flew out of his hand and rained down to the ground through the warm sunlight, there to begin the mystic dream of life.

This is beautiful! thought Per Hansa.... I couldn’t sow it as even as that.

“I was a fool for not waiting to get you to do the seeding for me,” he observed.

Tönseten spat another great mouthful before he answered:

“Well, some people are bound to cut off their nose to spite their face.... But then—this is a free country, you know!” ... He walked on with measured steps, his arm sweeping in long, graceful curves; the kernels flew far and wide, catching the sunlight a moment as they fell.

Per Hansa turned abruptly, and began to walk toward home. When Tönseten noticed this, he stopped his work and called out:

“Did you want anything, Per Hansa?”

“Hell—no!”

“All right. To-day, you see, I’m a busy man!”

Per Hansa started to answer, choked, and continued to walk away. His head was in a whirl as he went on toward his own field, which seemed to be making faces at him as he drew nearer; it was indeed a forbidding countenance that he saw there, lifeless and black and bare. Reaching the field, he fell on his knees, dug into the soil, and picked up the first kernel he came across; he laid it in the palm of his left hand and turned it over and over with the forefinger of his right; the seed was black with clammy dirt, which clung tightly to it. Slowly and carefully he picked off the particles of soil—and there it lay, a pale little thing, greyish-white and dirty, the golden sheen through which he had read the fairy tale, entirely gone, the magic departed, the seed cold and dead.

Per Hansa dropped it without a word, and dug in the ground until he had found another kernel. The one he now picked up had the same lifeless color, but it was swollen and seemed about to burst open.... “This is the frost!”—he mumbled, hoarsely.—“It’s all begun to rot!” ... He rose to his feet and stood there as if chained to the spot, the very personification of gloom, gazing out over the face of his dead dream.... “Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.” ... There can’t be much doubt that he’s found this place, all right—the devil salt and pickle his guts!...

III

Over on the piece of field which Per Hansa had broken, during the last few days the boys were now busy at work with the dragging. He had set them to the task early that morning, but had not yet made up his mind what to put into the field. Now he walked over to them.

One of the boys was driving; the other sat on the harrow, making grooves with his heels in the loose dirt; on each round of the field they exchanged places. They had quarrelled considerably over who could drive the straightest; now they were trying to decide this momentous question by judging the straightness of the grooves made on each round.

The boys stopped as they saw their father approaching. “Isn’t this piece four acres?” Ole demanded, boisterously. “It should be,” their father answered in a tired voice.

“All right,” beamed Ole. “If we plant potatoes in the whole piece and get a hundred and fifty bushels to the acre, we’ll have six hundred bushels in all!”

“Then we’ll sell ’em!” Store-Hans broke in, his eye snapping.

“Shut up, you! This is my idea!” Ole turned again to his father and kept on with his arithmetic: “We can’t get less than thirty cents a bushel, can we? I’ll be able to help you haul them to town. And that’ll be exactly one hundred and eighty dollars. Gee! What a lot!” The boy looked proudly at his father, and added with a grown-up air, “We ought to get the potatoes planted at once—that’s my opinion!”

But then Store-Hans had a great inspiration, and flashed out:

“When we get as much money as that, just for potatoes, we’ll buy a shotgun. Hurrah!”

“Stop your nonsense and get to work!” said Per Hansa, harshly. “You need a pair of pants to cover your bottom, more than you do a gun.... Move on, now, I tell you!”

On the way home that morning, Per Hansa realized one thing more clearly than ever before—unless he could find something to occupy his body and mind, and find it right away, he would go all to pieces one of these fine days.... Well, why not do as Ole suggested? Here was this piece of new field, and it had to be put to some use.... If that fellow was loose around these parts, Per Hansa might as well give him a run for his money!...

The minute Per Hansa reached home he opened the root cellar and began carrying out potatoes. He took out all that he judged they could possibly spare and began to cut them up into small pieces; he was determined to have enough seed to cover the whole field.... Oh yes, no doubt this was insanely foolish, too, but, damn it all, he might as well come to ruination at once and be done with it!...

The planting kept the three of them busy for the rest of that week. When Sunday morning came, Per Hansa rose at the usual time, ate his breakfast in silence, and then went back to bed. And-Ongen crawled into bed with him and stirred up a terrible commotion; he must wake now and tell her a story. Getting no answer, she pulled his hair and pinched his cheek and tugged at his nose. The carrying-on of the child made a pleasant diversion for him in his dark mood. Beret sat by the table, reading the Bible. To his great relief, she said little these days.... As he lay there brooding he was turning over and over in his mind a new idea—mightn’t he make another trip to the Sioux River? Perhaps he could yet scare up a couple of sacks of wheat there. The seeding would be far behind-hand, that’s true; but barring any more bad luck, he would at least be able to harvest enough seed grain for another year.... But it was so late now—too late, really, to think of such a thing. Perhaps he had better go to Sioux Falls or Worthington and try to get work for the summer. Beret and the boys could easily get along without him.... No, he couldn’t quite make up his mind as to what would be best.... All the while And-Ongen was pommelling him because he wouldn’t tell her a story.

Suddenly a violent stamping of feet sounded outside; some one came running up, with another close at his heels.

Ole jerked the door open, took one leap, and landed in the middle of the floor. The boy was wild-eyed with excitement.

“Per Hansa!” he cried, calling his father by name. “The wheat is up!” Then he took another leap and stood leaning over the bed. “The wheat is up, I say!... Can’t you hear me?” ...

But now Store-Hans came storming in, all out of breath: “Father Per Hansa—the wheat is so high!”

“You shut up!” raged his brother. “I came first!”

“I guess I can tell it, too!” Store-Hans paid no further attention to his brother; he was standing now by the bed, measuring on his finger. “The wheat is so high, the oats about up to here!... Don’t you suppose we can buy a shotgun?”

Per Hansa said never a word; he got up, trembling in every limb, and put the child aside. In a moment he had left the house and rushed up to the field. There he stood spellbound, gazing at the sight spread before him. His whole body shook; tears came to his eyes, so that he found it difficult to see clearly. And well he might be surprised. Over the whole field tiny green shoots were quivering in the warm sunshine.

Store-Hans was standing now by his father’s side; he looked at him in consternation.

“Are you sick, father?”

No answer.

“Why, you’re crying!”

“You’re ... so—foolish, Store-Hans!” Per Hansa was blowing his nose violently.... “So terribly foolish!” he added, softly, and straightened himself up with a new energy.

Store-Hans now began to feel reassured about his father. The boy turned to the field and spoke in a voice thrilled with delight:

“Isn’t it dandy?”

The silence continued for a while longer. But at last his father cleared his throat. “Come here, Store-Hans!” Per Hansa placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What are you going to be when you grow up?”

“When I grow up?” repeated the boy, wonderingly. “Well, a general ... one like Grant.”

Per Hansa looked at him, a strange chuckling sound issuing from his throat:

“What about being a minister?... We need a minister more.”

“Oh, well,” said Store-Hans, indifferently. “I suppose I can be that, too.... Don’t you think we can get a shotgun pretty soon?”

Per Hansa was a different man when he walked home; the spring had come back to his step. Entering the house, he sat down by his wife, who was still reading the Bible, and said, abruptly:

“You’d better read us a chapter!” Then he cleared his throat and looked around the room. “No more nonsense, boys! Come here and sit down quietly while mother reads to us.”

IV

That summer many happenings took place in the settlement by Spring Creek. For those who had been here from the beginning, associations were slowly growing up outside of the day’s work. At the very last of May the Irish arrived, with many new land-seekers in their company; they all settled west by the sloughs, so as to have access to water for the cattle. The first part of June the Vossings and Sognings put into port; they, too, brought many new homesteaders with them. The latter folk all settled east of the creek, spreading eastward and southward, to bring them nearer to town. Here the soil was first class, too; and Tönseten assured them that water was no problem, if they would dig deep enough.... Water! Why, good Lord! wasn’t the whole earth surrounded by water?... Talk sense, folks, and get your houses built!... Soon one new sod house after another began to stick its head above the waving grass of the prairie.

Among the Sognings was a tall, heavily built man, with a light complexion and rather good looking, but loud spoken and given to bragging. All his words and actions had an irritating arrogance; he was always right; at times he got on everyone’s nerves, because he talked so much and with such cocksureness. Luck had been with him, it seemed; he had received a considerable inheritance from the old country; while living in Minnesota he had cleared much land, which he had been able to dispose of at a fine price; rumour had it that he was worth at least three thousand dollars in cash, besides other property; and this report he did not deny. The man had a large family; his name was Torkel Tallaksen.

Not long after the arrival of this man, Store-Hans had a fight with one of the Tallaksen boys. It came about in this way: the boys chanced to meet down by the creek one day, as they were both out chasing the cattle, Store-Hans riding his pony, the other boy a common old work horse.

“Where did you swipe that pony?” the stranger shouted, challengingly.

“I didn’t swipe it!”

“Where did you get it, then?”

“Oh, I just got it.”

“Can’t you tell?”

“Come here, if you want to know.”

The two boys dismounted, looked each other over, then sat down and fell to talking. Store-Hans was eager to inform this tenderfoot of the mighty things they had done out here; he related how the pony had come to be his, giving the story a picturesque turn whenever he saw the chance. He and his father, he told the stranger, had rescued an Indian chief—well, it was the highest chief over all the Indians out West. This chief was dying; he was almost dead when they found him.... What was the matter? Well, there had been a terrible battle; the Indian had been desperately wounded—shot and left for dead.... But he and his father had cured him, and they had received this pony as a reward.

The other boy listened scornfully to the story, said “humph—humph” a good many times, and finally declared the whole thing to be a lie; people out here were such awful liars, so his father had told him!...

Store-Hans could hardly stand this accusation, for hadn’t he himself helped in restoring the Indian to life? So without further ado he pitched into the other boy and the fight was on. It proved a tough battle; clothes were torn and both combatants sneezed gore. The bloody noses didn’t matter much, for they could be washed; but it would be more serious to have to explain the tattered shirts. The boys fought it out, however; finally the newcomer had to admit that truth is truth and take back all he had said. This mollified Store-Hans; he let the other boy try the pony, and they became friends. But the same evening he had to tell the incident to his father; after the nose had been washed and properly cooled, it had taken on alarming proportions, which called for an explanation; this Per Hansa got as he sat on the woodpile, smoking his evening pipe, with Store-Hans standing near by.

All the new settlers that spring, with the exception of Torkel Tallaksen, built sod houses; but he had vaster plans in mind. He set up a tent, hitched his four horses to the breaking plow, worked like a beaver, and soon had broken a big field, considering the fact that he had just arrived. He had brought seed enough with him to plant the whole area. Rumours began to spread in the settlement about his plans; when he was done seeding he proposed to go to Worthington after lumber; both his living house and barn were to be built this summer.... Per Hansa listened to these rumours and cocked his head on one side, but made no comment.

One day just as they were sitting down to the noon meal at Per Hansa’s, Torkel Tallaksen swaggered in and asked in a loud voice if he could hire Per Hansa and the oxen to go to Worthington with him for building materials? All the other neighbours were going, too.... “You folks have been here so long now, and have got such a good start that you can afford to lend a hand to a poor devil who is just starting in! I need all the critters that can crawl, with me. I’ll pay you in either work or cash—but I prefer cash, for then it’s over with!... No, thank you, I’m not going to sit down; I just stepped in on my way to your neighbours’.... Fine fields you’ve got on this side of the creek. You ought to get a fairly decent harvest, considering.... How big is that field of yours, anyway?... Good Lord! Not more than that in a whole year?... Well, I’ll give you a tip—oxen aren’t any good; they’re too slow for the way things go nowadays.... Fine-looking house you’ve got, inside, but sod houses aren’t much better than dugouts—in some ways, really not so good.... For my part, I am through with such poor makeshifts.... Well, can I count on you, then?” ... Tallaksen referred to this trip as airily as if he were asking for a match.

“Are you going to build?” Per Hansa asked, quietly.

“You bet I am. Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you? If I’m to stay here, I intend to live like a human being!” ... And now he began outlining his building plans and explaining them at length.... “Oh yes, there’s a lot to do before I get everything ready; but I intend to hire plenty of help and get it done in a jiffy. See? I’ve come out here to break prairie, I want you to know.... If crops turn out decently this year, I’ll snap up one more quarter by fall, or perhaps two. Really”—here the man grew confidential—“I don’t see any nameable reason why a smart man couldn’t farm a whole section of land like this—or even more. Why, you’ve only got to put the plow into the level prairie!... But first of all, I want to build a decent house; the painting I’ll let go until fall.” ... His voice flowed on in such a steady stream that no one else could get in a word edgewise.

“You’re going to paint?” Per Hansa asked, and got up from the table abruptly. He was breathing fast.

“Paint? Why, certainly! It would never do to let a house stand unpainted in this climate. It wouldn’t look well, either.”

A look of innocent curiosity rested on Beret’s face as she listened to the great plans being unfolded before her. She seemed lost in thought, and asked in a quiet tone if it were really true that he intended to build a home like that—now, at once, this summer? It would be a fine thing, she added—and there was a note of wistful gladness in her voice—to see a real house once more. It would make the desert look brighter....

At that Torkel Tallaksen had to laugh outright; he had never seen such a houseful of moles! Here he had been explaining till he was hoarse, but apparently they hadn’t understood one word of it! What was the use of wasting more breath on them?... He turned to go.

“Well,” he said to Per Hansa in an important voice, “can I count on you for the trip?”

Per Hansa paused over his answer. They were all looking at him inquiringly when he spoke:

“It seems to me,” he began, quietly, “that you are starting from the wrong end.” Again he paused, for he found it hard to choose his words. “If you would take the money that you intend to spend in building and put it into cattle and horses and machinery, and hire help enough to run them, then the devil himself couldn’t keep up with you. In a few years you’d be the king of all of us—though God knows we’d much rather have another. But this I tell you, now”—prophetic power rang in Per Hansa’s voice—“if you start from the other end and do as you’ve been proposing, then you and I will fight—yes, you and I!—for both the scepter and the crown ... though all I’ve got now, God knows, is a pair of pants and a yoke of oxen!” ...

Torkel Tallaksen laughed overbearingly. “One doesn’t need to live in a gopher hole, in order to get ahead!... Here, too, will have to come decency and civilized living.”

The words stung Per Hansa like a whip lash; in his effort to control himself he felt in his pocket for a match, found one, and hurled it to the floor.... “We’ll get our decency and civilized living all right—even if you should go back where you came from!... And now let me tell you one thing more—it’s better to begin in a gopher hole than to end in one.” ...

Before Torkel Tallaksen was able to collect himself for a reply, Beret said, slowly, as if thinking aloud, but in a manner that compelled attention:

“Your wife certainly will have many reasons to be glad. Walls that will shut out all the unspeakable things out here ... floors that can be washed on the Sabbath eve.... I know too well that human beings should not live like beasts! After they have turned into beasts, houses don’t matter.” ...

Torkel Tallaksen looked at the woman as if he had discovered her for the first time.... Uh-huh, he nodded; here’s the common sense of this outfit!... “Right you are, and no doubt about it! I wouldn’t live like this for all the prairie land in the whole of Dakota Territory.... But now things are going to be different, if I have anything to say about it. We’re going to build houses that can stand up and be seen; people won’t need to wonder whether this is a settlement or a gopher camp!” Suddenly a fresh idea seemed to strike him: “Perhaps you’d like to help my wife weave a few carpets? She’s all the time talking about carpets, and I suppose she must have ’em.... They save the floors, too.”

“I would be glad to try,” said Beret, humbly. “One ought to help another get what she cannot have for herself.... I think it would be interesting work.”

As he listened to his wife, Per Hansa was fumbling in his pocket for another match; at last he brought it out, struck it on the table, and held it until it burned down to the end. The room was swimming before his eyes; words floated across his vision—words that he longed to use; he reached out for them, but they melted into the air; what Beret had said had driven them away.... Per Hansa sat down heavily on the chest, his face pale and drawn.

“All right—that’s settled, then!” said Torkel Tallaksen. Then he turned to Per Hansa: “We start the day after to-morrow. I’m counting on you, remember—you and the oxen.... You’ll be needing some one to haul for you pretty soon, when you once get on your feet.”

Silence fell on the room. The man stood there, waiting for an answer.

“You’d better count over again!” Per Hansa growled. Without another word he sprang up from the chest and left the house. In a gruff voice he called to the oxen. That day he kept on breaking as long as he could see. When he unhitched at last he walked in slowly from the field, stooping over in thought; he could hardly bring himself to going home. What business had he there—what earthly business?... The sod house and all it contained lay in a great darkness, yet he was drawn toward it irresistibly....

... Perhaps it was true? What she had said might be more than half right—everything here was a failure, and he himself was no good.... A thought cut him to the very quick: “That’s the reward you get for fighting and striving—she says you are no good!” ... To think that she hadn’t felt ashamed, that she had been willing to lay bare her troubles to that infernal blabberer and braggart!... Had she lost all sense of propriety?... “Oh, hell! Get up, there!” he ripped out to the oxen.

But as it transpired, Torkel Tallaksen’s great plans ran up against a snag. Tönseten didn’t care to go along unless Per Hansa went, for he was fully occupied with his own affairs. And the Solum boys were not overly enthusiastic; they were busy breaking prairie when Tallaksen came, and answered him that they would see how the others felt about it, and let him know. It finally developed that Torkel Tallaksen could engage only two men and two teams, which weren’t enough to haul home all the materials for a whole farmstead. And so, in the face of the inevitable, Torkel Tallaksen had to give up building for that summer.... Thus it happened that before the fall set in, another sod hut stuck its head above the waving grass of the prairie.

That summer many land seekers passed through the settlement on their way west. The arrival of a caravan was always an event of the greatest importance. How exciting they were, those little ships of the Great Plain! The prairie schooners, rigged with canvas tops which gleamed whitely in the shimmering light, first became visible as tiny specks against the eastern sky; one might almost imagine them to be sea gulls perched far, far away on an endless green meadow; but as one continued to watch, the white dots grew; they came drifting across the prairie like the day; after long waiting, they gradually floated out of the haze, distinct and clear; then, as they drew near, they proved to be veritable wagons, with horses hitched ahead, with folk and all their possessions inside, and a whole herd of cattle following behind.

The caravan would crawl slowly into the settlement and come to anchor in front of one of the sod houses; the moment it halted, people would swarm down and stretch themselves and begin to look after the teams; cattle would bellow; sheep would bleat as they ran about. Many queer races and costumes were to be seen in these caravans, and a babble of strange tongues shattered the air. Nut-brown youngsters, dressed only in a shirt and a pair of pants, would fly around between the huts, looking for other youngsters; an infant, its mother crooning softly to it, would sit securely perched in the fold of her arm; white-haired old men and women, who should have been living quietly at home, preparing for a different journey, were also to be seen in the group, running about like youngsters; the daily jogging from sky line to sky line had brightened their eyes and quickened their tongues. All were busy; each had a thousand questions to ask; every last one of them was in high spirits, though they knew no other home than the wagon and the blue skies above.... The Lord only could tell whence all these people had come and whither they were going!...

The caravan usually intended to stop only long enough for the women folk to boil coffee and get a fresh supply of water; but the starting was always delayed, for the men had so many questions to ask. Once in a while during these halts a fiddler would bring out his fiddle and play a tune or two, and then there would be dancing. Such instances were rare, but good cheer and excitement invariably accompanied these visits.

—Why not settle right here? The Spring Creek folk would ask the west-movers.... There’s plenty of good land left—nothing better to be found between here and the Pacific Ocean!

—No, not yet. They weren’t quite ready to settle; these parts looked fairly crowded.... The farther west, the better.... They guessed they would have to go on a way, though this really looked pretty good!...

And so the caravans would roll onward into the green stillness of the west. How strange—they vanished faster than they had appeared! The white sails grew smaller and smaller in the glow of the afternoon, until they had dwindled to nothing; the eye might seek them out there in the waning day, and search till it grew blurred, but all in vain—they were gone, and had left no trace!...

---

Foggy weather had now been hanging over the prairie for three whole days; a warm mist of rain mizzled continuously out of the low sky. Toward evening of the third day, the fog lifted and clear sky again appeared; the setting sun burst through the cloud banks rolling up above the western horizon, and transformed them into marvellous fairy castles.... While this was going on, over to the northeast of the Solum boys’ place a lonely wagon had crept into sight; it had almost reached the creek before anyone had noticed it, for the Solum boys were visiting among the Sognings, where there were many young people. But as Beret sat out in the yard, milking, the wagon crossed her view. When she brought in the milk, she remarked in her quiet manner that they were going to have company, at which tidings the rest of the family had to run out and see who might be coming at this time of day.

There was only one wagon, with two cows following behind; on the left side walked a brown-whiskered, stooping man—he was doing the driving; close behind him came a half-grown boy, dragging his feet heavily. The wagon at last crawled up the hill and came to a stop in Per Hansa’s yard, where the whole family stood waiting.

“I don’t suppose there are any Norwegians in this settlement. No, that would be too much to expect,” said the man in a husky, worn-out voice.

“If you’re looking for Norwegians, you have found the right place, all right! We sift the people as they pass through here—keep our own, and let the others go!” ... Per Hansa wanted to run on, for he felt in high spirits; but he checked himself, observing that the man looked as if he stood on the very brink of the grave.

—Was there any chance of putting up here for the night?

“Certainly! certainly!” cried Per Hansa, briskly, “provided they were willing to take things as they were.”

The man didn’t answer, but walked instead to the wagon and spoke to some one inside:

“Kari, now you must brace up and come down. Here we have found Norwegians at last!” As if fearing a contradiction, he added: “Ya, they are real Norwegians. I’ve talked with them.”

On top of his words there came out of the wagon, first a puny boy with a hungry face, somewhat smaller than the other boy; then a girl of about the same size, but looking much older. She helped to get down another boy, about six years old, who evidently had been sleeping and looked cross and tired. That seemed to be all.

The man stepped closer to the wagon. “Aren’t you coming, Kari?”

A groan sounded within the canvas. The girl grabbed hold of her father’s arm. “You must untie the rope! Can’t you remember anything?” she whispered, angrily.

“Ya, that’s right! Wait a minute till I come and help you.”

An irresistible curiosity took hold of Per Hansa; in two jumps he stood on the tongue of the wagon. The sight that met his eyes sent chills running down his spine. Inside sat a woman on a pile of clothes, with her back against a large immigrant chest; around her wrists and leading to the handles of the chest a strong rope was tied; her face was drawn and unnatural. Per Hansa trembled so violently that he had to catch hold of the wagon box, but inwardly he was swearing a steady stream. To him it looked as if the woman was crucified.

... “For God’s sake, man!” ...

The stranger paid no attention; he was pottering about and pleading: “Come down now, Kari.... Ya, all right, I’ll help you! Everything’s going to be all right—I know it will!... Can you manage to get up?” He had untied the rope, and the woman had risen to her knees.

“O God!” she sighed, putting her hands to her head.

“Please come. That’s right; I’ll help you!” pleaded the man, as if he were trying to persuade a child.

She came down unsteadily. “Is this the place, Jakob?” she asked in a bewildered way. But now Beret ran up and put her arm around her; the women looked into each other’s eyes and instantly a bond of understanding had been established. “You come with me!” urged Beret.... “O God! This isn’t the place, either!” wailed the woman; but she followed Beret submissively into the house.

“Well, well!” sighed the man as he began to unhitch the horses. “Life isn’t easy—no, it certainly isn’t.” ...

Per Hansa watched him anxiously, hardly knowing what to do. Both the boys kept close to him. Then an idea flashed through his mind: “You boys run over to Hans Olsa’s and tell him not to go to bed until I come.... No, I don’t want him here. And you two stay over there to-night. Now run along!”

Turning to the man, he asked, “Aren’t there any more in your party?”

“No, not now. We were five, you see, to begin with—five in all—but the others had to go on.... Haven’t they been by here yet? Well, they must be somewhere over to the westward.... No, life isn’t easy.” ... The man wandered on in his monotonous, blurred tone; he sounded all the time as if he were half sobbing.

“Where do you come from?” Per Hansa demanded, gruffly.

The man didn’t give a direct answer, but continued to ramble on in the same mournful way, stretching his story out interminably.... They had been wandering over the prairie for nearly six weeks.... Ya, it was a hard life. When they had started from Houston County, Minnesota, there had been five wagons in all. Strange that the others hadn’t turned up here. Where could they be? It seemed to him as if he had travelled far enough to reach the ends of the earth!... Good God, what a nightmare life was! If he had only—only known...!

“Did the others go away and leave you?” Per Hansa hadn’t intended to ask that question, but it had slipped out before he realized what he was saying. He wondered if there could be anything seriously wrong....

“They couldn’t possibly wait for us—couldn’t have been expected to. Everything went wrong, you see, and I didn’t know when I would be able to start again.... Turn the horses loose, John,” he said to the boy. “Take the pail and see if you can squeeze some milk out of the cows. Poor beasts, they don’t give much now!” Then he turned to Per Hansa again: “I don’t know what would have become of us if we hadn’t reached this place to-night! We’d have been in a bad hole, that I assure you! Women folk can’t bear up....” The man stopped and blew his nose.

Per Hansa dreaded what might be coming next. “You must have got off your course, since you are coming down from the north?”

The man shook his head helplessly. “To tell the truth, I don’t know where we’ve been these last few days. We couldn’t see the sun.”

“Haven’t you got a compass?”

“Compass? No! I tried to steer with a rope, but the one I had wasn’t long enough.”

“Like hell you did!” exclaimed Per Hansa, excitedly, full of a sudden new interest.

“Ya, I tried that rope idea—hitched it to the back of the wagon, and let it drag in the wet grass. But it didn’t work—I couldn’t steer straight with it. The rope was so short, and kept kinking around so much, that it didn’t leave any wake.”

“Uh-huh!” nodded Per Hansa wisely. “You must be a seafaring man, to have tried that trick!”

“No, I’m no sailor. But fisher-folk out here have told me that it’s possible to steer by a rope.... I had to try something.”

“Where did you cross the Sioux?”

“How do I know where I crossed it? We came to a river a long way to the east of here—that must have been the Sioux. We hunted and hunted before we could find a place shallow enough to cross.... God! this has certainly been a wandering in the desert for me!... But if Kari only gets better, I won’t complain—though I never dreamed that life could be so hard.” ...

“Is she—is she sick, that woman of yours?”

The man did not answer this question immediately; he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. When he spoke again, his voice had grown even more blurred and indistinct: “Physically she seems to be as well as ever—as far as I can see. She certainly hasn’t overworked since we’ve been travelling. I hope there’s nothing wrong with her.... But certain things are hard to bear—I suppose it’s worse for the mother, too—though the Lord knows it hasn’t been easy for me, either!... You see, we had to leave our youngest boy out there on the prairie....”

“Leave him?” ... These were the only two words that came to Per Hansa’s mind.

“Ya, there he lies, our little boy!... I never saw a more promising man—you know what I mean—when he grew up.... But now—oh, well....”

Per Hansa felt faint in the pit of his stomach; his throat grew dry; his voice became as husky as that of the other; he came close up to him. “Tell me—how did this happen?”

The man shook his head again, in a sort of dumb despair. Then he cleared his throat and continued with great effort: “I can’t tell how it happened! Fate just willed it so. Such things are not to be explained.... The boy had been ailing for some time—we knew that, but didn’t pay much attention. We had other things to think of.... Then he began to fail fast. We were only one day’s journey this side of Jackson; so we went back. That was the time when the others left us. I don’t blame them much—it was uncertain when we could go on.... The doctor we found wasn’t a capable man—I realize it now. He spoke only English and couldn’t understand what I was saying. He had no idea what was wrong with the boy—I could see that plainly enough.... Ya, well—so we started again.... It isn’t any use to fight against Fate; that’s an old saying, and a true one, too, I guess.... Before long we saw that the boy wasn’t going to recover. So we hurried on, day and night, trying to catch our neighbours.... Well, that’s about all of it. One night he was gone—just as if you had blown out a candle. Ya, let me see—that was five nights ago.”

“Have you got him there in the wagon?” demanded Per Hansa, grabbing the man by the arm.

“No, no,” he muttered, huskily. “We buried him out there by a big stone—no coffin or anything. But Kari took the best skirt she had and wrapped it all around him—we had to do something, you know.... But,” he continued, suddenly straightening up, “Paul cannot lie there! As soon as I find my neighbours, I’ll go and get him. Otherwise Kari....” The man paused between the sobs that threatened to choke him. “I have had to tie her up the last few days. She insisted on getting out and going back to Paul. I don’t think she has had a wink of sleep for over a week.... It’s just as I was saying—some people can’t stand things.” ...

Per Hansa leaned heavily against the wagon. “Has she gone crazy?” he asked, hoarsely.

“She isn’t much worse than the rest of us. I don’t believe ... Kari is really a well-balanced woman ... but you can imagine how it feels, to leave a child that way....”

The boy, John, had finished milking. He had put the pail down and was standing a little way off, listening to his father’s story; suddenly he threw himself on the ground, sobbing as if in convulsions.

“John! John!” admonished the father. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself—a grown-up man like you! Take the milk and carry it into the house!”

“That’s right!” echoed Per Hansa, pulling himself together. “We’d better all go in. There’s shelter here, and plenty to eat.”

Beret was bustling around the room when they entered; she had put the woman to bed, and now was tending her. “Where are the boys?” she asked.

Per Hansa told her that he had sent them to Hans Olsa’s for the night.

“That was hardly necessary; we could have made room here somehow.” Beret’s voice carried a note of keen reproach.

The man had paused at the door; now he came over to the bed, took the limp hand, and muttered: “Poor soul!... Why, I believe she’s asleep already!”

Beret came up and pushed him gently aside. “Be careful. Don’t wake her. She needs the rest.”

“Ya, I don’t doubt it—not I! She hasn’t slept for a week, you see—the poor soul!” With a loud sniff, he turned and left the room.

When supper time came the woman seemed to be engulfed in a stupefying sleep. Beret did not join the others at the supper table, but busied herself, instead, by trying to make the woman more comfortable; she loosened her clothes, took off her shoes, and washed her face in warm water; during all this the stranger never stirred. That done, Beret began to fix up sleeping quarters for the strangers, in the barn. She carried in fresh hay and brought out all the bedding she had; she herself would take care of the woman, in case she awoke and needed attention. Beret did little talking, but she went about these arrangements with a firmness and confidence that surprised her husband.

Per Hansa came in from the barn, after helping the strangers settle themselves for the night. Beret was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressing the baby for the night; she had put And-Ongen to bed beside the distracted woman.

“Did she tell you much?” he asked in a low voice.

Beret glanced toward the other bed before she answered:

“Only that she had had to leave one of her children on the way. She wasn’t able to talk connectedly.”

“It’s a terrible thing!” he said, looking away from his wife. “I think I’ll go over to Hans Olsa’s for a minute. I want to talk this matter over with him.”

“Talk it over with him?” she repeated, coldly. “I don’t suppose Hans Olsa knows everything!”

“No, of course not. But these people have got to be helped, and we can’t do it all alone.” He hesitated for a minute, as if waiting for her consent. “Well, I won’t be gone long,” he said as he went out of the door.

When he returned, an hour later, she was still sitting on the edge of the bed, with the baby asleep on her lap. They sat in silence for a long while; at last he began to undress. She waited until he was in bed, then turned the lamp low and lay down herself, but without undressing.... The lamp shed only a faint light. It was so quiet in the room that one could hear the breathing of all the others. Beret lay there listening; though the room was still, it seemed alive to her with strange movements; she forced herself to open her eyes and look around. Noticing that Per Hansa wasn’t asleep, either, she asked:

“Did you look after the boys?”

“Nothing the matter with them! They were fast asleep in Sofie’s bed.”

“You told them everything, at Hans Olsa’s?”

“Of course!”

“What did they think of it?”

Per Hansa raised himself on his elbows and glanced at the broken creature lying in the bed back of theirs. The woman, apparently, had not stirred a muscle. “It’s a bad business,” he said. “We must try to get together a coffin and find the boy. We can’t let him lie out there—that way.” ... As Beret made no answer, he briefly narrated the story that the man had told him. “The fellow is a good-for-nothing, stupid fool, I’m sure of that,” concluded Per Hansa.

She listened to him in silence. For some time she brooded over her thoughts; then in a bitter tone she suddenly burst out: “Now you can see that this kind of a life is impossible! It’s beyond human endurance.”

He had not the power to read her thoughts; he did not want to know them; to-night every nerve in his body was taut with apprehension and dismay. But he tried to say, reassuringly. “Hans Olsa and I will both go with the man, as soon as the day breaks. If we only had something to make the coffin of! The few pieces of board that I’ve got here will hardly be enough.... Now let’s go to sleep. Be sure and call me if you need anything!”

He turned over resolutely, as if determined to sleep; but she noticed that he was a long time doing it.... I wonder what’s going through his mind? she thought. She was glad to have him awake, just the same; to-night there were strange things abroad in the room....

VI

The instant the woman had climbed down from the wagon and looked into Beret’s face a curtain seemed to be drawn over all the terrible experiences of the last few weeks. She entered a cozy room where things were as they should be; she felt the warm presence of folk who had dwelt here a long time. She took in the whole room at a glance—table and benches and stools; a fire was burning in a real stove; a kettle was boiling; wet clothes were hanging on a line by the stove, giving out a pleasant, familiar odor; and there actually stood two beds, made up with clean bedding! The sense of home, of people who lived in an orderly fashion, swept over her like a warm bath. A kind hand led her to one of the beds, and there she sank down. She mumbled a few words, but soon gave it up; everything about her seemed so wonderfully pleasant; she must keep quiet, so as not to disturb the dream. The hand that helped her had such a sympathetic touch; it took a rag, dipped it in lukewarm water, and wiped her face; then it loosened her clothes and even took off her shoes. But best of all, she could stretch her back again!

... Strange that she couldn’t remember what had been going on! Had she told the woman all that she ought to know? About the makeshift coffin, and the big stone beside which they would find him? And that she would have to take a blanket with her, for the nights were chilly and Paul had very little on—only a shirt that was worn and thin?... No, she couldn’t remember anything except that she had been able to lie down and stretch her back; the warmth of the room, and the knowledge that friendly people were near her, had overcome all her senses with a sweet languor. Her body lay as if fast asleep; but away back in the inner depths of her consciousness a wee eye peeped out, half open, and saw things....

She remained in the same position until three o’clock in the morning. But then the wee bit of an eye opened wider and her senses slowly began to revive; she realized that she was lying in a strange room, where a lamp burned with a dim light. Suddenly she remembered that she had arrived here last night—but Paul was not with her.... Too bad I am so forgetful! she thought. I must hurry now before Jakob sees me, because there’s no way of stopping him—he always wants to go on!... She was fully awake now; she sat up and buttoned her clothes, then slipped quietly out of bed.

For a moment she stood perfectly still, listening; she could hear the breathing of many people; bending suddenly over the bed, she snatched up And-Ongen. She held the child tenderly in her arms and put her cheek against the warm face.... We must be careful now! she thought. With quiet movements she wrapped her skirt about the sleeping child; glancing around the room to see if all was well, she glided out like a shadow; she did not dare to close the door behind her, lest it should make a noise.... “Here is our wagon!” she murmured. “I mustn’t let Jakob see me now; he doesn’t understand; he only wants to get on!” ... Clutching the child to her breast, she started on the run, taking a direction away from the house.

Beret was awakened by a voice calling to her from a great distance; it called loudly several times. What a shame they can’t let me alone in peace, to get a little rest! she thought, drowsily. I was up so late last night and I need the sleep badly!... But the voice kept calling so persistently that after a while she sat up in bed, her mind coming back to reality; she remembered that strangers had arrived last night, that another besides herself was in deep distress. Well, she had done her best to take care of her.... She turned her head to see how the other woman was resting.

... “Heaven have mercy!” ...

---

Beret leaped frantically out of bed; in a second she had reached the side of the other bed, but no one was there. She did not notice that And-Ongen was gone, too. A cold draught rushing through the room told her that the door stood open; she hurried over to it. She seemed to recall dimly that some one had recently gone out. Hadn’t she heard it in her sleep? Beret went through the door and stood in front of the house, but did not dare to make an outcry; she listened intently, then called in a low voice; getting no answer, she ran around the house, peering hither and thither, but the grey morning light disclosed nothing.

Running back into the house, she called her husband distractedly. “She’s gone! Get up! You must hurry!”

In an instant Per Hansa was up and had tumbled into his clothes. “Run over to Hans Olsa’s and tell him to come at once! Be as quick as you can! In the meanwhile I’ll search down by the creek.”

When they came out, the first light of day was creeping up the eastern sky; a slight fog floated along the creek; the morning air was crisp and cool. Per Hansa leaped up into the seat of the wagon and scanned the prairie in every direction.... What was that, over there? Wasn’t it a human being standing on the top of the hill? Could she have taken that direction?... He jumped down from the wagon, and rushed around to the other side of the house, called to Beret, and pointed up the hill. Instantly they both started out on the run.

The woman did not seem in the least surprised at their coming. When Per Hansa had almost reached her, he stopped stone dead. What, in God’s name, was she carrying in her arms? His face blanched with terror. “Come here!” he shouted. In a moment he had the child in his own arms.

And-Ongen was almost awake now and had begun to whimper; things were going on around her that she could not understand; she felt cold, and father had such a queer look on his face. Sleepily she cuddled up in the fold of his left arm, her cheek against his heart, though a hard hand which seemed to be pounding against a wall was trying to wake her up again; she would just let it go on pounding all it pleased. She had to sleep some more!... But now mother was here. Hurriedly she was transferred into her mother’s arms and squeezed almost to a pancake. She had to gasp for breath; nevertheless she snuggled into her arms as closely as she could, for she felt, oh, so sleepy!... But no peace here, either! Here, too, a hand pounded against a wall. Were they tearing down the house? And-Ongen was certainly at a loss to understand all this racket in the middle of the night.... But let ’em pound!

As Beret walked homeward, carrying the child, it seemed more precious to her than the very first time when she had held it in her arms; and she experienced a wonderful blessing. Upon this night the Lord had been with them: His mighty arm had shielded them from a fearful calamity.

The other woman was still obsessed by her own troubles; she kept on hunting up there on the hill.... Wouldn’t these people help her to find Paul? She had to find him at once—He would be cold with so little on.... Now they had taken that blessed child away from her; but she didn’t wonder—that man had a bad face. She felt afraid of him.... But no time to think of such things now; Jakob would soon be coming? She began muttering to herself: “Oh, why can’t I find the stone? What has become of it? Wasn’t it somewhere here?” ...

Per Hansa went up and spoke to her, his voice sounding hoarse and unnatural. “Come with me, now! To-day Hans Olsa and I are going to find your boy.” Taking her gently by the arm, he led her back to the house.... It’s very kind of him, to help find Paul, she thought, and followed willingly.

At breakfast she sat very quiet; she ate when they bade her, but never spoke. While they were making the coffin she sat looking on, wondering why they didn’t hurry faster with the work. Couldn’t they understand that Paul was cold? A little later a handsome woman entered the house—a woman with such a kind face, who lined the coffin inside with a white cloth.... Now, that is fine of her; that’s just what a woman with such a kind face would do!... She would have liked to talk to that woman; she had something very important to confide to her; but perhaps she had better not delay her in her work—the coffin had to be lined!...

As soon as the coffin was ready, Per Hansa and Hans Olsa, along with the stranger and his wife, left the settlement to hunt for the body of the dead boy. They took quite a stock of provisions with them. On this search they were gone four days; they criss-crossed the prairie for a long way to the east, and searched high and low; but when they returned the coffin was still empty.

VII

After the return from the search the strangers stayed one more day with them. The morning they were to leave it looked dark and threatening, and Per Hansa wouldn’t hear of their setting out; but along toward noon the sky cleared and the weather appeared more settled. The man, very anxious to be on his way, had everything loaded into the wagon, and as soon as the noon meal was over they were ready to go.

But before the man got on his way Per Hansa asked him where he intended to settle.

—Well, he wasn’t positive as to the exact place. It was over somewhere toward the James River—his neighbours had told him that.

—Did he know where the James River was? Per Hansa inquired further.

—Certainly he did! How could he ask such a foolish question. The river lay off there; all he needed to do was to steer straight west. After finding the river, of course he’d have to ask. But that part of it would be quite easy....

Per Hansa shuddered, and asked no more questions.

The woman had been quite calm since their return. She kept away from the others, muttering to herself and pottering over insignificant things, much like a child at play; but she was docile and inoffensive, and did what anyone told her. A short while before noon that day she took a notion that she must change her clothes; she got up from what she was doing, washed, and went to the wagon. When she came back she had dressed herself in her best; in a way she looked all right, but made a bizarre appearance because she had put so much on.... The man seemed fairly cheerful as they started; he talked a good deal, heaping many blessings upon Per Hansa.... If he could only find his neighbours, and Kari could only forget, things would be all right in a little while. Ya, it was a hard life, but——Well, God’s blessings on Per Hansa, and many thanks! And now he must be off!... His voice was just as husky and blurred as when he came.

The wagon started creaking; the man, short and stooping, led the way; the family piled into the wagon; the two cows jogged behind.... They laid their course due west.... Banks of heavy cloud were rolled up on the western horizon—huge, fantastic forms that seemed to await them in Heaven’s derision—though they might have been only the last stragglers of the spell of bad weather just past.