which there were two beds, while a kind-hearted servant carried
weary little Karen to her own apartment. Truls, out of gratitude
to Annibale, offered to watch over the bear; but, unhappily, his
gratitude was not lively enough to keep him awake, though he
struggled bravely to keep his eyes open. Toward midnight his head
sank slowly down upon Garibaldi’s back, and when the daylight
peeped in through the dusty window-panes he was yet sleeping
peacefully. The sunbeams crept, inch by inch, across the floor,
until they lighted on Truls’ chin, then climbed up to his nose and
reached his eyes. Then he awoke with a pang, sprang up, and stared
confusedly about him.
Suddenly his eyes fell upon Garibaldi, who lay immovable at the
foot of the bed; he stooped down and touched him. The poor bear
was stone cold! It had died quietly in the night. Truls, with
a dim notion that Garibaldi’s death was due to his own lack of
watchfulness, made haste to rouse his friend and explain to him,
with tears of grief and remorse, that he had, without meaning
to do it, used Garibaldi as a pillow, and that the poor animal
had probably died in consequence. Annibale, however, showed no
disposition to reproach Truls, but, leaping out of bed with a
frightened face, flung himself down over the bear, hugged him, and
wept over him, overwhelming him with caresses and endearing names.
But it was all in vain. Garibaldi was, and remained, dead. He had
caught a violent cold during the night of the storm at sea, from
which he had never recovered.
Although it was yet early in the morning, all the city seemed to be
awake and to be surging and roaring outside of the windows like
a storm-beaten sea. Stage-coaches, carriages, and enormous drays
laden with bales and barrels and boxes, were pouring in steady
streams up and down the street; people of all sorts and conditions
were hurrying hither and thither; and out in the harbor, but a
stone’s throw distant, there was a forest of masts, and big and
little steam-boats rushed shrieking in all directions. It seemed
like tempting Providence to venture out into this wild turmoil, and
Truls implored Annibale not to risk it, when he perceived that the
latter was bent upon some such dangerous expedition.
Annibale, however, had seen great cities before, and gave no heed
to his companion’s fear, but tore himself away, promising to return
before noon. With a painful fascination Truls stood watching him
from the window, following his lithe and dexterous motions as he
wound himself through the crowd and dodged the huge wheels and
wagon-poles, as they seemed on the point of knocking him down. When
at last the Savoyard vanished around a street-corner, and Truls
was about to relapse into his sad meditations, the kind-hearted
servant-girl caused a sensation by entering with Karen and a tray,
upon which were three pieces of bread and three cups of coffee.
Truls then awakened his brother, who had slept soundly through
the recent excitement, and the three had quite a pleasant meal,
considering their forlorn condition.
They covered Garibaldi with a blanket. He had had a hard life of
it on board the steamer, and had suffered much. Now his career
was finished. At least, so Alf and Truls supposed, until a very
extraordinary thing happened.
They had finished their breakfast some little time, when the door
opened and Annibale entered with a little, smoky, and shrivelled-up
Italian. He was Annibale’s uncle; his name was Giacomo Bianchi, and
by trade he was a tobacconist. When he talked he used his arms,
legs, eyes, and mouth, all with equal vigor. Fiddle-John’s children
stood and gazed at him in undisguised wonder; they had never in all
their lives seen anything so lively.
“_Ecco!_” he cried, pointing excitedly first to the dead bear and
then to Truls; “the fit is perfect. He is of the same height, and
will do perfectly well. If he has ordinary intelligence, and not
too much of it, he can act the bear as well as if he were born
one. I will prepare the skin for you, and stuff it just enough to
fit his figure. Then you can make money like the sands of the sea.
I have a small hand-organ at home, and a tambourine which that
vagabond Gregorio left me for a debt. You give me half of what
you earn, and I will lend you all these things. You will become a
rich man before you die. The bigger boy can play the hand-organ,
the little girl can strike the tambourine, and you yourself lead
the bear and make him dance. Behold, my son, your fortune is made.
_Ecco_, I have spoken!”
Giacomo’s dark eyes flashed with enthusiasm as he unfolded this
glorious scheme, and he flourished his stick so violently in the
direction of Karen that she grew frightened and began to cry. Her
brothers, too, viewed the excitable little man with suspicion, and
listened in no friendly spirit to his unintelligible talk. To their
guileless Norse minds his gestures seemed at first to indicate
insanity, but after awhile they concluded that, for some reason, he
was angry at their sister. Then they clinched their fists in their
pockets and made themselves ready to pounce upon him, the very
moment he ventured to touch her.
His apparent wrath suddenly left him, however, and he came up to
shake hands with each of them, smiling, and nodding his shaggy
head with extreme affability. Still they could not quite conquer
their distrust of him, and it required a long and lively pantomime
to induce them to accompany him to his own dwelling. At last they
yielded, because they knew of nothing else to do. Garibaldi was put
into a bag, and Giacomo and the boys, taking each a corner, carried
him easily. First they went to Castle Garden to inquire for their
father, but there was no one there who knew anything about him.
Another steamer had just come in with over eleven hundred Polish
Jews, and the officials were too busy to give heed to the questions
of the strange-looking boys who talked a strange-sounding language.
All their attempts to get possession of the baggage were also
unavailing; and with heavy hearts they plodded along together with
the Italian and Garibaldi, winding their way through a labyrinth of
dirty streets, until they reached a little, ill-smelling bird-shop
in Canal Street.
Here, too, there was a bedlam of noise, and the young Norsemen
remained standing in the middle of the floor, staring about
them in helpless bewilderment. Two great blue-and-yellow macaws
were shrieking overhead, an ancient and wise-looking cockatoo
was apparently scolding them for their undignified behavior, and
uncounted paroquets, pigeons, and canary-birds were chirping,
cooing, and screaming in a confused chorus which would have racked
the nerves of a mummy. The barking of a number of dogs, which
seemed to object to the limited area of their cages, added to the
uproar; and it was a great relief to the whole juvenile company
when Giacomo invited them up-stairs, where he had his own personal
domicile.
The bird-store, according to Annibale’s assertion, was a source
of enormous revenue, but belonged to his other uncle, Matteo,
who was a citizen of much weight and influence in the Italian
colony. This great man, however, it was understood, had more
important matters to attend to, and left the business in charge of
his humbler brother, Giacomo. A vague impression of these facts
Annibale had managed to communicate to his friends, in spite of
the linguistic difficulties under which he labored; and the Norse
boys, who during the two weeks on the steamship had learned the
Italian names for many common things and ideas, were pleasantly
surprised at the readiness with which they comprehended the mixture
of signs, gestures, and words which constituted Annibale’s medium
of communication.
Uncle Giacomo’s rooms proved much more agreeable than the
shop below. The noise of the birds penetrated the floor only
as a subdued confusion of sounds, and did not interfere with
conversation. On a little low table at the window there was a
multitude of small, sharp tools, and an array of bottles which
emitted strong but not unpleasant odors. Some of them had feathers
sticking through their stoppers, and others were labelled “Poison”
in big red letters. About the walls there were rows of shelves,
upon which stood bright-colored birds, perching upon twigs, as if
on the point of taking flight, owls with big yellow eyes and a
dignified sullenness of expression, hawks with wings outspread,
swooping down upon unseen, unsuspicious rabbits; and, besides,
there were little pet dogs and birds, whose skins had been
preserved by the taxidermist’s art for sorrowing owners.
All these objects the boys and Karen found highly entertaining, and
Uncle Giacomo, who was bent upon making a good impression, allowed
them to take down and examine anything that struck their fancy. The
work of skinning poor Garibaldi also served to occupy their minds,
and thus the forenoon passed rapidly until it was time to sit
down to dinner. They did not sit down, however, for their dinner
consisted only of bread and milk, and that could be eaten just as
well standing. In the afternoon they were allowed to fetch up some
rabbits and guinea-pigs from the store, and when they had played
with them for a couple of hours, Uncle Giacomo brought them a green
parrot that could talk and scold in both English and Italian.
Neither Alf nor Truls nor Karen understood its talk; but, for all
that, it entertained them, and served for a time to keep their
minds from dwelling on their misfortunes. They scarcely knew what
was to become of them; the world seemed so vast and so pitiless,
and they themselves such a very small part of it. They thought with
flutterings of hope and fear of their father, and determined never
to abandon their search for him until they should find him.
Their fate seemed strange and incomprehensible. But a few weeks ago
they were living happily in their quiet Norse home, in the little
cottage under the mountain-wall. Now they were flung out, helpless
and alone, into a huge whirlpool of foreign life; their mother,
whom they had loved more than anyone else in the whole world, was
dead, and their father was wandering about, no one knew where,
vainly seeking them, perhaps, and not knowing whither to turn.
Indeed, much can happen in two short weeks. If they had but known
what was to befall them before they left their happy home! Oh, if
they had but known!
V.
Nearly a week passed before Garibaldi’s skin was properly padded
and prepared for the reception of its new occupant; but then it
fitted to perfection, and was as soft and flexible as an overcoat.
Truls put it on with perfect ease, and breathed as freely through
Garibaldi’s nose as if it had been his own. Fortunately the bear
had been of the shaggy, long-haired kind, and when the opening was
laced together with fine silk cords the joining was completely
hidden by the fur. The children had repeated rehearsals in Uncle
Giacomo’s room; and they all agreed that Truls made a very
respectable bear. He could walk on his hind-legs beautifully, he
could salute with his right fore-paw, and he could even nod with
his head in a very intelligent fashion. In fact, there was a danger
that he might be too intelligent.
“Now, do remember,” Alf would cry out to him, “a bear cannot blow
his nose. He may be allowed to sneeze, and even to cough; but he
must not be too frisky and intelligent. And remember, that if you
laugh or make any sound whatever, the game is up and we are ruined.
Uncle Giacomo only keeps us to make money with us, but he is not
unkind, and as long as we don’t starve, we ought to be thankful.
It all depends upon you, whether we shall have a home or be thrown
into the streets.”
It was with a great flutter of excitement that the Savoyard and his
Norse friends started out early one Monday morning in the middle
of May. Alf was carrying the hand-organ, Karen the tambourine, and
Annibale was leading the make-believe bear by the same iron chain
which had regulated the movements of Garibaldi. They were about
to open their first performance on the sidewalk at the corner of
Broadway and Canal Street, but two policemen were immediately on
hand and sternly commanded them to “trot.” Trot they accordingly
did; but the sidewalks were everywhere so crowded that they seemed
in danger of being knocked down, in case they should offer to
obstruct the hurrying stream of humanity.
It was not until they reached the broad steps of the Sub-Treasury
in Wall Street that they summoned courage to make a second stop;
and Truls was by that time so tired of the unnatural four-footed
gait that he rose, without invitation, and began to promenade in a
very unbearlike fashion. Presently Alf’s hand-organ began to wail a
very sad air from “Il Trovatore,” and Karen struck the tambourine
with a vigor which threatened to ruin both her knuckles and the
drum-skin. A number of newsboys and bootblacks instantly scampered
up to witness this attractive entertainment, and half a dozen
brokers and bank-messengers also paused to view the antics of the
little bear. Annibale shouted and swung his whip, and the animal
saluted and danced slowly and clumsily (as he had been commanded),
and at the end of five minutes quite a shower of pennies dropped
into the Savoyard’s hat. The crowd increased; the newsboys screamed
with delight, and scrambled up the steps, pell-mell, whenever the
bear approached them. Truls began to enjoy the fun, and chuckled
to himself at the thought that he could chase a whole flock of big
boys who, if they had known what sort of a creature he was, would
in all likelihood have chased him. This reflection made him every
moment bolder, and he would have been in danger of overstepping his
part altogether if Alf had not screamed to him in Norwegian:
“Now, take care, smarticat, don’t be too intelligent!”
Nevertheless, just as he was resolving to heed this advice, a
little ragged bootblack, while trying to back away from him, fell,
turned a dexterous somersault, and came down on his feet on the
sidewalk at the foot of the stairs. The sight was so comical that
Truls lost control of himself and burst out laughing; but in the
same instant his brother and sister were at his side, and made
so terrific a noise with their respective instruments that his
laughter was completely drowned in the din. Someone, however, must
have noticed his mirth; for there was a shriek of merriment among
the boys, and one of them cried out:
“Did you hear that? The bear is a-laughin’! He is a jolly old coon,
that bear is.”
“No, he was only a-yawnin’!” shouted another boy. “He is a queer old
party, and he knows lots of tricks.”
“Them b’ars is a mighty funny lot,” the first boy rejoined. “I once
seed one at the circus; he could ride bare-back and drink beer.”
“I once knowed one as could smoke cigars and kiss his boss,”
shouted number two, determined not to be outdone.
All these comments escaped the bear’s brother, but Annibale caught
a suspicion that something was wrong. He hastily gathered in the
second shower of pennies, and made a sign to his friends to stop
the entertainment. They made their way as quickly as they could
down to the water-front, and thence to the Battery Park, where
there was plenty of room for another exhibition. The newsboys
and bootblacks followed them for a couple of blocks, but seeing
that they had no intention of stopping, gradually dropped behind
and returned to their accustomed haunts. Alf and Truls heaved
a sigh of relief when the last of their importunate followers
had disappeared; and it was with a lighter heart that they took
their station under the trees of the park and commenced the same
programme which had been so successful in Wall Street.
Their audience was here even larger than it had been at their
first performance, but it was not nearly so profitable; for the
foreign emigrants and corner-loafers who abound in this locality
had probably no money to spare, or they preferred to have their
entertainment gratis. Hardly half a dozen pennies dropped into
Annibale’s hat, in spite of his repeated invitations to contribute.
It was obvious that they had hit upon a bad locality, where art was
not properly appreciated.
As Karen’s knuckles were by this time quite numb, it was agreed
that Annibale should take his turn at the hand-organ and give Alf
a chance to distinguish himself at the tambourine. They had just
completed this arrangement, and were strolling rather aimlessly
past Castle Garden toward the Coney Island Pier, when they saw
a dense crowd gathered at the entrance of the great immigration
depot. Curiosity prompted them to discover the cause of the
demonstration, and as everyone fell aside to make room for the
bear, they had no difficulty in reaching the open space in the
centre of the throng.
What was their horror when they suddenly found themselves
confronted with a real bear--a huge black beast which was dancing
slowly upon his hind-legs, and every now and then, with an angry
yawn, showing an array of terrible teeth! They wished themselves
well out of sight again, and strove with all their might to avoid
attracting attention. But instead of that, they found themselves
pushed right into the middle of the ring. And the moment the huge
bear spied a comrade, down he dropped on all-fours and insisted
upon making his acquaintance. With a wild scream which was anything
but bearlike, Truls rose up and rushed toward his brother Alf,
flinging his paws about his neck. The keeper of the big bear gave
him a cut with his whip, but he still strained at his chain and
gave forth angry growls. The people fled in all directions, and Alf
grabbed his disguised brother in his arms and ran as fast as he
could carry him. The others followed; but before they had overtaken
him he was stopped by a policeman, who inquired whether he had a
license. The boy stared in abject terror at the officer of the law.
“Pl-please, sir,” he stammered, imploringly, in his native tongue,
“don’t hurt my brother! He isn’t a bear at all, if you please, sir;
and--and--I am a harmless lad who--who--arrived from Norway the
other day, and--and--never did mortal thing any harm as long as I
lived, sir!”
“Don’t jabber yer Dutch at me, ye young scalawag!” the policeman
replied, seizing the boy by the arm and shaking him. “Ef it is an
honest loivelihood ye’re afther, why don’t ye drap that poor dumb
cr’atur’ and foind some dacent imployment, begorra?”
Alf was altogether too frightened to make any answer to this
suggestion, of which, moreover, he understood not a word. He only
gazed with his large blue eyes at the policeman, and moved his
lips nervously, without being able to utter a sound.
“Pl--please, sir,” he faltered, after several vain attempts to
speak, “please let me go.” And Truls, completely forgetting his
disguise, raised two hairy paws imploringly toward the officer and
begged tearfully.
“Please, sir, do let my brother go!”
The policeman’s face underwent a sudden and startling change. His
eyes nearly popped out of his head, his jaw dropped down on his
chest, and the veins on his forehead swelled. “I’ll be blowed,” he
cried in breathless amazement, “ef the dumb cratur’ ain’t a-talkin’
Dutch!”
He stooped for a minute, with his hands resting upon his knees,
and stared with a perplexed expression at the supposed bear; then
the situation began to dawn upon him, and he burst out into a
tremendous laugh.
“Oh, it is a foine bear ye be, sonny!” he exclaimed, lifting the
boy-bear unceremoniously on his arm, and grabbing hold of Alf’s
collar with his disengaged hand. “A smart young un ye be, be
jabers! It is an alderman ye will be before ye doi--if ye only vote
the roight ticket. ’Tis a shame, it is, ye don’t talk a Christian
language, sech as a gintleman can understand.”
He was moving up Greenwich Street, talking in this humorous strain,
half to himself and half to his prisoners, whom he was dragging
reluctantly along, when his progress was suddenly arrested by a
little girl who became unaccountably entangled in his legs.
[Illustration: IN BATTERY PARK.]
“Mr. Policeman,” the child cried, in the same unintelligible
tongue, gazing up with a pale and excited face at the tall
officer, “please don’t hurt my brothers. And won’t you please take
me along, too? I have been bad, too, Mr. Policeman--much badder
than Truls.”
“Why, how-de-do, sis!” the officer asked, with a broad grin. “Is it
the bear ye be, did ye say, as lent yer skin to this little chap?
Ah, be jabers! now I begin to take in yer capers. It is a moighty
mixed-up lot ye be, and up to no end of thricks. But jest ye wait
till his honor gits hold on ye, and he will know how to git each
one of ye back into his roight skin.”
This sinister allusion was lost, however, on the three culprits,
and even if they had understood it, it would probably not have
impressed them greatly. Their life had been so exciting since they
left their quiet Norse valley, that they had almost ceased to be
surprised at anything that might happen to them. Alf and Karen
plodded on wearily at the policeman’s side, holding on to the tails
of his coat, and showing no desire to part company with him; and
Truls, who was wellnigh exhausted by the labors and excitement
of the day, was only too glad to be able to rest his shaggy head
on the officer’s shoulders, and to embrace his neck with his two
hairy paws. The officer, somehow, seemed to enjoy the situation;
for he laughed and chuckled incessantly to himself, as if he were
contemplating some delightful plan which promised a great deal of
amusement. He shook his club good-naturedly at the crowd which
followed him, and pushed his way onward, until he reached a large
brick building, over the door of which was carved, in big Roman
letters, “Police Precinct, No. ----.” Here he entered with his
prisoners, and after having made an entry in a book, consigned them
to a large, bare, and dreary-looking room, where a few miserable
people were reposing in various attitudes upon the floor.
The two Norse boys, who vaguely understood that this was some
kind of a prison, looked with horror upon the ragged and untidy
occupants of the room, and withdrew with their sister into the
remotest corner they could find, so as to escape observation. Here
they held a consultation, glancing all the while fearfully about
them, and lowering their voices to a whisper.
“Truls,” said Alf, raising his guileless eyes to those of his
younger but braver-hearted brother, “what do you think will become
of us? do you think we shall have to stay long in this dreadful
place?”
“Oh, no, you sillibub!” replied the ursine Truls, with well-feigned
cheerfulness; “we will be let out before night; and anyhow, I
know what I am going to do. You remember that handsome American
gentleman on board the steamboat, whom I wanted to fight because I
thought he was making fun of father?”
“Yes, I remember,” said Alf.
“Well, he gave me his card, which I gave you to keep in your
pocket-book; and he made me promise that if ever I needed a friend,
I should send for him. There is an address on the card, and I
shouldn’t wonder if he is a great man; and then everybody will be
sure to know him.”
“Oh, Truls!” his brother exclaimed, admiringly; “you are always so
bright and so clever; and I have the card here; and I’ll not lose
it. But don’t you think you had better take off your bear-skin, so
that the judge may see you aren’t a bear, but a little boy?”
“I have thought of that,” Truls rejoined, earnestly; “but the
trouble is I haven’t anything else to put on. So I shall have to go
to the judge as I am, and I guess he won’t be so very mad, when I
tell him I haven’t got nothing else under.”