“No, this won’t do,” said Per Hansa, firmly. “We mustn’t go without a

plan. How are we going to tackle the business when we get there?”

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

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

“We’ve got to convince them that we are here with the full sanction of

law and justice,” said Hans Olsa, solemnly.

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

paper, Syvert?”

—No, Tönseten had thought of bringing the deed with him, but he feared

it would be too risky.... “They might take it away from me, and then

I’d be in a devil of a hole!” Tönseten’s face was so agitated that it

was a pity to look at.

But Per Hansa now took charge in a determined manner.... “Go in and

get that deed immediately, Syvert, so that we can get going!... Don’t

worry—we’ll see to it that no one molests you!”

And so they started. On the way over, Per Hansa explained the tactics

they were to follow; Henry Solum and Tönseten should be the spokesmen,

Sam the interpreter; Per Hansa took pains to impress upon Sam how

important it was that he translate correctly and rapidly, so that he

and Hans Olsa could keep abreast of proceedings.... “I think it will be

best for you, Henry, to cut loose; then you, Syvert, can put in your

oar when you think it’s needed. But don’t say much; and for Heaven’s

sake, be careful not to talk too fast; you know how quickly you get

short-winded. Remember we have the whole day ahead of us!”

Tönseten was highly displeased with this plan of Per Hansa’s, but he

lacked the strength to protest; matters had reached such a bad pass

already that they could hardly get worse....

It was plainly evident that the strangers had not overslept themselves

that morning; although the hour was still very early—full daylight

had barely come—all hands were busily at work when the five settlers

reached the camp. Two of the wagons had already been unloaded; a few

of the men were beginning to open up the others, while the rest of the

crew were putting up a large tent.

Per Hansa and Henry Solum walked ahead; then came Hans Olsa and Sam;

Tönseten, who at first had trotted along with the van, had now quietly

dropped back to the rear.

“Ah-ha!” observed Per Hansa to his companions. “They’re planning to

settle here, it seems!... Now, first you must ask to see their papers;

and then the stakes—insist on the _stakes_! Talk pleasantly to begin

with ... but it won’t do any harm to have a little sport with them, you

know. If they get ugly, just tease them on awhile.”

Their friendly greetings were returned in a churlish fashion; the

strangers didn’t seem anxious for company; each man went about his task

without paying the slightest attention to the visitors.

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

up long ago.

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

—Yes, the man who owned the land was standing right there—Henry pointed

to Hans Olsa.—That fellow; he had his papers along, too; and now

they must show their papers! If the land office had granted the same

quarter-section to two different men, a bad mistake had been made, but

it could easily be cleared up.

—Well, so they wanted to see the papers—was that the idea? Had they

brought their _spectacles_? A roar of laughter from the others greeted

this sally; but the man who had spoken wasn’t exactly laughing—he

held his head tilted on one side, his whole face screwed into an ugly

leer.... Sam translated as accurately as he could.

—Yes, Henry continued in a firmer and more imperative tone, they had

come to see both their papers and their stakes! Furthermore, there was

a court in Sioux Falls to settle such matters. They had been living

here all summer, breaking and planting, and hadn’t the least

thought of moving away.... Per Hansa sensed by the tone of Henry’s

voice that he was speaking well.

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

The man who had spoken with such an evil look a moment before, now

threw down his sledge hammer and came up to them.

—All right, boys! Since they wouldn’t take his word for it, he’d soon

show them in black and white! The papers had been packed away somewhere

and couldn’t be found just now. They would have to wait awhile to look

at them; but he would show them the stakes! They’d better come right

along with him now; he was in a devil of a hurry; he had both plowing

and building to do before the snow flew.

The stranger began to walk rapidly westward; Per Hansa was right at his

heels; as they hurried on, he breathed a prayer that the grass might

have sprung up freshly where he had done that little piece of work!...

The man seemed very certain about his direction. As they approached

Hans Olsa’s southwest corner, he slackened his pace and began pushing

the grass aside with his foot; Per Hansa had in the meanwhile

discovered with his eyes the exact spot where the stake had stood. He

all but laughed aloud; indeed, the rain and the sun of the good Lord

had done their work well; not a blade of grass seemed displaced, not a

broken stalk could be seen!... Besides, the man was mistaken about the

location of the spot; he had gone too far to the north and west before

he got down on his knees to scan the ground. He did a thorough job,

however; walked a few steps, knelt and examined the ground round about;

rose, went forward a little distance, got down on his knees again; but

all the while he was moving farther and farther away from the right

spot.... Per Hansa could hardly restrain himself; quiet chuckles were

beginning to rise in his throat; but he realized the danger in time,

and coughed them away.

The man searched and searched, back and forth, around and around; at

first he went at it hastily, as if finding the stake were the

easiest thing in the world; after a while he looked more slowly and

cautiously.... He was swearing like a trooper now; Per Hansa knew

enough English to understand most of it; he didn’t wonder that the

fellow felt moved to say a little something, under the circumstances....

At last the searcher got up and called loudly to the others.... A man

came over from the camp—a small man with reddish hair and a face as

freckled as a moor dotted with heather. They began to talk together in

low tones, from time to time casting angry glances at Hans Olsa; they

searched the whole region again, but found no trace of what they were

looking for.

Hans Olsa made strenuous efforts to take in what was happening; his

big, rough-hewn face, with the rugged features that ordinarily were

the picture of trust and honesty, had become strange to behold. He

gazed at these two men, hurrying here and there, trying to prove that

he was a scoundrel; he heard what Sam managed to translate of their

complimentary remarks about him; and it all seemed to awaken a new and

ominous force behind that impassive countenance; his big childlike

eyes blazed with astonishment, occasionally emitting sharp flashes; he

trembled slightly all over, though he was not aware of it.

Suddenly the two men abandoned the search, exchanged a few heated

remarks, turned away, and went back to the camp without saying another

word.... The five settlers followed.

“If they have no better luck with the papers,” said Per Hansa, “things

don’t look very bright for them!”

When the five reached the camp all ten of the strangers stood in a

group, talking angrily together. The women were nowhere in sight; as

the Nordlanders came up a burly, red-faced man stepped out from the

group, evidently their leader.... “God be with you, Henry.... Stand

right up to him and talk him down!” Per Hansa whispered to the Solum

boy.... It was clearly evident from the man’s face that a storm was

brewing; the fact that the big Irishman carried a sledge hammer in

his hand also attracted Per Hansa’s attention.

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

them.

—Right there, those two!—Henry pointed to Tönseten and Hans Olsa.—That

one—Tönseten—owned the quarter to the south; this one—Hans Olsa—the one

they now stood on.

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

—What was the matter with that fellow—was he deaf and dumb? He couldn’t

seem to get his mouth open! The man fingered his sledge hammer, and

glared around at Henry as if he would swallow him up.

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

English.

Sam was translating all this as best he could.

—Well, he could tell this dirty son-of-a-——that he was a thief and a

blackguard who had destroyed another man’s landmarks!

Sam translated rapidly, trembling with fear.

The Irishman came closer.

—If the whole damned gang of sneaking swine didn’t get off their land

right away, he’d give them something to start with!—Perhaps they’d

understand that language better!—The man swung his sledge hammer.

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

And so it did, only much faster than he or any of the others had

anticipated. When Hans Olsa saw the Irishman loom up before him in that

threatening attitude, he stared at him blankly, and stood for a moment

as if rooted to the ground. Then, all of a sudden, the upper part of

his body seemed to stretch; he stepped aside to evade the onslaught

... his left fist shot out and struck the man below the ear. There was

a crashing sound; with a loud groan the man sank in a heap and lay

perfectly still.

“Look out there, Henry!” cried Per Hansa.... “See that you get

your man, and I’ll get mine!... Wait a minute!”

The crowd had drawn back in front of one of the empty wagons; they

stood as if dazed. Hans Olsa stared at them wildly, took a step

forward, and stumbled over the heap on the ground. Regaining his

balance, he stopped, bent over, and plunged both hands into the inert

heap of flesh; the next instant he lifted it high in the air and flung

it bodily over the heads of the crowd, where it crashed into the wagon

standing behind. The wagon shook violently at the impact.... At the

same moment the group scattered and took to their heels southward

across the prairie. From one of the wagons, still covered by its

canvas, sounded a scream of terror; four women came tumbling out and

followed after the men.

Hans Olsa stood motionless, quivering in every muscle; he seemed like a

man half stunned.

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

“Goodness! Hans Olsa, that was beautiful! I don’t believe there’s

another man in the whole country who could do such a thing!... Now I

think we can safely go home; those folks aren’t likely to start any

more arguments about land!”

Hans Olsa was slowly regaining his natural poise; he stroked his face

and sighed deeply, like one recovering from an attack of delirium.

“I’m afraid I handled him pretty roughly; you’d better go and look at

him, Per Hansa.”

Per Hansa laughed confidently.... “No, leave him alone; just do as I

say, now! We’re going straight home, the whole lot of us.... Later in

the day I’ll take a little trip of my own out westward!”

They did as he bade them—though Tönseten could not be found anywhere;

he had vanished from the scene long before. In the latter part of the

afternoon Per Hansa returned to the camp of the Irish, to find out what

they were doing and how they were getting along; he took Store-Hans

with him as interpreter.... He found the whole camp moved to one

of the two quarter-sections lying west of Tönseten’s and Hans Olsa’s

land.

Per Hansa made frequent visits to them during the next few days; before

the third day was over, he had sold them more than ten dollars’ worth

of potatoes; he felt that he had struck up a profitable business.

* * * * *

The Irish finally settled on these two quarters west of them. They

returned east to Iowa just before the snow fell in the fall; but early

the following spring they came back with a large company, and started

their permanent settlement.

XI

On the morning when the men had gone out to parley with the Irish,

Kjersti was left all alone in the house. She felt gloomy and depressed;

there had been little or no sleep for either of them during the night;

Syvert had tossed to and fro in bed, telling and retelling the same

unhappy story—of the terrible folks who had come, of what they proposed

to do, and of the dreary future that awaited him and Hans Olsa, who

would now be forced to start everything anew.... Perhaps they had

better just move east again, and be done with it! He had lain twisting

and turning as he bemoaned their fate, his mood steadily growing

gloomier and gloomier.... This had kept up so long that it had driven

her nearly distracted; at last she had grown tired of his everlasting

whimpering and had told him so in plain words. As yet, she pointed out,

no one in the settlement had lost either life or limb; their papers

were all correct, law and justice ruled the land, and five strong men

were here on hand to look after things ... _four_, at any rate! And at

the worst, these were white people, thank the Lord!...

All this and more she had said to Syvert; every word of it had been

well meant and fully considered. But he had grown angry and had accused

her of not having a particle of common sense; then one word had

led to another. When the quarrel had finally worn itself out they had

found themselves at opposite ends of the earth, though lying side by

side in the same bed.

It was lonesome after the men had left that morning; Kjersti kept the

coffeepot on the stove, and laid on a couple of fresh sticks of wood;

he would be sure to look in for a drop when he came back!... Then she

put on Syvert’s old hat and went over to see Beret; she wanted to find

out what Per Hansa had told her when he came home the night before.

She got little information or comfort there, however.... First she

recounted most of what Tönseten had let out to her—that people had

arrived who claimed to own Hans Olsa’s land, as well as his own; that

these people wouldn’t listen to reason, so in all probability they

would have to seek the aid of the law.... Hadn’t Per Hansa told her

what had happened?

The boys were eating their breakfast; Beret sat over by the stove,

dressing the child; she made no answer to Kjersti; her face flushed but

she did not look up.

Ole, however, laughingly began to repeat some of the crazy stories his

father had told them the night before; Store-Hans remembered more of

them, and helped his brother out when his memory failed; the boys were

still highly excited, and kept on making such a noise and chatter that

Kjersti threw up her hands, begging them for the Lord’s sake to be

quiet!...

Beret listened in a rigid, frozen silence; she let the boys say

anything they wanted to, as if she lacked the strength to make them

stop.... One thought seemed to possess her whole being: he had

destroyed the stakes on other people’s land—and now he was going to

drive them away!... Good God! could this be possible?...

But at last the boys went so far that she had to interfere; they had

begun to laugh together in a coarse, bold way, and use evil words....

How truly it is said, she thought, that the seed which is sown in

secret bears fruit openly!... With the child in her arms, she got

up decisively, crossed the room, and flashed out at the boys; she was

very stern now, and scolded them harshly.

All the while Kjersti had been growing more disturbed; she had to find

consolation somewhere, and said, as if trying to bolster herself up:

“This can’t be anything to worry about! Why, we have been given this

quarter, and were the first to arrive here!”

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

“It seems they don’t intend to claim that, according to what Syvert

says.... I don’t know why!”

“Probably nothing can be done about it,” said Beret, quietly. “There

is no telling who may have been wandering around out here before we

came.... Many may have been here.”

This aimless talk only irritated Kjersti.

“I should think they would keep all that straightened out—the people

whose business it is to look after such things! If Syvert weren’t such

a milksop of a man, he would have gone after the sheriff at once....

Folks are put in prison for such deeds in America!”

Beret was silent for a moment; she bent over the child, while a deep

flush slowly covered her face; then she said in a low voice:

“The guilty will receive their punishment in the end!” ... As soon as

she had spoken, she got up and left the house abruptly; outside, she

put down the child, and stood like a stone image looking westward;

there she remained standing until Kjersti came out.

“I see them coming now,” she said, as the other appeared. At that,

Kjersti had to hurry off home, to get the breakfast for Syvert.

But Tönseten had returned long before the others; he was in bed when

she came in; though the fall day was mild, he had covered himself up

with the heavy blanket. At first she couldn’t get a word out of him;

she thought he must be ill, especially as he refused the coffee which

she poured out for him.... They can’t possibly have done him an injury?

she thought. She began plying him with questions, and kept on

until he finally admitted that they had come to blows out there on the

prairie. His words were thickly interspersed with moans and groans; she

began to fear in earnest that they had maltreated him; she felt him all

over, and demanded to know where he had been hit.

... “Where did they hit me?... Why talk!” He would say no more on the

subject. Then he gave a heavy sigh, adding: “It’s terrible!” ...

It was impossible for him to lie there long, however, without seeking

an outlet; he had to confide in some one, or he would burst; so he

finally told her his version of everything that had taken place that

morning. Some of the things he had seen; the rest were phantoms of

his own terror; he enlarged on certain points in his narrative very

fully—especially the awful language which the Irish had used, and the

effective replies which he had made to them. The general impression

given by his story was that in all probability he would have brought

the Irish around all right, if Per Hansa and Henry Solum hadn’t stirred

them up to fight; they had done just exactly the wrong things. And so

a big ruffian had rushed forward with a sledge hammer; and Hans Olsa

had gone into a mad rage and killed the man! From now on there would be

nothing but war and bloodshed; so they might as well pack up and move

right away! What a tragedy it was!...

Tönseten stayed safely in bed until late in the afternoon; then Kjersti

came and told him that the strangers had gone. He got up immediately to

see if it was true.... After that he seemed quite like himself again.

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

little settlement.

But whenever they were mentioned, Beret kept silent; she took no

part in the joy and relief of the others, for there were certain

circumstances connected with the affair which she couldn’t get out of

her mind; the longer she looked at them the uglier they appeared.

... He had destroyed the stakes; and worse than that, he had kept

it secret from everyone ... even from her!

... Shame had probably made him do that.... To be sure, she knew now

that the stakes had been put down unlawfully. But suppose it had been

otherwise—would he have done any different?... Was this the person in

whom she had believed no evil could dwell?... Had it always been thus

with him?

... Lives might have been lost; that, too, would have been his

fault.... Nevertheless, he seemed to feel nothing but joy over the

thing that he had done!...

... The explanation was plain; this desolation out here called forth

all that was evil in human nature. Land fully as good as theirs

extended round about them for thousands of miles; but then these people

had come, and had immediately wanted to seize what had already been

taken, thinking that it would be an easy matter, since they were the

stronger; then her own husband had used deceit and force to drive them

away; and now all was well!...

What would become of children who had to grow up in such an

atmosphere?... Their own children!... She listened to her boys gloating

over the incidents of the recent encounter—and her soul shuddered.

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

One afternoon a few days later the Irish came over to Per Hansa’s to

buy more potatoes; they stayed for some time and asked for information

on various matters; the boys translated the questions to their father

as well as they could; Per Hansa thought the Irish were excellent folk!

At both Tönseten’s and Hans Olsa’s they had noticed the strangers come

and go; in the evening they all went to Per Hansa’s to learn how the

Irish had behaved.

... “Finest people in the world!” Per Hansa assured them, pacing the

floor, uplifted by a surge of high spirits that somehow had to find an

outlet. No sooner did he sit down than he was up again; his sallies

of humour had a dashing quality that made them positively contagious.

Tönseten was in a continual gale of hilarity; Kjersti and Sörine,

who sat on the big bed with their knitting, had to let their work drop

at intervals to laugh at Syvert’s and Per Hansa’s extravagances. Beret

had just laid the child in the other bed, and was sitting beside her on

the edge; both boys were listening eagerly to the talk of their elders.

That evening Per Hansa told them all about the stakes; of how he

had found them, of what he had thought, and of the way he had

finally disposed of them. He related the story in a loud voice, with

boisterous, care-free zest; he made it sound exactly like a fairy

tale.... Many words of praise were bestowed on his wise action;

Tönseten was especially effusive—there was a neighbour for you! As

for Kjersti, she was moved almost to tears over such a man. What a

difference from that spineless jellyfish of a husband of hers!

“I’ll have to admit,” said Hans Olsa, soberly, “that you played a risky

game; and it was the hand of the Lord that kept you from telling. For

if they had been able to show that their stakes had ever been on my

land, we’d probably be building a new house now, somewhere out to the

westward. All our work this summer would have been for others.... My

thanks to you, Per Hansa!”

As Beret listened to the tale, she had to examine the narrator closely;

surely this couldn’t be Per Hansa! She remembered the morning when he

had brought the stakes home; how he had chopped them up and put them

furtively into the stove; and how his temper had taken hold of him at

that time.... This was an entirely different person!

... So it had come to this, that he no longer felt ashamed of his

sinful deed ... and that respectable folks sat around, rejoicing with

him over it!... She got up quickly, overcome by a sudden feeling of

suffocation; involuntarily, with out stopping to think, she said in a

level, biting tone:

“Where I come from, it was always considered a shameful sin to destroy

another man’s landmarks.... But here, I see, people are proud of such

doings!”

Her outburst shocked the others into silence—all but Per Hansa.

With a loud laugh he reached out clownishly, trying to catch her in his

arms.

“Oh, Beret, come on, now!... Just kick the dog that bites you—that’s

always the easiest way out, and the simplest, too!”

“I understand that perfectly well—though it makes poor Christianity....

But you were anything but confident, I noticed, that night when you

stood over by the block, chopping up the stakes.” She turned away from

him and seemed to speak to them all.... “Remember what the Book says:

‘Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour’s landmarks! And all the

people shall say, Amen.’ ... words like these we used to heed.... In my

opinion, we’d better take care lest we all turn into beasts and savages

out here!” ...

Per Hansa laughed again with unnecessary loudness; but in the midst of

the laugh he stopped, a wave of anger suddenly surging over him:

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

To this Beret made no reply; instead, she left the room abruptly.

Outside, it was pitch dark; she knew not where to turn nor what she

did; then she stumbled over the plow standing in the yard, and sank

inertly on the plow beam.... As she sat there the storm within her

slowly died away; deep melancholy came instead.... Long after the

others had gone she remained in the same position. Per Hansa had not

come out to look for her.... When she went in at last he had gone to

bed; she could not make out if he was sleeping, but she did not speak

to him. The boys also had gone to bed....

During the days that followed, words were few and distant between Per

Hansa and his wife.

V. Facing the Great Desolation

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.

II

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 Vossings[10]—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.

[10] People from the districts of Sogn and Voss, in Norway.

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.

[11] These are the first three Norwegian settlements in the Northwest.

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 Hallings[12]; 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.

[12] People from Hallingdal, in Norway.

—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:

♦ “runing” replaced with “running”

“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!”