Then he began to stamp up and down along the wall . . . to beat his

arms ... to run. The pricking seemed to be going away, he thought ...

everything seemed better . . . yet he wasn’t certain of anything at

all. His thoughts were working somewhere outside himself; they stood

and stared at him through the whirling drift.... “It is certain,” said

something away there in the dark, “that if you stay here to-night,

you’re done for.... If the wind continues steady, you ought to be able

to find Henry’s fence—you know where that takes off in the direction

of Per Hansa’s—you follow it from there on, and then you come to your

own—that runs right to the cattle barn at home. You might as well

freeze to death out there, as here.” ... “Well, well,” he assented, as

if tired of arguing. “That may be right—it may be.” ... Pulling himself

together, he went out of the shed and started off before the wind....

IV

That night Hans Olsa received his death blow. He stumbled into his own

house in the small hours of the morning; he was then so exhausted that

he could not get his clothes off unaided.... Sörine had been up all

night, well-nigh crazed with fear; twice she had started to go to Per

Hansa’s for help, but the storm had driven her back each time; then

she had lighted a candle and placed it in the window, in hopes of its

doing some good. She had fed the fire with desperate resolution, trying

to face the fact that now the worst had happened and there was

nothing to do about it, for Fate is inexorable.

As soon as she had got him into the house she began tending him with

frantic haste. She made him drink several bowls of hot milk with black

pepper in it; then she put him to bed, warmed the clothes and tucked

them around him. But he lay there shivering, in spite of all she did,

so that the whole bed shook. Later in the day he began to cough—a dry,

rasping cough, it was, that seemed to grate on something hard as iron

down in the bottom of his chest. During the night that followed he

was delirious; he wanted to get up all the time and go north to look

after the cattle. Sörine had all she could do to quiet him and keep him

in bed. When the cough came from deep down in his lungs it seemed to

scrape off flecks of rust that stuck in his throat and threatened to

choke him.

Day came at last, after a long, dismal night; and then he seemed

better. Between the coughing spells he talked calmly to his wife,

telling her what she and Sofie had to do about the chores. He felt

condemned that they should be left to do all the outside work alone. As

soon as they had gone out, he tried to get out of bed and put on his

clothes; but the chills grew so violent that he could not stand on his

feet. He fell back on the bed....

For two full days the blizzard raged. During the forenoon of the third

day the snow ceased falling and the storm abated; but the air was still

grey and bitterly cold. As soon as Hans Olsa saw that the storm was

really letting up, he told Sofie to put on her skis and go over to get

Per Hansa. “This will never do,” he said to his wife. “For three days

and nights you haven’t been out of your clothes. I may be a long time

in getting over the cough.” ... He wanted to say more, but the words

were lost in a paroxysm of coughing.

Per Hansa and the oldest two boys were making hay twists out in the

barn when Sofie brought the first news that her father had been out in

the storm the other night and was now very sick. Per Hansa immediately

dropped his work and went back with her. Sörine looked worn out and

very much worried. She turned her head aside when she spoke to

him, saying that things didn’t look very well. Then she went to the

stove, put her apron up to her eyes, and murmured again—things didn’t

look very well! But Per Hansa’s coming cheered her up a little and even

seemed to take away some of her anxiety. In a moment her old buoyancy

had come back; she dried her eyes and asked him to follow her into the

bedroom.

In a hut on the border of the Irish settlement lived an old woman who

was so queer at times that she was called “Crazy Bridget.” In fact,

she had brought this name with her to the settlement; Tönseten long

ago had picked it up from her countrymen, and had translated it into

Norwegian—he made it _Kræsi-Brita_. All the Norwegians called her that

now. This Bridget had come west with her son, had taken the quarter

of land next to his, and had herself put up the hut in which she now

lived. Very little was known about her except that she was extremely

religious, and that as a rule she spoke a language which none of the

Norwegians had ever heard before, and which, apparently, few of her own

people understood. She seldom visited the other settlers of her own

accord; but many—especially those of her own race—came often to her

for help in time of sickness. She had a great store of old-fashioned

remedies, both for humans and for beasts, and she gave of them freely,

without pay. Most of the Norwegians had consulted her at one time or

another, in spite of the fact that they went on saying she was only a

fraud. And though they said it, they all had to admit, when it came

down to known cases, that she had a remarkable way with sick folks.

When Per Hansa saw how seriously ill his neighbour was he went out into

the kitchen and said to Sörine that some one must go and fetch Bridget.

They ought not to scorn her powers at a time like this—she might be

able to help; at least, they must try every chance that offered.

Suiting the action to the word, he went for her himself. A little

later the old woman came trudging over on snowshoes, carrying an

odd-looking bag on her back. She warmed herself at the fire, went into

the bedroom, and looked at the suffering man. Then she asked for a

kettle and opened her bag; first she took out four large onions; these

she cut into tiny bits and dumped into the kettle; then she opened

a bottle of vile-smelling stuff and poured some of its contents on

the onions; at last she set the kettle over the fire and let it boil

awhile. From this mixture she made thick poultices, which she put on

Hans Olsa’s back and chest; but before she put them on she took out

of her pocket a small rusty crucifix, mumbled some words over it, and

stuck it into the poultice which was to lie on his chest. As she fixed

these applications she made the sign of the cross over his chest and

back. All the while she was muttering strange words, in a language they

did not understand—whether a prayer or something worse they could not

say. These poultices were to be kept on for twelve hours, she explained

in broken English, and hot cloths must be put over them to keep them

warm. When the twelve hours were gone they must make a fresh poultice.

She instructed Sörine how to make it—with onions, a cup of linseed oil,

one cup of fresh milk, and some flour. They must take good care of

the crucifix, she said; she would hold them responsible for it. After

giving some more good advice, she wished them God’s blessing, put her

bag on her back, fastened her snowshoes, and trudged away.

Both Sörine and Hans Olsa had faith in the woman and were glad that she

had come.... One must try such remedies as one had....

Per Hansa was very busy that forenoon; there was much to do at his

own place, and more at his neighbour’s. He had hurried home from Hans

Olsa’s after going for Bridget; had called the two boys, and taken them

with him at once to look after the cattle up north. Before he left he

told Beret briefly how things were at their neighbour’s, and asked her

to arrange her own work so that she could go over toward evening and

stay there for the night. It might be late before he could get back....

At supper time Tönseten called at Per Hansa’s as he was going

by. He was on his way home from the east part of the settlement, and

just wanted to drop in to see how they were after the storm. When he

heard the news about Hans Olsa—how he had come down with such a bad

cough, that it was doubtful if he would pull through—he decided to go

over at once and tell Sörine what to do. If anyone in these parts knew

all there was to know about a cough, he was the man! Tönseten was in

an extraordinarily bright humour that evening. He told Per Hansa not

to worry, if it was nothing worse than the cough; put on his skis and

started off for Hans Olsa’s.

Out in the bedroom lay the sick man, propped up by pillows; Little-Hans

sat at the foot of the bed with his playthings; Sörine and the daughter

had finished the chores and were now working in the kitchen; Beret sat

in the bedroom, taking care that the poultices were kept hot and that

the patient’s shoulders were covered up warm; she had her knitting in

her hands and was singing a hymn when Tönseten came in.

On entering the room Tönseten greeted them both cheerily; but instantly

he began to feel ill at ease.... No need, surely, to begin the funeral

before the man was in the coffin!... He managed to hold his tongue,

however. Since Beret had recovered, he couldn’t stand her. She had

become so pious that if a fellow made the most innocent remark, she was

sure to preach at him. And never a drop of whisky would she tolerate,

either for rheumatism or for cough.... One ought to have some sense,

even if one was going to be religious. Surely he who was both _klokker_

and deacon ought to be privileged to talk a little sense into her!...

But such was the respect which she commanded, that even though he had

thought about it for two years, he had never dared to say the first

word.

To-night Tönseten could think only of how serious things looked for

Hans Olsa; he went straight to the bedside, and said in a tone of

voice that was meant to be cheerful: “I’m surprised at you, Hans

Olsa!... What do you mean by lying here like this, _you slugabed_?

And here you have the finest ski-slide the Lord ever made, clear from

your housetop all the way down to my place!” ... The sick man’s face

brightened as he looked into Tönseten’s merry eyes; a breath of fresh

air flurried from out the red, icicled beard; the whole face bending

above him radiated good humour.... “I’m glad you came, Syvert,” said

Hans Olsa in a faint voice.

Tönseten now began to feel that the right atmosphere had been

established; he hummed a tune, took a chair, and sat down beside the

bed. Without further prelude, he started to relate what had happened

to him that day.... Yesterday morning, when Kjersti had tried to make

the fire, the stove wouldn’t draw and the room had filled with smoke;

not being able to manage the thing, she had come and roused him. He had

got up, had dressed, and had then tried to open the door, only to find

that the whole house was snowed under; from the hillside to the creek

stretched one huge, solid drift, and the chimney itself was packed full

of snow....

Well, he had succeeded after a while in getting a hole through, so that

at last they could have their morning coffee. It was simply terrible

how much snow there was down his way. Yesterday he had been busy all

day, making steps in the snow down to the house; these had packed

fairly well during the day, but to-day they were as solid as ice....

And this morning when Kjersti had come along carrying a pail of water,

she had been so unfortunate as to slip on the top step—“ha-ha!” ...

She had thrown the pail into the air, her feet had shot out from under

her, and she hadn’t stopped until she’d landed on her backsides in

the middle of the floor!... “ha-ha-ha!” ... There she sat.... “What

in Heaven’s name are you up to, Kjersti?” he had said, when he saw

that she hadn’t hurt herself very much; and then he naturally had gone

off into a fit of laughing. This had infuriated Kjersti; and when he

saw that he’d tried his damnedest to stop—but for the life of him he

couldn’t! He’d laughed and laughed, and the more he’d laughed the worse

things had got; until finally she had lost her temper completely

and just driven him out of the house....

Well, this is what he had done next; he had put on his skis and gone

over east in the settlement—had spent the whole afternoon there—just

to visit around and see how folks were getting along. At last he had

dropped in to see Johannes Mörstad and his wife Josie—Josie was about

to have her fifth child, you know, and was expecting it any day now;

Tönseten felt compelled to keep himself posted on the intimate progress

of that family. So he had sat there gossiping with them a long while,

and had just been telling them what had happened at home that day, when

there!—he’d burst out laughing again, and laughed so hard that they all

had to join in. And this had thrown Johannes into such a good humour

that he had hunted up a bottle which he was saving for the coming

event, and had given Tönseten a drop or two—perhaps it was three—well,

it may have been four—if one must be accurate.... All this about the

stove, and the steps, and Kjersti, and about how he had had to take to

his heels in order to find peace, he related in epic detail to Hans

Olsa—there seemed to be need of something jolly here!... But the number

of drinks he really had had, he didn’t fully reveal.

There was something so infectious about Tönseten’s good spirits that

they almost coaxed Hans Olsa into a brighter mood. But then a spell of

coughing came on; he choked it back and asked if Kjersti hadn’t hurt

herself pretty badly?

“Oh no, boys, never you fear!” hiccoughed Tönseten, wiping his eyes

with the backs of his hands. “She’s all right, except for a few

scratches here and there in the bottom—_here_ and _there_—but they’ll

heal up in a little while.... Everything grows so big and fat around

here, you know!” ... Tönseten went off into such another gale of

laughter that he almost fell out of his chair.

“Well, well!” ... he said as soon as he could control himself, getting

up to leave. “To-morrow I shall bring Kjersti over here with me. You

just wait—we’ll get the cough boiled out of that chest of yours!

Kjersti knows how to treat a cough, I can tell you!” ...

V

Beret had stopped her singing abruptly when Tönseten came in. As he

rambled on she sat and watched his face—something made her look at him

in spite of herself. She listened to his half-maudlin laughter—and it

seemed to her she never had realized before how disgusting his laugh

was. His breath smelled of whisky. At first she felt furious with him

and wanted to order him out of the house. Didn’t the fool know that it

was unseemly to talk that way at a deathbed.... But she only took her

chair and moved farther off, as a child draws away from one of whom it

is afraid.

When Tönseten had at last gone the air of the room seemed close and

foul to Beret; filth and pollution had entered in where all should have

been the serenity and holiness of a Sabbath. In a vision of startling

clearness she saw how evil besmirches all life. What a degraded thing

man’s life on earth had become! Here was one neighbour calling on

another at the point of death; if ever there was need of godly speech,

it was at this moment; and yet there had been nothing but vileness

in his mouth! She felt a physical desire to cleanse the place of its

corruption; folding her hands, she began to sing, soft and low:

“O Jesus, see

My misery:

God’s image out is blotted,

And with snow-white leprosy

Sin my soul has spotted.

“Once heavenly bright

Thy own delight,

It was—a new creation;

Now, because of sin’s dread blight,

Under condemnation.

“In death’s dark night,

Devoid of light,

It sought to find its pleasure;

All in vain, since it did slight

God, its greatest treasure.

“No tongue can tell

How low it fell

In sin’s dire degradation;

By forgetting heaven and hell,

It sought consolation.

“Thus it was found

In darkness bound,

With all its powers shattered,

Led at will by Satan round,

And with filth bespattered.

“O Christ, in Thee,

Who cam’st to be

A ransom for us given,

Is our only sanctity

And our way to heaven.

“Thy mercy be

My only plea;

Thy light my soul enlighten,

That it God again may see,

And life’s pathway brighten.

“Let morning rays

Of Thy mild grace

Upon my heart be streaming,

And from death my soul thus raise

By Thy love redeeming.

“O sinner’s friend,

Whom thorns did lend

Death’s scornful coronation,

Grant me peace with God again,

And with it salvation.”

She sang the whole hymn through before she got up again to change the

cloths; that duty done, she went out to help Sörine and Sofie in the

kitchen.

All that night Beret sat by the bedside. Though the sick man

seemed no worse, the specks of rust that he raised from the depths of

his chest appeared to her to be larger and more numerous. He slept

little, but she didn’t wonder at that—he must have solemn things to

think about now. She wanted to talk them over with him, but did not

like to disturb his thoughts yet awhile. During the early part of the

night they exchanged few words. But along toward morning the paroxysms

of coughing became more frequent and violent; there were times when

they almost choked him. Once she grew frightened and got up to hold his

head; his face was turning blue as he struggled for breath; then she

said, slowly: “Now I think you must prepare yourself, Hans Olsa.”

He turned his head sharply and looked at her.... “Prepare myself?” ...

“You will hardly be able to stand this very much longer.”

The big bulk of Hans Olsa lay very quiet; only his hand was moving

nervously over the cover; his eyes had a questioning, startled look....

“Well ... many have got over the cough.” ....

She did not answer him. After a while he added, thoughtfully, “It will

be worse for those who are left.” ...

“You ought not to say that, Hans Olsa—their time has not yet come.

But remember that for you the day of grace is nearly over.” She spoke

quietly and compassionately, in a tone of voice which, whenever she

used it, always carried conviction by its confident faith.

For a long time Hans Olsa made no reply; he turned his face to the wall

and closed his eyes. Beret stood looking at him.... “He does not like

what I said. That’s how we are, we sinners. But I am glad I said it. I

don’t believe he will ever get up again.”

... “Oh, well,” murmured Hans Olsa after a while. “He has had mercy on

many a sinner before. I suppose there will be a little left for me,

too.” ...

A great eagerness suddenly welled up in Beret’s soul.... “If only you

will bring him a contrite heart! But how can one forgive the erring

child who does not repent?... Woe unto you that are rich!—For ye

have received your consolation.... Woe unto you that are full!—For

ye shall hunger.... Woe unto you that laugh now!—For ye shall weep

and mourn.... Oh no, we cannot only comfort ourselves with the belief

that there is mercy enough—that it is free!” ... With firm hands, she

changed the cloths again.

One severe coughing spell after another began to attack him now, and

nothing more was said; but after a prolonged struggle he got his breath

again; completely exhausted, he turned his face to the wall, and it

looked as if he might drop off to sleep.... He lay perfectly quiet a

long time.

Beret knit steadily until her hands grew tired; she wondered if she

couldn’t find something to do for Sörine, took the lamp and went

into the kitchen. Here she found a great pile of coarse hay stacked

against the wall; she set to work at once, making twists of it for

the fire. All the while she was thinking about her conversation with

Hans Olsa.... “It will seem strange not to meet Hans Olsa in the

hereafter—that it will. In the old country we grew up together....

They are good folk, both he and she.... And now he is starting out on

his long journey—and will not pass through the heavenly gates!... His

mother, Ellen, was a very God-fearing woman; his father I didn’t know,

but I never heard a word against him.... Now they have waited there

for him these many years; it will be hard for me to meet them some day

and tell them how it all happened here.... Perhaps I will be to blame,

too; I certainly haven’t done what I should.... Oh, how can he hope

to get in? Not many from the Dakota prairie will ever stand in glory

_there_—that I am sure of!... For here Earth takes us. What she cannot

get easily she wrests by subtle force, and we do not even know it....

I see what happens in my own home.... It is awful!... Here he lay at

the point of death, enjoying Tönseten’s ribaldry!... With thoughts like

this, he is now to meet his God!” ...

The lamp burned low. The room was growing cold. She got up and threw

some fagots into the fire, waited until it burned up briskly,

then put on a couple of sticks of wood—there were not many left in

the box.... “It will not be easy for Sörrina when he is gone.... But

nothing else matters, if only he could reach the Heavenly Home! We can

take care of things here.” ...

She went into the bedroom again, to see if she could do anything for

the sick man. He was awake when she came in; his manner showed that he

had been waiting for her.

“How is the weather outside?” he asked, slowly. “Would it be possible

for a man to travel in it?”

“What do you say?” She came close to the bed.

“Could we try to get the doctor, do you suppose?... Others out here

have had him.” ...

“We shall see when daylight comes.... But how about the minister, Hans

Olsa?”

“The minister?”

“Yes—when the Lord’s hour is at hand, man’s help is of no avail;

for from His wrath no man can flee!... What you need most of all is

Communion, Hans Olsa!”

“Communion . . .? Well ... yes ... I suppose so . . . that is true.”

“It is terrible to fall into the hands of the living God,” said Beret,

quietly, and looked into his face with sorrowful despair. “There is

nothing but evil in us—yes, nothing! But when He comes to us in Holy

Communion, laying His merciful hands benignantly upon us and assures us

from out the Gates of Eternity that all our sins are forgiven—oh, there

is no moment so great as this for the sin-burdened soul! Then we may

rest in peace.” ...

Once more he turned his face away, gave a light cough, and looked

fixedly at the wall. Beret felt intuitively that his cough was forced

this time.... “How strange we are—we erring mortals! Here I stand,

telling him of the truth and the light and the way. Now he is wandering

in the dark—he does not know which way to go. But when I tell him, he

coughs the word away!... Thus it is to be dead in the midst of life!”

He lay still awhile, and then he said, wearily, “All my life I

have thought it would be blessed to come Home.”

Tears came to Beret’s eyes.... “But are you ready to journey on? Do

you dare now to meet Him as you are?... Here you have lived all these

years, in error and sin, and have not taken time to give Him any

thoughts at all.”

“Oh no,” he sighed, heavily.... “But that isn’t so very strange, is it?”

She felt uplifted by what she had been able to say; it gave her greater

courage to go on.... “That’s why you must seek Him here, before you

meet Him face to face yonder!” she cried, exultantly. “Now I will pray

for you.” ... Without waiting for his consent, she knelt beside the bed

and began to pray earnestly, with sweet compassion vibrating through

her mellow voice, that he who now lay here might be given the grace to

see his sin and to repent before the door had closed.

But she had hardly begun when something stopped the prayer.... Hans

Olsa had reared himself up on his elbows when she had sunk to her

knees beside the bed, and had remained in this position, staring at

her wide-eyed. As he heard how she pleaded for him he was seized with

a sudden convulsion of coughing; he sat up frantically in bed, gasping

for breath. The bedclothes fell off him, the poultices slipped down,

and Beret had to leave her praying to attend to him. And when he was

quiet again he asked to have his milk warmed; then he had to get up;

from that he got an attack of chills, and Beret had to call Sörine to

help her warm the cloths once more and tuck him in.

With the first grey light of dawn Johannes Mörstad arrived, begging and

begging that Beret go with him—Josie was coming down; he had tried to

get Kjersti, but she had lamed herself so badly the other day, that it

was impossible for her to walk that far.... “This is certainly the work

of the devil!” thought Beret. “Just now ...!” But she went out of the

house full of the same great exaltation, like one whose sins had been

laid bare before the whole congregation....

VI

A little while later Per Hansa dropped in to see how they were getting

along. He said that he would arrange with the Solum boys to help him

carry hay and water to the herd up north; that done, he would go to

Gjermund Dahl’s, to get him to come and help Sörine with the chores.

This evening he would come back to make a report about everything. Now

he must be gone....

People were hard at work throughout the whole settlement; the weather

continued threatening, and there was much to be done after the storm;

hogs and cattle, as well as human beings, had to be safeguarded against

another onslaught of winter. On most of the farms the outhouses were

still of primitive construction, built either of sod or of poles and

straw. The last storm had buried some of them entirely; from others it

had stripped off the straw so completely, that the tops of the poles

poking through the snowdrifts resembled nothing so much as bleached

bones sticking out of the ground. Of some of the farmhouses only the

roofs could be seen; of the sod huts, only the chimneys; down at

Tönseten’s, the smoke came right out of a hole in the snowbank. If one

wanted to go to his neighbour’s, he had to put on skis or snowshoes,

and keep on top of the drifts. There were homes where no other food

was left than dry corn and the little milk that the cows gave. On the

outskirts of the settlement, where the latest newcomers lived, they

sometimes didn’t even have that much. But the people there would borrow

a sack of wheat from anybody who had one; and if they had no coffee

mill in the house, they would use a mortar, or improvise one from a

kettle. Folks were cheerful about helping one another in those days.

What one didn’t have, he borrowed; if one got a new idea, he passed it

on to his neighbours. The scarcity of fuel caused the most suffering,

for hay burned like hay, even if twisted.

Tönseten was sitting in the bedroom at Hans Olsa’s when Per Hansa came

back after supper. He was down-hearted and quiet to-day. Kjersti had

been in bed most of the time because of the stiffness and soreness

from her fall; and she was so cross, he explained, that if a fellow as

much as looked at her she would bite his head off. He had had the devil

to pay, with taking care of both her and himself and doing the chores

besides.... As he noticed how flushed Hans Olsa’s face was and heard

how he struggled for breath, he wondered if his own cough had ever been

as bad as this. If this was _worse_ than he had had it three years ago,

the man would never be able to throw it off.... But he kept the thought

to himself.

Things had been in a bad way with Hans Olsa all that day; the coughing

spells had come oftener; he had been restless and fretful; had asked

first for one thing, and then for another, and was always inquiring

about the weather. At that moment he happened to be quiet; when all at

once he began to talk about the inevitable.... He asked both of his

neighbours to help Sörine when he was gone, and to give her their best

advice about running the farm, just as he would have done for them,

if either one of them had been in his place.... “Per Hansa, stay with

me to-night! Sörrina must have some sleep; she has had all the work

to do outdoors, and needs some rest. It may take a long time with me

yet—perhaps we shall need help from all of you!”

Thus it came about that Per Hansa watched with him that night. Sörine

lay down in the other room, fully dressed. The door between the rooms

stood open. She intended to doze only a minute and not lose herself so

completely that she couldn’t jump up to help when the worst spells came

on; but she had tramped about working in the snow nearly all day, and

was so worn out that she soon dropped off into a sound sleep.

After all had been quiet in the house for some time, Hans Olsa looked

up and asked, in a needlessly loud voice, if his wife was asleep.

When no answer came from the other room, he lay still for quite a

while, gazing up with his eyes fixed on space; then he began, in a

calm, matter-of-fact way, to tell Per Hansa how he thought everything

ought to be arranged after he was gone. He mentioned first a couple of

little debts which he had in Sioux Falls; then he spoke of several

of the new settlers who owed him for seed and cattle, and stipulated

how much each was to pay. It transpired later that in every case he had

stated less than what was owing to him.... Sörine ought to hold the

farm and keep on living here; for this was the country of the future—of

that he was certain. Per Hansa would hereafter have to be her chief

counsellor; if he could hire an honest and capable manager for her,

she and the children would get along all right.... And then there was

Little-Hans—it was hard to go away and not see what this seedling of

manhood would grow up into. If he showed any aptitude for his books,

they would have to send him to St. Olaf College.... Or if the Lord

had destined him for the ministry—But that was probably expecting too

much....

He talked with great difficulty. Every now and then he had to stop for

breath. Per Hansa only nodded his replies; all he could think of to say

was: “Don’t worry.... Is there anything else now?... I will take care

of everything.”

Little by little Per Hansa got the feeling that his friend had

something on his mind; he could not tell exactly why he felt that way,

but the impression grew stronger and stronger. Every time a pause came

over the sick man’s talk, he expected to hear what it was. But there

seemed to be nothing more. At last Hans Olsa fell silent; he was still

looking straight ahead of him; but now he began to be very restless.

A violent fit of coughing shook his frame. From out that great chest

of his came a dreadful wheezing, grating sound, as from an old pair of

leaky bellows when they are blown up hard.

When the cough had eased itself, Hans Olsa began once more his

frightened groping among the things of the future; but now he spoke

less coherently. After midnight he had a quiet spell when he lay as

if exhausted and said nothing; but off and on he would glance at his

neighbour out of the corners of his eyes; there was something unusual

and urgent in the look—something that made a man afraid.... Per Hansa

wondered if the end were at hand....

But suddenly the sick man began to talk again. It was hardly what

Per Hansa had expected to hear. He merely raised his eyes and asked in

a low voice:

“Is the snow very deep?”

“Between our farms,” said Per Hansa, “it doesn’t lie less than four

feet anywhere; and it’s as deep as that on the level all over the

prairie. Down near the creek, by Tönseten’s, it must be as much as

twenty feet deep!... It snowed just a little, I want you to know!”

“Is it as bad as that?” ... The sick man sighed heavily, his hands

fidgeting with the covers; then he repeated in a low voice: “So—is it

as deep as that?”

“Was there something on your mind?”

“Then it isn’t possible to get anywhere!” ... The powerful jaws closed;

drops of sweat stood out on the great, shiny face.

Per Hansa’s heart stirred with a nameless dread; he felt himself grow

dizzy, but he cleared his throat and said, firmly:

“What is it that you want, Hans Olsa?... Do you want the doctor?”

The sick man turned toward him.

“Oh—it’s the minister I need!” ... Then, after a moment, he added: “But

don’t you think the weather will be better in a day or two?” ...

He lay perfectly still. When he got no answer he looked up and

repeated, imploringly:

“Don’t you think so?”

Per Hansa rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth across

the floor. It must be very close in here ... he felt so faint.

Thinking of how it was outdoors, he suddenly found himself bathed in

perspiration.... God pity him who had to travel the prairie these days!

He came back to the bed.

“You feel that you must have him?”

“It is terrible to fall into the hands of the living God!” ... The

large, kindly features were drawn and trembling, with fear of the

unknown. Per Hansa could scarcely endure it to look at him; he had

to lean against the back of a chair for support.... In broken words,

his friend repeated: “It is terrible ... terrible ... to fall ... into

His hands!” ...

“Hush, now! Hush, now, man! Don’t talk blasphemy!” cried Per Hansa.

“Lie down, now.... See here ... the covers are falling off you!”

The bulky form had reared itself violently up in bed. Through a

paroxysm of coughing Hans Olsa whimpered:

“Tell Sörrina to come here!”

It looked for a moment as if he were passing away in the midst of the

attack. Hans Olsa himself thought so. In wild alarm, Per Hansa resorted

to pounding the sick man’s back, just as one does with children

when they have swallowed the wrong way. But after a while the spell

gradually left him, as the others had done. He settled back, and a

little later fell into a deep sleep, which lasted till morning.

The first rays of daylight woke Sörine. Her husband was already awake

by that time, and seemed better. Per Hansa put on his coat and prepared

to go; he had all his own work to do at home, besides Hans Olsa’s

cattle up north to look after.

Hans Olsa watched him get ready, following all his movements with a

pathetic sadness like that which stands in a dog’s eyes when he watches

his master go away without him. Then he called him over to the bedside

and asked him again what the weather was like. There was an odd little

quiver in his voice as he said, almost as though he were ashamed:

“I suppose it’s still impossible to get anywhere?”

Per Hansa felt like laughing at such childishness in a grown-up man; he

scarcely knew what to answer. But answer he must; so he braced himself,

buttoned his big coat, put on his mittens, and said, firmly: “You ought

to lie still and sleep awhile longer, Hans Olsa.... During the night

you slept like a rock—and see how much better you are already.... I

promise you that I’ll be back some time later in the day.”

“You don’t think it can be done?”

Nameless dread again seized Per Hansa. He stepped back and said,

hastily: “Calm yourself now, Hans Olsa!... We’ll have to see about

it—you understand.”

The sick man reached out toward him, caught his hand and held it

tightly, with something of his old strength.... “Oh, Per Hansa!” he

cried.... “There never was a man like you ...!” and fell back on the

pillow, exhausted.

VII

All through the latter part of last summer and early fall Per Hansa had

done a full man’s work plus a bit more; nor had he spared the boys,

either. And he had hired a number of men besides. He needed all the

help he could get; for there was the new house to be built, the crops

to be harvested, the fall plowing that must be done, and in addition,

all the other work about the farm.

But he had gone about his duties in a mood that made any task easy both

for himself and for those who worked with him. His wife’s improved

condition had relieved him of whole loads of worry and anxiety. During

the years that her mind had been beclouded he had treated her as a

father would a delicate, frail child that, by some inexcusable fault

on his part, had been reduced to helplessness. So solicitous had been

his watchful care over her through all these years, that this paternal

attitude had become fixed with him. Even now that she was well again,

it didn’t change.

Her growing religious concern didn’t alarm him; that, too, he took

as a notion on the part of a frail child. He either would meet her

admonitions with silence, or else laugh kindly at her eagerness, or he

might throw himself into the work all the harder. The fact that she now

was quite all right again, that he no longer needed to watch over her

in constant dread, but that she, on the contrary, could take care of

the house in a capable way and even find time to help with the outside

work, was a constant source of thankfulness to him. To him she was

still the delicate child that needed a father’s watchful eye. To desire

her physically would be as far from his mind as the crime of incest.

Shortly before the Christmas holidays they had had a set-to over

religion. She had insisted that he as the father of the family should

conduct daily devotion. At this demand he had laughed, not unkindly but

humorously, as if she had sprung a good joke on him.... He conducting

devotion—the idea! She had become insistent; her voice was full of deep

sorrowful concern over his seemingly total depravity. She had entreated

him earnestly and yet so kindly that he, too, was touched. And so he

had said, as one yields to an unreasonable whim of a dear child, that

that he would not do, but he would be glad to have her do it, for she

could read so beautifully, which was true. Feeling that it would be

dangerous to his temper to argue the matter any longer, he had gone out

of the house to find some work outside. From that time on she had been

conducting devotion each day, but both of them had studiously avoided a

new discussion, with the result that the relation between them was less

frank than before; each seemed to feel the guardedness of the other.

As time passed her devotional exercises became less and less pleasing

to him; at times they would get on his nerves. In the prayers she

began to offer there would creep in more and more of concern for him;

and little by little it got to be almost exclusively for him. As he

sat there listening it sounded to him as if he were the most hardened

sinner in all Christendom; he would feel ashamed before the children,

would find some pretext to steal out of the house. But he couldn’t

bring it across his heart to speak to her; for how can one reason with

a child that is so delicate as she, he thought.

* * * * *

In the grey light of dawn Per Hansa returned from the bedside of Hans

Olsa, looking like a man who had reached the end of his rope. He hung

up his coat and hat and sat down at the table in the large kitchen to

eat his breakfast. Off and on he glanced out of the window. While Beret

brought him his food, she asked how things were over at Hans Olsa’s.

At first she got very little satisfaction; his answers were short and

taciturn, and he seemed engrossed in his own thoughts. He ate slowly

and took a long time over the meal; all the while he kept looking

out of the window.

At length he got up from the table, crossed to the stove, turned his

back to it, and put his hands behind him, as though he still felt cold

and needed the warmth of the fire.... “Well,” he said, meditatively,

“I suppose he doesn’t expect to get over this sickness—and it’s more

than likely he won’t. He just lies there and whimpers about having the

minister.... There’s something uncanny about him. I can’t understand

it at all.” ... These remarks were not directed at Beret; he stood

looking straight ahead of him, as if thinking aloud. Beret had stopped

working when she heard him; her face lighted up as she answered, with

an unmistakable ring of exultation in her voice: “But I can understand

it!... Now may God be near and hear his prayer! Some one must go for

the minister at once.”

Per Hansa did not move; he was staring off into space. Beret crossed

the floor, her hands full of dishes, and stopped directly in front of

him.... “You must persuade some one to go with you. This is terrible

weather!... Could you try going on horseback?”

“Huh—horseback! How you talk!”

“But it is an awful thing for a soul to be cast into hell when human

beings can prevent it!”

Per Hansa seemed amused at this idea. “Well, if Hans Olsa is bound in

that direction, there’ll be a good many more from here in the same

boat!... He’ll land in the right place, don’t worry.”

The words sounded so blasphemous to Beret that she could not repress

a shudder of horror. Greatly wrought up, she set the dishes down on

the table and said, fiercely: “You know what our life has been: land

and houses, and then more land, and cattle! That has been his whole

concern—that’s been his very life. Now he is beginning to think about

not having laid up treasures in heaven.... Can’t you understand that a

human being ever becomes concerned over his sins and wants to be freed

from them?”

“I suppose I don’t understand anything, do I?” said Per Hansa in a

tone of disgust. “Perhaps I don’t understand, for instance—though God

knows it would not be difficult for any grown person to see it—that no

man could cross the prairie from here to the James River, as things are

now, and come out alive—... As for Hans Olsa, the Lord will find him

good enough, even without either minister or _klokker_—that I truly

believe!”

“The God of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe

not!... Here lies one who is about to receive his sight, and we will

not reach out a hand to help him!”

“Hold your tongue, Beret!” cried Per Hansa, sharply, anger at the

hopelessness of the argument getting the better of him. “Do you want to

drive me out into the jaws of death?”

“What horrible things you say, Per Hansa!”

“Horrible—well I Don’t you suppose the good Lord would have provided

other weather if he had intended me to make this trip?”

She gave him a quick look.

“It’s possible to try, isn’t it?” she said with cold persistence.

“Why can’t you get some one to go with you? You could take Indi—he is

light-footed, and we could wrap things around all four legs, so that he

wouldn’t sink through the snow. They say that has been done before—I’ve

read about it.... Henry has a sleigh; and you could turn back at any

time, if you couldn’t make it.... The Lord would forgive us then for

what we couldn’t possibly do—if we had tried!”

“He had better do that right now!” growled Per Hansa, a gust of hot

anger nearly choking him. Without another word he went to the stairs,

called Ole and Store-Hans, and told them to get into their clothes

right away. Pulling on his coat, he slammed out of the house to do the

morning chores.

Beret looked at the door through which he had just disappeared....

There he leaves in a fit of temper, fuming and cussing!... She took

up the morning work, her thoughts busy with many things. Before she

realized it she was absorbed in what had so often been on her

mind lately: What had happened to him, anyway? What had made him so

different?... His warm playfulness, his affectionate tenderness—what

had become of it?... Oh no, no! she caught herself, how can I be

thinking of such things again! The sweet desires of the flesh are the

nets of Satan.... How deeply sin has besoiled all life!... Beret went

about her work with a greater determination; but her sad mood did not

lift.

A hundred things were waiting for Per Hansa outside, but he was so

angry that he scarcely noticed what he was about.... The world seemed

upside down to-day.... That grown people couldn’t see an inch beyond

their noses! Here lay Hans Olsa, driving himself out of his mind

because he couldn’t have a minister—when there was no better man than

himself in all Christendom!... And here was Beret insisting that he

leap right into the arms of death—she who had a heart so tender that

she couldn’t harm a mouse!... People could certainly twist things

around in a queer way! All his life he had worked and slaved in order

that she and the children might be made comfortable ... and now it was

flung in his face and he was taunted with being only a blind mole who

saw nothing but the hole he had burrowed himself into!... “By God, it’s

a strange world we live in!” ... If this went on much longer, he would

go out of his mind himself—if he wasn’t a little crazy already!... He

dashed from one thing to another in a frenzy, leaving everything half

done.

When the boys came out they all put on their skis and started across

the snowdrifts to Hans Olsa’s north quarter. The day was bleak; a

cold air was drawing in from the west. To Store-Hans, all these

fields of snow were glorious; now he could skim like a bird over the

drifts. Little by little Per Hansa, forgot his temper as he caught the

infection of the boy’s exuberant joy.

While they were working over the cattle, Per Hansa talked in a steady

stream to the boys. All this snow, he said, promised a bumper crop

next summer—you could depend on that!... One of his moods of high

good humour had come over him now with a rush; and as was customary

with him in that frame of mind, he discussed things with the boys

as if they had been grown men. He outlined at length how they could

manage their place in order to have the very finest of farms. If all

went well, they would build a big barn next fall; but they certainly

wouldn’t be such damned idiots as to build a horse barn and cow barn

separate, as that fool Torkel Tallaksen had done! It made a fine show,

all right, but it was hardly practical; besides costing a good deal

more, the barns were cold.... But they were going to have a real show

barn, just the same—red with white cornices, because he always thought

those colors looked the best.... Then he told them how he had read

in the _Skandinaven_[23] that the big farmers in the East now built

a track under the ridgepole, along which they hauled the hay right

into the barn loft. They would have to investigate this idea, for it

sounded practical.... They found plenty to do up north; they saw to it

that the cattle had water and hay enough; they carried in more straw;

they stuffed the cracks in the walls; and all the while they talked

and worked together like three grown men. Per Hansa felt the need

of throwing off the great burden that weighed him down; and for the

moment he seemed to be succeeding fairly well. But at last they had

finished everything that needed to be done; then the skis went on in a

hurry, and off flew the boys like two great sea gulls soaring across

the fiord.... No more time for talk! They struck off directly for the

highest hill in sight; from there they could slide all the way down to

the creek.... Wasn’t it wonderful ... all this snow!

[23] Norwegian-American newspaper published in Chicago.

Just as Per Hansa reached the yard at home Sörine was coming out of the

kitchen door; she went over to the wall of the house, took a pair of

skis that stood there, and put them on. He noticed that she was very

thinly clad. She had a shawl over her head, but wore no other outdoor

wrap. He concluded at once that she must have left home in a hurry,

and feared that the worst had happened.... Was anything wrong?

he asked.... No, Hans Olsa didn’t seem much worse; she thought he

looked a little better. But her face was sad and she looked down as

she spoke.... Bridget had been to see him again and had said there was

no hope.... “And I guess there isn’t, either,” she went on. “But I

had to come over and ask your advice, Per Hansa.... He said that you

were going after the minister for him. And I suppose that might be a

good thing to do; at any rate, he is very happy about it.... But now,

of course, I see that it’s impossible to go anywhere.... Still, I was

thinking that if you _did_ intend to try, it might be better to get the

doctor instead.... I don’t suppose you can think of it in this weather,

but I had to come over, anyway....” Not once did she look up as the

obvious pleading went on.

Per Hansa glanced down at his skis. Her voice had a thin, timid sound

in this piercing wind. He felt the cold himself and remembered how

thinly she was clad.

“You must stay awhile and get warm before you go,” he said, quietly.

“No, I must hurry home. I know I shouldn’t have come, but—” her voice

suddenly left her. In a moment it came back, and then she went on,

bravely: “It is so hard to see him go, without being able to help! And

then we all have a feeling that nothing is ever impossible for you—and

I thought that perhaps you might find a way out of this, too!” ... All

at once her pleading had taken on a frantic urgency.

“Did he ask you to come to me?”

“No—he didn’t exactly do that. But he kept wondering if you weren’t

getting ready—if you wouldn’t be starting soon. I could see plainly

enough that he wanted some one to come over.”

Per Hansa said nothing more, nor did he look at her again. She went

away at once. When she had gone, he took off his skis, beat the snow

from them, and set them up against the wall. But he did not go in

immediately.... His thoughts followed her who was now walking across

the snow, passed her, entered the house before her, saw his friend

lying there—saw the great face staring up at him, the frightened eyes

imploring him like those of a kindly dog. He stood still in his

tracks a long time, gazing off into vacancy, without the will to

move....

On the kitchen floor Permand was playing at threshing. When the father

came in he hailed him, giving off orders like a man: “Come here and

help me, you; we’ve got to get this work done before evening!” The

boy’s heart and soul were in his play. Seeing that dinner was not yet

ready, the father hung up his coat and hat and sat down on the floor

beside his son. In a moment they were both absorbed in the play.

During the meal the two parents scarcely spoke to each other, and never

once did their eyes meet. As soon as they had finished the boy came

and wanted his father to play with him some more; the father willingly

agreed, and soon they were hard at it again. It was a serious question

as to how they could get a lot of threshing done to-day; all the while

they were laughing and talking about it, making a great deal of noise.

As the mother cleared the table she kept looking at them in wonder and

dismay.... Here he sat and played with the child, just as if there were

nothing serious in the world for him. The day was wearing on. Didn’t he

really intend to try to do anything? She could have cried aloud in her

anguish! Had he become stone blind?... When she had finished washing

the dishes she went to the window and stood there awhile, looking out;

then she crossed to the wall where her outdoor clothes hung, and began

to put them on. This attracted Per Hansa’s attention.

... Was she going out? he asked.

... Yes.... She put on one of his coats over her own wrap, then pulled

his big stocking cap over her head.

He looked up a second time.

“Are you going far? You seem to be wrapping up a good deal.”

She waited a moment before she answered.

“I have to talk to Henry.... _Some one_ must go on this errand for

Hans Olsa!” Her face was flushed with determination and her eyes shone

with a quiet light.

Per Hansa burst into a laugh and scrambled to his feet.

“You’ll have to behave yourself now, woman,” he said, like a man trying

to talk reason into a naughty child. “You ought to know that this is no

weather for a woman to be out in.”

“It’s no weather for men to be out in, either, by the way it looks in

here!”

He whirled on her suddenly, his face white with passion; the eyes that

stared at her fiercely, burned with a lambent flame.

“God help me!” she thought. “Now he’s going to lay hands on me!... But

I only spoke the truth!”

“I want no more damned nonsense about this!” he burst out, hoarsely.

“If you ... if you have something to say to Henry, you’ll have to

say it here in this house.... You can’t go chasing from farm to farm

to-day!” ...

Before she knew it he had gone out of the kitchen.

VIII

In front of the steps stood the forward part of a sleigh, on which the

boys had tried to haul hay to the house; it was a clumsy, homemade

affair, so heavy that the boys couldn’t budge it after it had stood

awhile, and so they had left it where it was. Per Hansa had noticed it

earlier in the day, and it had angered him at the time to think that

the boys were so careless.... When he came out now this object was the

first thing he saw. He rushed at it; wrenched it out of the snow with

a violent jerk, and flung it so hard into a drift that only one runner

remained in sight.

“_There_!... God damn the thing!” he muttered.

With that passionate outburst his temper seemed suddenly to have left

him; but his face was still very pale. His skis leaned up against the

wall where he had placed them; he put them on and stood still for a

moment, lost in thought; then, staff in hand, he started off....

In the east part of the settlement lived two Telemarking[24] boys, who

had come over a couple of years before. They were skilled skismiths;

last winter each one had made himself a pair with straps and staffs,

the finest ever seen in this part of the country. This year they had

made two trips to town on them before Christmas.... It was to these

boys that Per Hansa now went. In about an hour he returned with one

pair of skis on his shoulders, and another on his feet. Neither pair

was his own.

[24] People from the mountain district of Telemarken, Norway.

Beret, greatly agitated by her husband’s hasty departure, walked back

and forth across the kitchen floor.... “Now I have brought things to a

sorry pass!” she thought. “I know I said too much—but what could I do?

Some one has to go, and I had no one else to ask.” ... When she saw him

returning with the skis she felt relieved.... “It’s sensible of him to

go on skis; it’s the only way he can possibly get along.... I wonder

who he intends to take along with him? He ought to have thought of the

plan more seriously this morning; the boys and I could have managed

with the chores.... I must hurry up and make him a cup of coffee; he

must have something hot to drink before he leaves.... They’ll hardly

get far to-day.” ... She put the coffeepot on the stove and began to

set the table.... “I guess I’ll put on a tablecloth to make things nice

for him.... He mustn’t think that I hold any hard feelings.” ...

The oldest two boys were busy digging a tunnel from the cow barn to

the pigsty—the latter had been completely snowed under. Per Hansa went

over there first; he talked to them as if he were in no hurry, and when

it seemed to him that they were losing interest, he went down into the

tunnel where they were.... He said that now he was going away, and that

it was uncertain when he would return. Could he depend on them to look

after things while he was gone?... The boys were absorbed in their

task and didn’t pay much attention to what he said. Certainly he could

go. They would look after everything. They went on with their work,

and soon fell into a quarrel about how long it would take them to

reach the pigsty.... He left the boys, took his skis, and went into the

granary; there he rubbed one pair of skis with some tallow which he

kept for the purpose, and put a piece of the tallow into his pocket. He

also had to adjust the straps a little before he could start....

While he was doing this Peder Victorious came trudging in and announced

that mother had made coffee. She said father must come in before it got

cold.

“What?” ... Per Hansa’s face brightened. “Did mother really say that?”

“She said coffee was ready.”

“Oh!...”

Per Hansa had now adjusted the straps as he wanted them, and stood

looking around for a rope with which to strap the other pair of skis on

his back.

“Did she send you out and tell you to say that?” ...

“She said—she said—coffee was ready, she said!”

The father looked at his son. “You haven’t got enough on, Permand,” he

said in a low, tender voice, stroking the boy’s cheek with his hand and

running his finger down into the soft warm neck. The boy screamed when

it tickled. Per Hansa laughed to hear him. “Hm—hm—cold as an icicle!

Pack yourself in this minute!... So mother has the coffee ready, you

say?”

He carried the boy out lovingly, set him down with a lingering touch,

and went back after his skis. One pair he tied to his back; the other

he put on.

The boy waited, watching him.

“Aren’t you coming, father?”

“Get into the house with you!” the father said with mock severity.

“I’ll probably be along in a little while.” ... Then, as he

straightened up and put on his mittens, he suddenly remembered

something:

“Permand!”

“Ya?” ...

“There’s a ball of nice twine in the bedroom. Ask mother to find it and

give it to you to play with.... And now you must be a good boy,

and get a lot of threshing done before I come back!”

“Yes, father,” said the boy as he trotted away.

Per Hansa stood motionless, watching him until he had passed from sight

inside the house. Then, with a staff in either hand, he started off....

Was that a face at the window that he saw?...

He did not look at the house again. In a moment he had passed the place

where the boys were digging the tunnel; he longed to talk with them

once more, but crushed the feeling down.... He struck out westward.

Something tugged and pulled at his heart, trying to make him turn back;

it was as if he had a bridle on and the driver were pulling hard on

one of the reins. He had to bend his head forward against this unseen

force in order to hold his direction.... “No—not now—not now....” he

murmured, bitterly, wiping his mitten across his eyes.

In the kitchen window Beret stood watching him; her soft, kindly

eyes grew large and questioning.... Wasn’t he coming in? Had Permand

forgotten to tell him?... Surely, surely, he would come. She had fixed

things so nicely for him.... Oh, this would never do! She must find

out at once who was going with him!... She hurried to the door, flung

it open, ran out on the steps, and tried to call to him—he simply

mustn’t leave this way!... But he had already gone beyond the range of

her voice; the westerly gusts, driving full against her, snatched her

words away. Her eyes filled with tears, so that she could scarcely see

him now. Furious blasts came swirling out of the grey, boundless dusk,

sweeping the snow in stinging clouds, whirling it round and round,

dropping it only to pick it up again. Per Hansa soon disappeared in the

whirling waste.... The wind was so cold that it penetrated to the very

marrow of her bones.

A little later Per Hansa turned in at Hans Olsa’s; he sat and talked

with them awhile in the bedroom. Their words were few and far between.

Per Hansa felt that there was nothing more for him to do here. At

length he got up and said that now he was going—what sort of a

trip he would have he did not know. If luck were with him, he would

bring back the minister. In the meantime Hans Olsa must behave himself

and rest as much as possible, for he really had nothing to worry

about.... The sick man groped for Per Hansa’s hand, and did not seem

to want to let it go. He acted like a child who has teased and teased

until it has finally got its way....

“I didn’t dare to ask you right out,” he said, as if in explanation.

“But I knew you would go as soon as it was possible—that’s always been

the way with you.... Now I can sleep in comfort.” ...

Out in the kitchen Sörine sat waiting at the table; when she heard this

she hurried to pour the coffee, intending to make him sit down and have

a cup before he left.

“Must I have coffee here too?... No, no,” he said, jerking up his head.

“I’ve had enough for to-day!” ...

With these words he went out.

He put on his skis, straightened himself up, and remained standing

there for some time; as he pulled on his mittens he took one glance

homeward. He could just make out the house in the dim distance. Then

the whiteness all around it thickened—rose up in a cloud—seemed to be

piling in. Whirls of snow flew high over the housetop—sometimes the

house itself disappeared.... He sighed deeply, brushed his eyes with

his mitts, and started on his way.

He took his bearings from familiar outlines of the landscape, and laid

the course he thought he ought to follow.... Perhaps it wasn’t so

dangerous, after all. The wind had been steady all day, had held in the

same quarter, and would probably keep on.... Oh, well—here goes!...

He thought no more about his course for a while; but instead he began

to wonder if he had done wrong in not going in to drink the coffee,

when Beret had taken all the trouble to make it.... “Now she’ll go

around feeling unhappy, just because I am so touchy; and she’ll be so

melancholy that she’ll have little patience with the boys.... Such

high-spirited colts need to be managed with a careful hand.

She doesn’t understand that at all!” ... Thoughts of home continued

to come, warm and tender; he laughed softly at them.... “You may be

sure she’ll get Permand to remember me in his prayers to-night, if he

doesn’t think of it himself.... It would be fun to listen to them!” ...

He moved slowly on with steady strokes, taking note of the wind at odd

times. The picture would not leave him.... “It would be fun just to

look in on them.... Oh, Permand, Permand! Something great must come of

you—you who are so tenderly watched over!” ...

The swirling dusk grew deeper.... Darkness gathered fast.... More

snow began to fall.... Whirls of it came off the tops of the drifts,

circled about, and struck him full in the face.... No danger—the wind

held steady.... At home all was well ... and now mother was saying her

evening prayers with Permand.... Move on!—Move on!...

IX

About halfway across the stretch from Colton to the James River a

cluster of low hills rear themselves out of the prairie. Here and there

among them a few stray settlers had already begun to dig in.

On one of the hillsides stood an old haystack which a settler had left

there when he found out that the coarse bottom hay wasn’t much good for

fodder. One day during the spring after Hans Olsa had died, a troop

of young boys were ranging the prairies, in search of some yearling

cattle that had gone astray. They came upon the haystack, and stood

transfixed. On the west side of the stack sat a man, with his back to

the mouldering hay. This was in the middle of a warm day in May, yet

the man had two pairs of skis along with him; one pair lay beside him

on the ground, the other was tied to his back. He had a heavy stocking

cap pulled well down over his forehead, and large mittens on his

hands; in each hand he clutched a staff.... To the boys, it looked

as though the man were sitting there resting while he waited for better

skiing....

... His face was ashen and drawn. His eyes were set toward the west.

THE END

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Prairie Wife, The. Arthur Stringer.

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Progressive Marriage. Bonnie Busch.

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Purple Mist, The. Gladys Edson Locke.

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Quill’s Window. George Barr McCutcheon.

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Rainbow Valley. L. M. Montgomery.

Re-Creation of Brian Kent, The. Harold Bell Wright.

Red and Black. Grace S. Richmond.

Red Lamp. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

Red Ledger, The. Frank L. Packard.

Red Pepper Burns. Grace S. Richmond.

Red Pepper’s Patients. Grace S. Richmond.

Red of the Redfields, The. Grace S. Richmond.

Red Road, The. Hugh Pendexter.

Red Sky at Morning. Margaret Kennedy.

Renegade. Arthur O. Friel.

Return of Dr. Fu-Manchu. Sax Rohmer.

Rhoda Fair. Clarence Budington Kelland.

Riddle of Three Way Creek, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Rider of the Golden Bar. William Patterson White.

Rilla of Ingleside. L. M. Montgomery.

Ringer, The. Edgar Wallace.

Rise of Roscoe Paine, The. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Rivers to Cross. Roland Pertwee.

Rocks of Valpre, The. Ethel M. Dell.

Romantic Comedians, The. Ellen Glasgow.

Romeo in Moon Village. George Barr McCutcheon.

Rose of the World. Kathleen Norris.

Round the Corner in Gay Street. Grace S. Richmond.

Rowforest. Anthony Pryde.

Ruben and Ivy Sen. Louise Jordan Miln.

Rufus. Grace S. Richmond.

Rugged Water. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Running Special. Frank L. Packard.

Rustlers’ Valley. Clarence E. Mulford.

Sackcloth and Ashes. E. W. Savi.

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Saint of the Speedway. Ridgwell Cullum.

Sea Gull, The. Kathleen Norris.

Second Violin, The. Grace S. Richmond.

Seven Sleepers, The. Francis Beeding.

Seventh Man, The. Max Brand.

Seward’s Folly. Edison Marshall.

Shadow of the East, The. E. M. Hull.

Shavings. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Sheik, The. E. M. Hull.

Shepherd of the Hills, The. Harold Bell Wright.

Shepherds of the Wilds. Edison Marshall.

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Sight Unseen and the Confession. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

Silver Horde, The. Rex Beach.

Silver Poppy, The. Arthur Stringer.

Sin That Was His, The. Frank L. Packard.

Singing Heart, The. Florence Ward.

Sinister Man, The. Edgar Wallace.

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Sixth Commandment, The. Carolyn Wells.

Skyline of Spruce, The. Edison Marshall.

Slayer of Souls, The. Robert W. Chambers.

Sleeper of the Moonlit Ranges, The. Edison Marshall.

Small Bachelor, The. P. G. Wodehouse.

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Smiling Pass. Eliot H. Robinson.

Snowdrift. James B. Hendryx.

Snowshoe Trail, The. Edison Marshall.

Son of His Father, A. Harold Bell Wright.

Sons of the Sheik. E. H. Hull.

Sorrows of Satan. Marie Correlli.

Soul of China and Other Stories, The. Louis Jordan Miln.

Soundings. A. Hamilton Gibbs.

Spaniard, The. Juanita Savage.

Spirit of Iron. Harwood Steele.

Spirit of the Border, The. Zane Grey.

Spoilers, The. Rex Beach.

Spooky Hollow. Carolyn Wells.

Steele of the Royal Mounted. James Oliver Curwood.

Stepchild of the Moon. Fulton Oursler.

Still Jim. Honore Willsie.

Stolen Idols. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Story Girl, The. L. M. Montgomery.

Strange Case of Cavendish. Randall Parrish.

Strawberry Acres. Grace S. Richmond.

Strength of the Pines. Edison Marshall.

Subconscious Courtship. Berta Ruck.

Substitute Millionaire. Hulbert Footner.

Sweet Stranger. Berta Ruck.

Tales of Chinatown. Sax Rohmer.

Tales of Secret Egypt. Sax Rohmer.

Tales of Sherlock Holmes. A. Conan Doyle.

Temperamental People. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

Tenderfoots, The. Francis Lynde.

Terrible People, The. Edgar Wallace.

Terror Keep. Edgar Wallace.

Tetherstones. Ethel M. Dell.

Tex. Clarence E. Mulford.

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Thankful’s Inheritance. Joseph C. Lincoln.

That Printer of Udell’s. Harold Bell Wright.

Their Yesterdays. Harold Bell Wright.

Three of Hearts, The. Berta Ruck.

Three Ships in Azure. Irvin Anthony.

Tish. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

To Him That Hath. Ralph Connor.

Torrent, The. (Entre Naranjos.) Vicente Blasco Ibanez.

Trailin’. Max Brand.

Treading the Wine Press. Ralph Connor.

Treasure. Albert Payson Terhune.

Trimmed Lamp, The. O. Henry.

Triumph of John Kars. Ridgwell Cullum.

T. Tembarom. Frances Hodgson Burnett.

Tumbleweeds. Hal G. Evarts.

Twenty-fourth of June. Grace S. Richmond.

Twisted Foot The. William Patterson White.

Two Stolen Idols. Frank L. Packard.

Uncertain Glory, The. Harriet Lummis Smith.

Under the Country Sky. Grace S. Richmond.

Under the Rainbow Sky. Alice Ross Colver.

Uneasy Street. Arthur Somers Roche.

Unknown Quantity, The. Ethel M. Dell.

Untamed, The. Max Brand.

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Valley of Voices, The. George Marsh.

Vandemark’s Folly. Herbert Quick.

Vanished Messenger, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Vanity Case, The. Carolyn Wells.

Vanity Fair. Wm. M. Thackeray.

Vickey Van. Carolyn Wells.

Viola Gwyn. George Barr McCutcheon.

Virgin of Yesterday, A. Dorothy Speare.

Virginia of Elk Creek Valley. Mary Ellen Chase.

Virtuous Husband, The. Freeman Tilden.

Voice of the Pack, The. Edison Marshall.

Wagon Wheel, The. William Patterson White.

Walls of Glass. Larry Barretto.

Way of an Eagle, The. Ethel M. Dell.

Way of the Strong, The. Ridgwell Cullum.

Way of These Women. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

We Must March. Honore Willsie.

West Broadway. Nina Wilcox Putnam.

Westward to Paradise. W. D. Hoffman.

West Wind. Crosbie Garstin.

West Wind Drift. George Barr McCutcheon.

Wheels Within Wheels. Carolyn Wells.

Whelps of the Wolf. George Marsh.

When a Man’s a Man. Harold Bell Wright.

Where the Waters Turn. Theodore Von Ziekursch.

Whispering Outlaw, The. George Owen Baxter.

White Wolf, The. Max Brand.

White Moll, The. Frank L. Packard.

Wild West. Bertrand W. Sinclair.

Window at the White Cat. Mary Roberts Rinehart.

Winds of Chance, The. Rex Beach.

Winning of Barbara Worth. Harold Bell Wright.

Wire Devils, The. Frank L. Packard.

Wishing Ring Man, The. Margaret Widdemer.

With Juliet in England. Grace S. Richmond.

Without Gloves. James B. Hendryx.

Woman Haters, The. Joseph C. Lincoln.

Woman of Knockaloe, The. Hall Cane.

Woman Thou Gavest Me. Hall Caine.

Women of the Family, The. Margaret Culkin Banning

Woodcarver of ’Lympus. Mary E. Waller.

Wrath to Come, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Wrong Mr. Wright, The. Berta Ruck.

Year of Delight, The. Margaret Widdemer.

Yellow Claw, The. Sax Rohmer.

Yellow Shadows. Sax Rohmer.

You Can’t Win. Jack Black.

You’re Only Young Once. Margaret Widdemer.

You’re Young But Once. Louise Breitenbach Clancy.

Zeppelin’s Passenger, The. E. Phillips Oppenheim.

Transcriber’s Notes

1. Italicised words are indicated by _underscores_.

2. Footnotes have been renumbered and moved to the end of the

paragraph.

3. Misspelled words have been corrected (see below). Archaic,

inconsistent and alternative spellings have been left unchanged

(e.g. quotations from the King James Version of the Bible).

Hyphenation has not been standardised.

4. Ellipsis placement has been modified in order to facilitate text

reflow. In most cases ellipses between sentences have been merged

with the closing punctuation of the preceding sentence. Ellipses

between words within a sentence have had spaces added before

and after.

5. Thought breaks (larger gaps between paragraphs) are indicated by

a row of asterisks.

6. “Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the

Levenshtein Distance.

Corrections:

Page Source Correction Edit distance

192 runing running 1

292 vigourous vigorous 1

ads drugdgery drudgery 1