The place where Nipen liked to find his offerings was at the end of the
barn, below the gallery which ran round the outside of the building.
There, in the summer, lay a plot of green grass, and in the winter a
sheet of pure frozen snow. Thither Oddo shuffled on, over the slippery
surface of the yard, and across the paddock, along the lane made by the
snow-plough between high banks of snow; and he took prodigious pains,
between one slip and another, not to spill the ale. He looked more like
a prowling cub than a boy, wrapped as he was in his wolf-skin coat and
his fox-skin cap doubled down over his ears.
As may be supposed from Oddo's declaring that he was sometimes
frightened, he was a brave boy. A cowardly boy would not have said it;
a cowardly boy would not have offered to go at all; a cowardly boy
would, if he had been sent, have wished that the house-door might be
left open, that he might see the cheerful yellow light from within;
whereas Oddo begged his mistress to shut the door, that his grandfather
might not be made to feel his rheumatism by any draught, as he sat at
table. A cowardly boy would have run as fast as he could, perhaps
slipping or falling, and spilling the ale; and when his errand was done,
he would have fled home, without looking behind him, fancying everything
he saw and heard a spirit or a wild beast. Oddo did very differently
from this. As usual, he was too busy finding out how everything
happened to feel afraid, as a less inquisitive boy would.
The cake steamed up in the frosty air under his nose, so warm, and
spicy, and rich, that Oddo began to wonder what so very superior a cake
could be like. He had never tasted any cake so rich as this, nor had
any one in the house tasted such: for Nipen would be offended if his
cake was not richer than anybody's else. Oddo wondered more and more
how this would taste, till, before he had crossed the yard, he wondered
no longer. He broke a piece off, and ate it; and then wondered whether
Nipen would mind his cake being just a little smaller than usual. After
a few steps more, the wonder was how far Nipen's charity would go, for
the cake was now a great deal smaller, and Oddo next wondered whether
anybody could stop eating such a cake when it was once tasted. He was
surprised to see, when he came out into the starlight, at the end of the
barn, how small a piece was left. He stood listening whether Nipen was
coming in a gust of wind, and when he heard no breeze stirring, he
looked about for a cloud where Nipen might be. There was no cloud, as
far as he could see. The moon had set, but the stars were so bright as
to throw a faint shadow from Oddo's form upon the snow. There was no
sign of any spirit being angry at present: but Oddo thought Nipen would
certainly be angry at finding so very small a piece of cake. It might
be better to let the ale stand by itself, and Nipen would perhaps
suppose that Madame Erlingsen's stock of groceries had fallen short; at
least, that it was in some way inconvenient to make the cake on the
present occasion. So, putting down his can upon the snow, and holding
the last fragment of the cake between his teeth, he seized a birch pole
which hung down from the gallery, and by its help climbed one of the
posts, and got over the rails into the gallery, whence he could watch
what would happen. To remain on the very spot where Nipen was expected
was a little more than he was equal to; but he thought he could stand in
the gallery, in the shadow of the broad eaves of the barn, and wait for
a little while. He was so very curious to see Nipen, and to learn how
it liked its ale!
There he stood in the shadow, hearing nothing but his own munching;
though there was not much of that: for as he came near the end, he took
only a little crumb at a time, to spin out the treat; for never was
anything so good! Then he had nothing to do but listen: but the
waterfall was frozen up; and the mill stood as still as if it was not
made to move. If the wheel should creak, it would be a sign that Nipen
was passing.
Presently he heard something.
"Music!" thought he. "I never heard that it liked music; and I don't
think it can know much about music, for this is not at all sweet. There
again! That was a sort of screech. O, how stupid I am!" thought he
again. "So much for my head being full of Nipen! It is only Hund,
tuning his violin, because they have all done supper. They will be
waiting for me. I wish this Nipen would make haste. It can't be very
hungry;--that is clear."
He grew more and more impatient as the minutes passed on, and he was
aware that he was wanted in the house. Once or twice he walked slowly
away, looking behind him, and then turned again, unwilling to miss this
opportunity of seeing Nipen. Then he called the spirit,--actually
begged it to appear. His first call was almost a whisper; but he called
louder and louder by degrees, till he was suddenly stopped by hearing an
answer.
The call he heard was soft and sweet. There was nothing terrible in the
sound itself; yet Oddo grasped the rail of the gallery with all his
strength, as he heard it. The strangest thing was, it was not a single
cry; others followed,--all soft and sweet; but Oddo thought that Nipen
must have many companions: and he had not prepared himself to see more
spirits than one. As usual, however, his curiosity grew more intense,
from the little he had heard; and he presently called again. Again he
was answered, by four or five voices in succession.
"Was ever anybody so stupid!" cried the boy, now stamping with vexation.
"It is the echo, after all! As if there was not always an echo here,
opposite the rock! It is not Nipen at all. I will just wait another
minute, however."
He leaned in silence on his folded arms; and had not so waited for many
seconds before he saw something moving on the snow at a little distance.
It came nearer and nearer, and at last quite up to the can of ale.
"I am glad I stayed," thought Oddo. "Now I can say I have seen Nipen.
It is much less terrible than I expected. Grandfather told me that it
sometimes came like an enormous elephant or hippopotamus; and never
smaller than a large bear. But this is no bigger than--let me see--I
think it is most like a fox. I should like to make it speak to me.
They would think so much of me at home, if I had talked with Nipen."