[Illustration]
That was a day of gayety and laughter for all of them. When Turgen left
toward evening, Aksa who was more talkative and more inquisitive than
her brother asked her mother,
“Now that Turgen belongs to us, will we go to live in his yurta?”
“No, daughter,” Marfa replied. “We will live here, for he has not
enough room for us, and up in the mountains there is no food for a cow.
In the summer we can visit him.”
This did not entirely please the children, who hoped that their new
life would be full of change and excitement. To live in the mountains,
which they did not know except from the valley, would be wonderful. But
grown-ups could not be expected to understand.
“I want to look at the sky from the top of a mountain,” Aksa declared.
“Turgen says that good children can see angels in the sky. But I would
be happy just to see their wings.”
Tim spoke up firmly: “And I want to see Lad and the other rams.”
“So do I,” Aksa added quickly, not to be left out.
Marfa smiled. “Turgen is coming again early tomorrow morning, and if
you ask him he might take you home with him for a visit. If the weather
is warm you can even stay over night.”
“Oh, Mama!” the children exclaimed. “Will you ask him, too?”
“Of course.”
That night the children prayed that the next day would be warm and
Turgen would accept them as his guests, so it did not surprise them
upon wakening to find the day bright and their friend bending over them.
“Dress yourselves, children,” Turgen said, smiling, “I am very glad to
take you with me if you think you can stand the walk uphill.”
“Oh, we can. We are good walkers,” they answered him.
Soon they were ready for what was their first adventure away from home.
Marfa gave them milk to take along, with barley cakes and dried fish.
A twisted path led up the mountain. Turgen walked in front, with Aksa
behind him, and Tim bringing up the rear. The path followed a talkative
little brook and all around was heavy shrubbery with tall fir trees,
larches, and graceful white birches for background. Their progress was
slow because the children must stop every few steps to pick and eat
some of the black and red currants and bird-cherry berries so tasty
this time of year.
Birds overhead twittered so noisily that Aksa asked Turgen seriously,
“What do you think? Are they rejoicing because we are here?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he answered just as seriously. “It is well
known that birds like good children.”
Everything amazed the children. The familiar brook was brighter,
swifter, more mysterious in this higher ground. The woods held
fascinations and terrors they could only imagine. Never having
been far away from their yurta in the valley, they were--thanks to
Turgen--entering a brand-new world. If they stopped frequently, it was
not only because of the berries or because they were tired, but because
they needed time to take in all the wonders. From up here the valley
was a different place than they had known--like a child’s plaything
laid out in squares of green and brown, with the brook wending through
it, a silver thread.
“How close it is!” they marveled. “And we thought we had walked a long
way. Close and small.”
“Yes,” Turgen said, as they strained their eyes to find their yurta at
the bend of the river, “we live only four miles apart. From a mountain
everything appears clearer.”
The path grew steeper the nearer they came to Turgen’s place, and care
had to be taken to avoid loose stones and trees blown down in a storm.
But neither Aksa nor Tim lagged behind their host. They were so happy
to have all of his attention, so eager for what was coming next, that
they could think of a hundred things to say. Aksa especially was very
inquisitive.
“Turgen,” she asked, “why do you live in the mountains instead of the
valley, like us?”
“Why? I don’t know myself,” Turgen answered. “We Lamuts always prefer
to live in the mountains near water. We aren’t like the Yakuts who need
good grazing grounds for their horses and cows. Look at me. I have
nothing except two guns, fishing tackle and my strong legs. I don’t
even own a dog. Most Lamuts are poor. It seems to be our fate. Besides,
there aren’t many of us left. Here--I’m the only one. There was another
family lived here several years ago, but they moved.”
“Why?” Tim wanted to know.
“I can’t say, my boy. Just as a fish seeks deeper water, so a man looks
for a place that will be better for him. Only happiness does not lie in
changing one place for another, but in belonging to a fine family like
yours.”
Turgen patted Aksa’s head as he spoke.
“Didn’t you have a family before?” she questioned.
When Turgen answered her his face was sober. “Yes, but they went away,
leaving me alone.”
“To what place did they go?” the girl persisted.
But Turgen could not talk about this. “To the place all people must go.
It is too soon for you to understand.”
Before Aksa could open her mouth for another question, Tim pulled her
painfully by her braid, saying, “We are now your family. So Mama said.
I will live with you, Turgen, forever.”
“And so will I!” Aksa hastened to add.
“Splendid!” Turgen said, the smile coming back to his eyes. “And now
that is settled we must get to the end of our journey.”
Tim, wanting to distract attention from a subject that was plainly not
to Turgen’s liking, and also because he was bursting with questions
of his own, blurted out: “Is it true what people say, that you are
friendly with wild rams?” When Turgen showed no sign of distaste for
this subject, he rushed on: “I can hardly believe that rams will let
you come close to them. From what I hear, they run faster than the wind
and can jump from one mountain to another. It is difficult even to see
them. We have never seen them--not Mama nor Aksa nor I. Are they really
so smart that they know of danger before it comes near them? People
also say--”
The boy broke off sharply.
“That I am a sorcerer and bewitched. Is that what people say?” Turgen
finished for him. But his expression was kind.
Tim nodded. “This we don’t believe.”
“Good. People will always talk a lot of nonsense when they haven’t
anything better to do.” Turgen shook his head. “More’s the pity. But
since you are interested I will tell you what I know of the rams. What
you hear is part true and part exaggeration. Yes, Lad was my friend.
I cannot say as much for the old rams who are still fearful because
I am a man. And why should they love us who hunt them down?” Turgen
hesitated. “Later I will tell you more. And tomorrow, if you should
happen to wake up early, and the day is bright, you will be able to see
the rams for yourself on top of that cliff over there.” He pointed to
the one opposite his yurta.
Aksa and Tim clapped their hands and whirled with joy. “Will you,
Turgen? Oh, will you? We will do anything you say, and get up very
early.”
A sight of the rams was worth any promise.