THE TAMING OF CROOKHORN
It was early morning in the latter part of the summer, and the sun was
shining brightly over Hoel Saeter.
Lisbeth was alone inside the fold, milking goats. All was quiet and
peaceful. Not a bell was heard. The only sounds were the gentle rush of
the river far below and an occasional soft thud from the cow house when
a cow bumped her horns against the wall in getting up. The milkmaid was
inside the cow house, milking the cows. Lisbeth's hands were still too
small for that work, so it had been arranged that she should have
entire charge of the goats instead of helping with the larger animals.
Suddenly from the hill above the saeter rang out "Ho-o-i-ho!" and in a
few minutes the call was answered a little farther off with a touch of
irritation in the tone, "Ho-o-i-ho!"
[Illustration: UP AT THE SAETER]
Lisbeth looked up and listened. Then with a smile of happy satisfaction
she went over to the fence and called, "Ho-o-i-ho!" Now she could send
out the tones with vigor, so that they rang back from all the hills
around; her voice no longer trembled when she answered the big boys'
call.
To-day she knew that they were calling especially to summon her, and
that they dared to come close to the saeter with their animals because
they had an errand,--something that they had planned with the milkmaid
and Lisbeth.
By the sound of the bells she could tell that the boys were driving the
animals as fast as they could. The boy that was behind--Peter, of
course--was provoked at not being first.
But, if you please, they would have to wait until she had finished her
work. They were out extremely early to-day!
* * * * *
However strange it may seem, Lisbeth Longfrock, soon after her arrival
at Hoel Saeter, had become a prime favorite with the other herders. The
day after her first painful experiences the boys, as proposed, had met
her behind the hill, Peter first and then Ole. No reference was made to
the previous day; it was merely taken for granted that in future she
would be with them. Ole said that she could look after their animals,
together with her own, while they went off to bathe. Peter thought she
could, too. So she agreed to the arrangement.
But the boys did not play very long on the bank of the pond that day
when they had finished bathing. It was not much fun, after all, to be
down there by themselves.
So it had come to pass that Lisbeth and her animals never came
strolling over the hill in the morning without meeting the boys. They
generally came at nearly the same time, each from the direction of his
own saeter, apparently trying to see who could be the first to give the
call. But when they met each did his best to make out to the other that
he had come there by the merest chance, both sheepishly realizing that
the very evening before they had put on big-boy airs about "that young
one whom they could never get rid of," and had said that they would go
off in an entirely different direction the next day, to avoid her if
possible.
Often the boys would have athletic contests, turning handsprings and
wrestling from one meal-time to another because neither boy was willing
to give up beaten. More than once in a single morning or afternoon
would Lisbeth have to remind them to look after their animals, because,
completely forgotten by the boys, the flocks had strayed nearly out of
sight.
Occasionally it happened that one boy would reach Hoel Saeter ten or
fifteen minutes before the other and would find Lisbeth ready to set
out. In that case the first comer would insist that he and Lisbeth
should start out by themselves, urging that the other boy had probably
gone somewhere else that day. Such times were almost the pleasantest,
Lisbeth thought, for then the one boy had always so much to show her
that the other boy did not know about,--a marshy ledge, white as snow
with cloudberry blossoms, where there would be many, many berries in
the autumn (that ledge they could keep for themselves,--it was not
worth while to let the other boy know about everything they found); or
a ptarmigan nest with thirteen big eggs in it; or a ridge where
scouring rushes[12] grew unusually long and thick.
[12] A species of horsetail rush (_Equisetum hyemale_), having a
rough, flinty surface. It is used for scouring and polishing.
Each boy talked more with her, too, when by himself, and was less
boastful and rough. And the one boy would climb trees and get spruce
gum for her, while she would seek scouring rush for him. Scouring rush
is something that requires a special knack in the one who is to
discover it, and the boys had never seen Lisbeth's equal in spying it
out. Peter said that if there was a single spear growing anywhere, you
might be sure that she would find it; to which Ole jokingly responded
that, for his part, he believed she could find one even where there
wasn't any!
And how many, many things both boys thought of that they could make!
One day when it rained Ole made Lisbeth a hat out of birch bark, and
the next day Peter came with a pair of birch-bark shoes for her. The
milkmaid must have laughed when she saw Lisbeth coming home that second
day wearing the birch-bark hat and shoes, and carrying her ordinary
shoes in her hand. Another day Ole gave her a pocketknife. She ought to
have something to whittle with, he thought, and he did not need that
knife because he had one with a sheath that he always wore in his belt.
The next day Peter brought her a musical horn that he had made in the
evenings from a goat's horn. It had an unusually fine tone. You could
manage to play that funny tune, "Old Woman with a Stick," on it after a
fashion.
Ole speculated a while as to what he could do to beat that, and then he
hit upon an idea,--he would tame Crookhorn!
They had often seen Crookhorn going with the cows as if she were one of
them; and they knew that though she was Lisbeth's own goat there was no
use in trying to make her go with the other goats. The little girl had
told them how impossible it had been to manage the creature at the
farm, and that Kjersti had said the men would have to make an end of
her when winter came.
So Ole offered to tame Crookhorn. He was sure that he could teach her
to go with the others. There had never been a goat yet that had not
been forced to yield when he attempted to master it.
Yes, indeed, Lisbeth was more than willing for him to try. If he
succeeded, she would gladly give him all she owned.
No, Ole did not want any payment for doing it; but if she insisted on
giving him something, he would like the goat's horns after the goat was
slaughtered, as it would have to be some day. They would make matchless
horns to blow upon.
But Peter, too, wanted to have a share in the undertaking. If the goat
proved to be very cross and obstinate, two persons would surely be
needed to tame her. Then they could have one horn apiece.
Ole did not know whether he would agree to that or not, for it was he
who had thought of the plan.
Yes, but how could he carry it out? Peter did not believe that
Crookhorn could be made to go with the other goats unless there was a
stronger goat for her to be fastened to. Ole did not have such a one.
It was Peter who had the big billy goat, the only one strong enough for
the task.
Yes, that was true; so Peter might help in taming Crookhorn if he would
lend his billy goat.
Lisbeth, for her part, thought they ought all to help; that was the
only proper way. And her suggestion was finally followed.
* * * * *
Ole's taming of Crookhorn was the errand that brought the boys to the
Hoel Saeter on the morning that Lisbeth and the milkmaid were doing
their milking so early.
The two flocks came pushing and crowding over the hill; but as soon as
the animals realized that they were to be allowed to go close to the
saeter, they began to run at full speed. It was always such fun to go to
a strange place! They would be sure to find something new to see and to
stick their noses into,--perhaps a little milk stirabout in the pig
trough, a little salt on the salting stone, or a hole in the fence
where one could get a chance to squeeze through without being seen.
The bells clanged, the boys ran about shouting and hallooing and giving
their musical calls, trying to keep the worst goats in order, but
perhaps making a little more noise than was necessary.
Where all had been so still before there was now the liveliest
commotion. The milkmaid could not resist going to the cow-house door to
look out; and Lisbeth would surely have forgotten to milk the last of
her goats if it had not come over to her of its own accord and stood
directly in her way as she was going out of the fold.
When Ole saw the milkmaid at the cow-house door he called out, "Shall
you not let out your cattle soon?"
"Yes; I am just ready to," answered the milkmaid. "Are you ready,
Lisbeth?"
"I am milking my last goat."
Soon everything was done, and the animals stood waiting to be let out.
Ole had with him a strong band woven of willow withes, with an
ingeniously fastened loop at each end. One loop was for Peter's billy
goat, the other for Crookhorn. Ole thought it was a very fine apparatus
indeed.
"Where is Crookhorn?"
"In the cow house."
"Then I had better go in and get her myself. Bring your goat, Peter,
and hold him ready."
Peter called his big billy goat. It knew its name and came at once.
"Let me see how strong you are," said Peter. He took hold of its horns,
held its head down, and pushed against it. The billy goat bunted, took
a fresh start, bunted again,--they often played in this way,--and sent
Peter against the fence.
"There!" exclaimed Peter, picking himself up; "I rather think that
billy goat is strong enough to drag any goat along, no matter how big a
one." Peter fairly glowed with pride.
Ole, too, wanted to try the strength of the goat. Yes, it was an
amazingly strong goat.
Then Ole went into the cow house, and in a few moments came back
leading Crookhorn by the band of willow withes. The next step was to
fasten the other loop around the billy goat's neck, and behold! there
stood the two goats harnessed together. But neither of them seemed to
notice that anything had been done.
Lisbeth and the milkmaid and the boys waited a while expectantly; but
the billy goat rather enjoyed being looked at, and would not budge so
long as they and the flocks were near by. He merely stood still and
wanted to be petted.
So Ole said: "Let your animals out, Lisbeth, and start ours on the
path, Peter. Then we shall see a double-team grazing contest."
Lisbeth opened the gate and her animals crowded out, taking their
customary way up over the hill. Peter drove his own flock and Ole's
after them.
Seeing this, the billy goat thought it was high time for him to be
jogging along, so he took a step forward; but something was the matter.
He looked back. Who was playing tricks and hindering him?
He saw Crookhorn with all four legs planted fast on the ground and her
neck stretched out.
"Pooh! nothing but that," thought the billy goat, taking a couple of
steps forward. Crookhorn found herself obliged to follow, but she laid
her head back and struggled. Then the billy goat gathered all his
force, set his horns high in the air, and tugged at the band. He would
show her that he was not to be kept back by any such foolery!
Crookhorn again found herself obliged to follow, but she resisted and
resisted with all her might. At length her fore legs doubled up under
her and she sank upon her knees; but the billy goat went on as if
nothing had happened, and Crookhorn had to follow on her knees across
the whole flat part of the saeter field.
Lisbeth and the boys shrieked with laughter, and even the milkmaid
found it impossible not to join in.
When Crookhorn reached the beginning of the hill, where the ground was
more uneven, she thought it wiser to get up and trot along on her four
feet; but although she yielded thus far for the sake of her own
comfort, she still continued to struggle against being forced to go at
all.
The animals took the customary path leading farther over the mountain.
Little by little Crookhorn seemed to conclude that she must submit to
the inevitable. During the first part of the morning she was sullen and
contrary, merely allowing herself to be dragged along; but as the day
wore on and her stomach felt empty and slack, she grew more subdued and
began to walk quietly forward, eating as she went like any other
goat,--only looking up once in a while when she heard the heavy cow
bell in the distance.
The fun was gone when Crookhorn took to behaving well, so the boys
began as usual to wrestle and turn somersaults; and this they kept up
until it was nearly time to go home for their nooning. Then Ole said:
"Now let us slip her loose on trial. I think she must be cured by this
time."
Yes, the others agreed to that.
So they called to the billy goat coaxingly. He came jogging along with
his big horns straight up and Crookhorn trailing after him. Ole first
set the billy goat free, and then, kneeling down before Crookhorn, he
took hold of her beard. Crookhorn pawed with her feet as goats do when
they want to get rid of this hold, but Ole would not let go. He wished
to give her a few admonitions first.
Now that she had found her master, he told her, she need no longer
imagine that she was a cow. Hereafter she was to behave like other
goats or she would have him to deal with; and at this he gave her beard
a wag, as if to add force to his words. That hurt Crookhorn, and she
made a bound straight at him and sent him rolling backward. Then,
passing directly over him, with the willow band trailing behind her,
she set out on a trot across the marsh in the direction from which the
sound of the cow bell had come.
Ole scrambled up again, stamped the ground with rage, and started after
her.
Lisbeth and Peter were already on the way. They shouted and screamed as
they ran, and threatened Crookhorn with all sorts of punishments if she
did not stop; but Crookhorn acted as if she did not understand. She
ran, and they after her. The boys became more and more angry. It had
never happened before that they had been unable to capture a goat; and
besides, each boy was eager to get ahead of the other. So they ran
faster and faster. Although Lisbeth Longfrock was light-footed,
especially with her birch-bark shoes[13] on, she lagged behind. It was
like wading in deep water to try to run in that long frock of hers,
which, in the hasty start of the morning, she had forgotten to tuck up
in her belt as usual.
[13] Lisbeth's ordinary shoes were clumsy wooden ones.
Soon she caught a last glimpse of the boys as they disappeared over a
hill on the other side of the marsh. Peter was ahead (she believed he
really was the faster runner of the two). But she herself was only in
the middle of the marsh.
So she stopped. Certainly the best thing that she could do was to go
back and get the animals together; otherwise all three flocks were
likely to stray away.
She turned back, recrossed the marsh, and had climbed the hill a little
way when she heard a rumbling and thudding noise, which grew constantly
louder and louder, while the ground seemed to roll in waves under her
feet. What could it be? Around the foot of the hill came a big herd of
horses[14]--oh, what a big herd! There were horses old and young, and
foals running beside their mothers; horses brown, dun-colored, black,
and white; and all of them were so bright and shiny and fat and
skittish! They trotted and ran, with heads tossing,--those ahead being
passed by others, then those behind getting ahead again,--making a
noise almost like the booming of thunder.
[14] Horses, as well as other animals, are sent up on the
mountains to graze during the summer. They roam about at will,
and sometimes go home of their own accord at the end of the
season, if no one has been sent to fetch them.
Lisbeth stood still and watched them, half afraid. She had never seen
so big a herd before. They noticed her, too, but they did not run at
her at all. Only two or three stopped, pricked up their ears, and gazed
at her, trying to make out what kind of little creature she could be.
Then they ran on again, and in an instant the whole herd had gone past.
Lisbeth could only hear the thunder of their hoofs as they galloped
into the path leading to the saeter.
But her animals! and the boys' flocks! Naturally the horses had
frightened them. Lisbeth could see no trace of them anywhere. She ran
from hill to hill, stopping to listen and then running again.
It was all of no use; she could not find them. The only wise course for
her was to go back to the saeter.
This was the first and only time that Lisbeth Longfrock went home
without taking her animals with her.
But when she reached the saeter there lay the whole flock peacefully
within the fold, chewing the cud. They had gone home of their own
accord. The horses that had given Lisbeth such a fright were there
also, walking about and licking up the salt which the milkmaid had
strewn for them.
In the afternoon the milkmaids from the other saeters came to inquire
after the boys, for their goats had also come home of themselves long
before the usual time.
It was not until much later that Ole and Peter arrived, dragging
Crookhorn between them.
When the milkmaids laughed at them the boys could not help feeling a
little chagrined. That they had let their flocks stray away could not
be denied; but no one could say that they had come home without any
animal at all,--although two big boys _did_ seem a rather liberal
number to be in charge of a single goat, however large that goat might
be.
Things had gone wrong for that day, Ole acknowledged; but Crookhorn was
not to think that she had seen the end of the struggle. They would take
her with them again the next day. She should get her deserts.
But it turned out otherwise. Crookhorn knew better than to let such a
thing happen. When they took off the willow band she stood still awhile
with her neck stretched up, looking at the horses which were at that
moment going out of the inclosure. Suddenly she kicked up her hind legs
in real horse fashion, and then away she went after the herd as fast as
she could go.
The milkmaids, as well as the boys, could do nothing but stand and gape
when they saw her join the horses.
"Probably she imagines now that she is a horse," thought they.
For a while they stood in silence watching the receding herd. Then Ole
said in his dry fashion, "If there had been any elephants here, it
would have been just like Crookhorn to imagine herself an elephant."