Let them go then, and have a good time. What did they care about his
troubles? They didn’t have a brother out on the stormy sea and a worried
family at home. Let them go, and see if he cared! But he did care,
tremendously. There was a lump in his throat he couldn’t swallow.
Bergel passed his seat and touched his shoulder gently. He shrugged off
her hand, but she slid it down toward his and left a piece of paper
there. He acted as if he didn’t see it, for he was hurt and disappointed
and angry. Probably just a note saying he should have been more careful.
He wouldn’t even look at it.
The shouting and laughter died away at last, and Arne looked gloomily
down at his books. He felt more like crying than doing exercises. But of
course he was too big to do a thing like that. If only Herr Engstrand
had given him anything but English grammar to do! He must know how Arne
disliked that. Arithmetic, now—he could have got that done in a hurry and
maybe he could have caught up with the others. But English grammar! And
two long exercises! He’d never get those done.
Suddenly he remembered another trip up the mountain—the summer trip,
when he had thought he would have to stay home to bale _lutfisk_. With
Gustav’s help, he had got that job done in time to go with the others.
No one was here to help him now, but perhaps he could get this job done
himself and follow the others. His usual hopefulness began to come to his
rescue. Herr Engstrand hadn’t said he couldn’t come on the trip. He had
only said he must finish the exercises before he left.
Arne turned to his books in earnest, now. He knew how to do that first
sentence, anyway. Maybe this wasn’t such a hard exercise, after all. He
was half through it, his spirits rising as he worked, when his hopes fell
again. He didn’t know the way to the Utvig saeter, and he was well enough
acquainted with mountains to realize that a snowy day in December was no
time to strike out on unfamiliar ways.
He gave a deep sigh and turned back to his work. No use to try to get it
done fast. It didn’t matter when he finished. But he went doggedly on,
and a sudden thought came to him. Bergel had certainly looked as if she
wanted to tell him something. He picked up the note, his face brightening
as he read: “Utvig saeter is above ours. Go up the Ahlness trail, then
take the left fork where there are three saeter cabins.” She had even
scrawled a little map. With fresh energy, Arne bent to his lesson.
The schoolroom clock had ticked an hour away when the boy laid his
exercises on Herr Professor’s desk. He put on his skis, settled his
knapsack on his back, and set off on his trip up the mountain through the
falling snow.
The boy felt confident and light-hearted as he hastened up toward his
uncle’s saeter. Though the familiar landmarks looked different in their
winter dress, he could recognize them without difficulty. He knew he was
making better time alone than the others could in a large company. As he
sped along he began to hope he might overtake them, or at least get there
in time to help bring in the greens.
The snow, which fell heavily at first, began to slacken a little. He
managed to go along at a steady pace, but it seemed a long time before he
came out where Uncle Jens’s cabin faced the fjord. The little log house
looked forlorn with all its windows boarded over for winter, and Arne
was anxious to hurry on. Far out at sea he could detect the faint light
of a ship. He wondered if it could possibly be the _Stjerne_.
The snow had stopped now, and strong winds blew in steadily from the
sea. Dusk had closed in, and Arne shivered as he stood there, not sure
how to go ahead. “Take the Ahlness trail,” Bergel’s note had said. There
was more than one path zigzagging about up here, he knew, but as far as
he could remember, there was only one good trail that led way up the
mountain. That must be the one. Those folks up there ahead must have left
plenty of tracks. But he had difficulty in finding them because of the
drifting snow. At last, however, with the aid of his flashlight, he did
manage to find some traces.
If only Bergel had said how far it was! It seemed to Arne that the way
was much longer than he had expected it to be. Though he got out his
flashlight often, he didn’t see anything of three saeter cabins in a
cluster, to say nothing of a fork in the trail. The way was very steep in
places, and he did wish those tracks were plainer.
And now he had come to a place where the snow was so drifted he couldn’t
see any tracks at all. He was uncertain what to do, which way to take,
and almost wished he had never started on this difficult journey alone.
Then he looked up toward the mountain top, and just above it, where
the wind had ripped the clouds apart, he saw one bright star shining.
Christmas star again, thought Arne, and felt a little better. He pressed
on and at last came to the three small houses. Now for the fork in the
trail!
But he could not make out any tracks in the drifted snow, and there
didn’t seem to be any real trail, though there was a break in the bushes
here. He’d start that way. But he hadn’t gone far when he was brought
up short by a great boulder in the way. This certainly could not be the
trail. He went back and started again, but this time a thicket of bushes
blocked the path. Perhaps, after all, he had come the wrong way. Perhaps
those three cabins were not the ones Bergel had meant. His heart was
thumping. What if he was lost in these mountains?
He stood there straining his eyes in the gray darkness. If only he could
catch some gleam of the campfire! He could see no sign of light on the
dark mountain, but as he stood, trying to think of something he could do,
a familiar sound came down to him—a long-drawn blast that could only
come from a saeter horn. Someone was certainly sending him a signal, and
he felt sure it was Bergel.
Arne stood still, trying to determine just where that call had come from.
As he waited, it came again, over and over. The star would be a good
guide now, for the horn’s blast had come from exactly that direction.
Now, a little to the left, he found a way through the thicket; with the
help of the horn and of his bright star, he forged steadily ahead.
At last, to his great relief and delight, he caught sight of a glimmer of
light above him. Soon he began to hear voices in the distance—faint at
first, then louder. Now he could hear calls and shouts and laughter and
bits of song, and above all, the sound of the horn.
In a few moments the full brightness of the campfire burst upon him. He
saw people scurrying about; but one small, valiant figure caught his eye
and warmed his heart. It was Bergel, standing in the firelight, the long
saeter horn at her lips. She blew a blast that Arne felt must be heard
clear down at Nordheim, and he almost felt like giving her a hug. Instead
he skied silently to her side and stood there grinning. “Calling someone,
Bergel?” he asked.
“Arne!” she cried, and threw both arms around him. “Oh, I was so worried!
I knew you’d try to come, and then it snowed so hard for a while, and
drifted so, and you didn’t know the way. How did you ever manage to find
it?” Her tone showed plainly that she considered that quite a feat.
[Illustration]
“Well, you helped,” said Arne. He slipped away from her embrace, but his
voice was gentle. “And then I guess the Christmas star helped, too.” He
nodded to where the bright star shone among drifting clouds.
“You see! Isn’t that a good sign?” said Bergel triumphantly. “And now
you’re in time to help with the greens, Arne. The boys have gone up there
just a little ways. Got your hunting knife?”
“Do you suppose I’d come up here without it?” asked Arne. But he smiled
at her, and she smiled back before she turned to help with the supper.
Everyone was glad to see Arne, though nobody said much about it. He
pulled his silver-handled hunting knife from the sheath at his belt and
was soon in the thick of the work, helping cut branches and put them in
bundles.
In spite of himself, his respect for Herr Professor Engstrand increased
as he watched him directing and helping. The teacher had obtained
permission to take what they needed, and seemed to know exactly how to go
about getting it. When he climbed easily up a big tree, Arne could hardly
believe his eyes. Was this the same dignified man who didn’t seem to be
interested in anything but books and lessons and keeping order?
Eager to do his part now that he was here, Arne went right up to a
treetop to get some specially fine branches with clusters of cones. When
he came nimbly down, he saw, with some dismay, that the other boys had
gone on and that only Herr Engstrand was at hand. He was probably in for
a good scolding now, but surely Herr Professor wouldn’t send him home
when he had toiled so hard to get up here alone.
Arne started to run after the other boys, but the teacher took two or
three long strides, laid a hand on his shoulder, and turned him around.
“Just a minute, my boy,” he said. “I have something to say to you.”
Arne’s heart seemed to go right down into his boots. “Yes, sir,” he
managed to mumble. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but I—well, I did
my exercises first, and I didn’t think you said—” His voice trailed
miserably off.
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t come,” said the teacher in a matter-of-fact
tone. “In fact, I hoped you would, though I didn’t feel I could encourage
you to do so, in view of the weather and the distance. Of course I know
it takes more than a snowstorm to keep a Norwegian boy off a mountain. In
fact, people say mountains and snow are all a Norwegian needs for fun.
But I didn’t think you knew the way here.”
“I didn’t really, but—” Arne began and then stopped short, uncertain and
embarrassed. He certainly could not tell Herr Professor about Bergel’s
note. How could he explain?
Herr Engstrand was going on, “But your cousin told me—” He stopped so
long that Arne looked up and, to his great surprise, saw that his teacher
was smiling a little. “She is a conscientious little girl, as well as a
good pupil, and I think she felt she might not have done right. And then,
too, I think she began to get worried about you. So she told me about
leaving you the note. And I’ll admit we were all a little anxious when
you did not arrive.”
“Those grammar exercises,” said Arne, with a gusty sigh. “They took quite
a while. But who thought of the saeter horn? That was a life-saver.”
“It was Bergel who thought of that, and Froken Utvig found it for her.
Bergel told me something else, Arne. She told me why you had been late
those times. I should have been glad if you had told me yourself.”
“You would?” exclaimed Arne in astonishment, and added, with complete
honesty, “I never thought of that.”
Herr Engstrand dropped his hand from Arne’s shoulder. “I see,” was all he
said, but his voice made Arne think of the way he himself sometimes felt
when he tried very hard to do something and did not succeed.
That tone made Arne want to mend matters, and he hurried on, “I didn’t
know you’d be interested, but I guess you are. So I want to tell you why
I was late this noon. Bergel didn’t know about that. I saw a ship way out
in the storm and I thought it might be Gustav’s. And from Uncle Jens’s
saeter I could still see the lights of a ship a good ways out.”
“I see,” Herr Engstrand said again. But this time his tone was quite
different. “A ship would have a hard time making port in a sea like this.”
Arne looked up at him in alarm. “Oh, Herr Professor Engstrand!” he
exclaimed. “Do you suppose—what if Gustav’s ship got nearly home only to
be dashed to pieces on the rocks?”
“Of course the chances are it was not the _Stjerne_ at all,” said Herr
Engstrand. His voice was thoughtful.
“Oh, I wish that wind would go down,” said Arne fervently. “There aren’t
even any stars out, now.”
“Well, Arne, these Norwegian skippers know our coast pretty well, don’t
forget that. And from what I hear, Captain Olsen is a fine navigator.
Come, Bergel is blowing the horn again. That is the signal for supper.”
Arne gathered with the others around the great fire piled high in the
kitchen fireplace. Froken Utvig and the girls had scrubbed a long
table, laid a bright cloth over it, and spread it with gaily-decorated
sandwiches and cakes. Everyone was hungry and ready for the good food and
the singing.
There were Christmas songs first, and folk songs followed. Then everyone
stood to sing the national anthem:
“_Yes, we love with fond devotion_
_Norway’s mountain domes,_
_Rising storm-lashed o’er the ocean_
_With their thousand homes._”
“‘Storm-lashed’ is right,” thought Arne. But he loved the fine old
anthem, just as the others did, and joined in the singing with all his
heart.
“I think those songs all but lifted the roof,” said Froken Utvig,
smiling. “But now, as it is still snowy and drifting, and the wind is
strong, we had better start home.”
Everyone hurried about—putting out the fire, getting things in order.
Arne was as busy as anyone, but he couldn’t help thinking about the
_Stjerne_. What if she was tossing about out there, very close to the
rocky shore, driven by the wind? What if Gustav should be almost in port,
only to have his ship go down tonight?
His face was troubled as he bent to fasten his skis, but he looked up
quickly as Herr Professor came over to him and said, “Arne, I want you
to help me with some of these greens. Can you carry a load as big as
this, do you think? We’ll fasten it on your back if you can.”
Ordinarily Arne would have been proud of such a request, for the load
was a large one. But tonight he had planned to rush ahead with all speed
and see if it could be possible that his brother’s ship had come in. He
couldn’t make much time with such a load. But he could do nothing but
answer, “Yes, sir, I can.”
“Good boy,” said Herr Engstrand. “Now, Arne, I want you to stay behind
with me just a little. I have one or two things to do.”
“Yes, sir,” said Arne, but his disappointment showed so plainly that Herr
Professor said, “What is it, boy?”
“It’s my brother’s ship, sir,” said Arne, in a low tone. “I thought she
might have come in. I wanted to—”
“Yes, yes, I see. Well, Arne, that’s why I want you to stay behind. An
idea has occurred to me—a way you and I may be able to help your brother.
I have told Froken Utvig to let some of the big boys guide the party.”
“Yes, sir,” said Arne again, but this time he was thoroughly puzzled. How
could he and Herr Engstrand up here on the mountain possibly be of any
help to Gustav out there on the stormy sea?
[Illustration]
7
There was a good deal of laughter as the boys divided the greens and
arranged the loads on their backs. Then away they went, singing and
shouting, the girls insisting on carrying some of the smaller branches
with especially fine cones.
How Arne wished that he could be a member of the merry group! He wanted
to get down to Nordheim fast, and it seemed to him that Herr Engstrand
was taking a good deal of time over things that were not necessary.
But once the others were out of sight, the teacher said, “Now, Arne, full
speed ahead down to your uncle’s saeter. The wind is getting higher. It
feels to me as if it’s going to snow again, and we’ve got work to do, you
and I.”
Arne was more puzzled than ever. What work could they possibly have to do
up here? But Herr Engstrand was skiing down the mountain with a speed
that Arne found hard to follow. When he reached Uncle Jens’s saeter, Herr
Engstrand was already there, playing his flashlight all around the little
clearing.
From the high point near the cliff, the boy could see lights moving out
on the open sea leading to the fjord. “Looks as if a ship’s in trouble
out there,” he said anxiously. “Are we going on down, sir?”
“No, here’s where we stop, Arne. Let us make a big fire, you and I, and
keep it going to give a signal to that ship. They can tell from the
height that this is the cliff, and if I’m not mistaken, they’ll know the
harbor is below here.”
“Oh, that’s the plan!” exclaimed Arne. It was such a good one, and yet so
simple, he wondered why he hadn’t thought of it himself. Neither of them
said much; but they worked fast, and a fire was soon started near the
edge of the cliff.
“Now, Arne,” said Herr Engstrand, “we will pile our boughs on this and
make a big blaze right away while we collect more.”
“So that’s why you wanted me to take such a big load!” said Arne. “And
you took a lot more than I did, even.”
“I wanted to get this thing going right away. There!” He threw his bundle
on the fire. “Pitch yours on, Arne.”
Arne threw his pine boughs on and watched with satisfaction as they burst
into a great blaze.
“Now we must collect plenty of fuel, Arne. I have my small hatchet, of
course. And you have your hunting knife. We must keep this fire burning
high and bright. Then we’ll watch to see what happens out there.”
Arne did a good deal of thinking as he dragged in branches and twigs.
This wasn’t a bit like the Herr Professor who had been so stern and
strict and had seemed interested only in lessons. This was really
smart—like something Gustav himself might have thought of. He’d like
to tell Herr Professor so, but even now he could not quite get up his
courage to do that. But when they had collected a large pile of wood and
were standing by the fire watching those lights out at sea, he did manage
to ask, “Herr Professor, how did you happen to think of doing this?”
“Well, Arne, I was a commando in the war,” Herr Engstrand said quietly.
“A commando!” gasped Arne.
“Yes. We learned to think of all sorts of ways to do things in
emergencies. More than once we guided a vessel safely to port just this
way.”
“A commando! That’s what Gustav wanted to be. But he wasn’t quite old
enough. He says they learned everything, just about.”
“Well, we did learn a lot of things. For one thing, we learned to obey
orders fast and to the letter.” He paused for a moment and went on,
more as if he were thinking aloud than speaking to his companion, “But
schoolboys aren’t commandos, and I don’t suppose you can expect—” He
broke off and looked at Arne with a quizzical expression.
Arne was standing very straight, his eyes eager and alert as he looked
back at Herr Engstrand. “Oh, sir, but I think you can expect us to—” He
stopped as if he had just remembered something. “From now on,” he said
emphatically, “I’m sure you can expect that.”
“I believe I can, Arne,” said Herr Professor.
His voice was serious; but it was friendly, too, and now Arne did not
find it very hard to muster courage to say, “All the boys would like to
know about your being a commando. The girls, too. Couldn’t you—wouldn’t
you tell them about that? We’d all be interested.”
“You would?” In the firelight, Arne could see that his teacher was
smiling a little. “I had an idea school was for lessons. But maybe there
are several kinds of lessons. And now, Arne, up and at ’em. More wood!”
Arne rushed off, but this time he had new hope. He was working with
a commando! And the commandos had got out of all sorts of dangerous
situations. Herr Engstrand seemed confident that Captain Olsen and Gustav
would do the same thing and bring the _Stjerne_ in safely.
Each time they returned to the fire, they stopped to watch the ship
struggling out there against the wind. Then they dashed back to work
harder than ever. It was not easy to collect enough fuel in the snow, but
both of them worked with a will.
At last Arne said hopefully, “I think she’s making progress out there,
sir.”
“Yes, looks as if she’s making for the channel. Come on, Arne. We have to
keep the fire high and bright now.”
When they returned the next time, Arne gave a great shout. “She’s coming
in! She’s coming in! Oh, if she can just hold her course, she’ll be safe.”
“Yes, she’s making headway all right. Looks as if it could be the
_Stjerne_, Arne.”
Arne fairly flew off to get more wood, his heart beating so hard he
couldn’t even talk. This time, when they came back to the fire, there
was no doubt about it. “She’s past the barrier now, and moving into the
channel,” said Herr Professor.
“Oh, Herr Professor!” Arne shouted, and in his exuberance he snatched
off his cap and threw it so high it almost came down in the fire. “It’s
Gustav’s ship! It’s Gustav’s ship, safe and sound. I know it is.”
“How would you like to start down, Arne, and be there on the dock to
greet your brother? Everybody will be there, and I know you’d like to be
on hand with the others.”
“Oh, boy!” cried Arne joyfully. “Oh, boy!” But then he looked quickly at
the teacher. “But we couldn’t leave the fire, could we? They still need
it, don’t they? This is about as important a time as any, isn’t it?”
“Yes, we have to keep it going till we’re sure they’re safe. But I could
manage to tend it alone now, if you’d like to get started down.”
Arne hesitated just a moment. He wanted dreadfully to be right down there
on the dock when the _Stjerne_ came in. But then he shook his head. “No,”
he said. “One commando would never walk out on another. I’m going to help
keep this fire going.”
“Good boy, Arne. I think your brother would like that,” said Herr
Professor. There was an expression of such approval and pleasure on his
face that Arne’s cheeks flamed and he looked away, feeling very happy.
“We’ll both work hard, then; and we’re pretty fast on our skis. We’ll go
down a lot faster than we came up. The ship won’t beat us in by much.”
In the very midst of gathering his next load of wood, Arne stopped and
laughed right out loud. “I’ve thought of something, Herr Professor!”
he cried. “I’ve thought of how I can get down there fast—just like a
commando. We can keep the fire going as long as necessary, and I can
still beat the ship to the dock.”
“And how are you going to do that, Arne?”
“I can go right down the wires Uncle Jens arranged to let the milk and
stuff down the cliff. Gustav did that last summer when he saw Torger
Blessom’s boat overturned.” He hesitated a moment. “I was wishing then I
had the nerve to do it.”
“And now you have!” said Herr Professor with a nod. “You’ll need rope for
that, Arne.”
“Yes, there’s one up here. I know where it’s kept. And can’t we sort of
bundle me up in greens, a little?”
“Yes, and you’ll need something more than mittens to put on your hands
to keep them from getting cut.”
“Yes, Gustav wound a lot of cloth around his, I remember that. And I know
where Aunt Tina keeps some rags we can use. One good thing—there’s plenty
of snow at the foot of the cliff; so I should make a good landing.”
Herr Engstrand laughed. “Arne, I see plainly you’ve got the makings of
a first-rate commando!” he said. “You’ve got good Viking blood. Your
brother is going to be proud of you. We’ll send you right down those
wires to welcome him, all right.”
“She’s coming in! She’s coming in, Herr Professor! Here she comes, the
Christmas _Star_! She doesn’t look very big, way down there!”
“No, we usually think of a Christmas star high above us in the heavens,
instead of far below us on the water,” said Herr Professor.
“I guess a Christmas star isn’t out of place anywhere, is it?” said Arne.
“The _Stjerne_ is sure going to look good to us in that harbor. We won’t
need to bring in many more loads now, will we?”
The fire on the cliff blazed high, and the two worked fast to keep it
replenished. The ship came closer and closer to port; and at last Herr
Engstrand said, “They don’t need our fire any more, Arne. The lights of
the town will be enough. Now we’ll get you ready, and down you go!”
Both of them worked fast to get Arne ready for his journey down. Herr
Engstrand made sure the rope was safe and strong before he tied the loop
in which Arne was to sit. Soon the boy was bundled up in greens, his
hands well wrapped. Herr Professor settled him securely in the rope sling.
“I’ll hold as tight as I can at first,” he said. “But once you get going,
you’ll have a fast ride. Ready now? Here you go, down the wires to meet
the Christmas _Star_!”
“Ready!” Arne managed to say, but his mouth was dry, and when he tried to
swallow it seemed to him his heart was right up in his throat. The lights
of Nordheim looked far, far below him.
Then Herr Professor gave him a little push and started him downward. Arne
knew his teacher was holding the rope as firmly as possible, but the
sling went in jerks along the wires. Probably they were rusty. What if
they should break? The rope, too! It had been used all summer long. It
might be a little frayed. What if it should break, with all this jerking?
Then he remembered how Gustav had thrown his weight first one way and
then another to steady his progress. He tried to do the same now, and he
began to go faster and more smoothly.