the wolves with lifted ax. When he came within seven or eight feet
distance from them, the greylegs got frightened and sneaked, tail
between the legs, far into the dark forest, but the fourth one, who
lay on top of Allarm, hated to give up his prey. It was a large yellow
wolf. He looked up at Viggo and showed his bloody teeth. But Viggo only
thought of the dog's danger. "Let go of Allarm. Let go of my dog or
I'll teach you!" he cried and swung the axe high above his head. Then
greylegs thought he had better not try the game and sneaked slowly away
after the others. He turned once and howled and showed his teeth, and
then he disappeared between the white bushes.
[Illustration: "Let go of my dog or I'll teach you!"]
Far down in a hole in the snow lay Allarm. He was so bitten that he
could not jump to his feet and, when Viggo lifted him, the blood
dripped down on the white snow. His whole body shivered and shook like
an aspen leaf, but he licked Viggo's hand.
Just then Old Hans the Grenadier stood by Viggo's side. When he had
gained his breath after his hurried run, the old man cried very
angrily, "If I did what you deserve I should have to whip you, you
little cub. Shame on you! Do you think it fit for a youngster like you
to rush against a pack of wolves? If they had eaten you up alive before
you had a chance to make a sound, what would you have said then?"
"Then I would have said, 'One thing is a shame, and that is to turn
your back before "retreat" is called,'" said Viggo, and looked sharply
at the Grenadier.
"Well said, my boy! The nose has not quite the right curve yet, but the
eyes are there, and I do believe the heart too," said Old Hans. He took
the dog from Viggo and went home with both of them.
Part Six
The Black Pond
"Hurrah, the Black Pond is frozen. The ice is more than an inch thick,
and there's a crowd of boys down there!" shouted one of Viggo's
classmates one Sunday morning, as he thrust his frost covered head
through the door and swung his skates. I dare say it didn't take Viggo
long before he got his skates down from the nail, and as soon as he had
got permission from his father, he ran off with his friend. And what do
you think, he was so anxious to get down to the lake, that he forgot to
whistle for Allarm.
But Allarm had a fine nose. Just as soon as he had swallowed his
breakfast he understood that Viggo was gone. Then he ran out switching
his tail and hunting through the yard for Viggo's trail, and when he
noticed that it didn't lead to the school he knew he might follow. Then
he rushed madly after him over the fields, and had caught up with him
long before Viggo had reached the cottage of Hans the Grenadier, which
lay close by the lake.
One thing Viggo had promised his father before he got permission to go,
and that was that he should be very careful and not skate far out from
the shore. His father knew that the ice was safe along the shore, but
that near the middle of the lake there was an air hole through which
warm air rose to the surface, and there the ice was never thick.
And Viggo meant honestly to do what his father had told him, but now
you shall hear what happened.
When he came to the lake there was a crowd of boys there, big ones and
little ones, from all the farms and cottages round about. There must
have been twenty or more. Most of them had skates on but some only
slid on the ice. And Viggo could see that they had been in just as
great hurry as he to get down on the ice, for some had run off without
caps and some without mittens, but they did not notice the cold. They
shouted and laughed so that you could not hear yourself think.
As soon as Viggo had put on his skates he began to look around in the
crowd. Most of the boys he knew, for he had raced with them before and
knew he could beat every one of them. But there was one boy who skated
about by himself and seemed not to care about the others. He was much
bigger than Viggo, almost half grown, and Viggo saw immediately that
it would not be easy to beat him in a race. The boys called him Peter
Lightfoot and the name fitted him. Peter crossed his arms and swung
around on one leg. He could do the corkscrew, skate backwards as
easily as forwards, and lie so low and near the ice that he might have
kissed it. And this he did as easily and neatly as one turns around on
the parlor floor. But all this Viggo could do too.
"Can you write your initials?" asked Viggo. Yes, Peter Lightfoot stood
on one leg and wrote _=PL=_ in the ice, but the letters hung together.
Then Viggo started. He ran, turned himself around backwards and wrote
_=P L=_ and between the P and the L he made a short jump so that the
letters stood apart.
"Hurrah for Viggo! He wrote Peter Lightfoot backwards," shouted the
boys and threw up their caps. Then the big boy blushed crimson, but he
said nothing and tried to laugh.
Now they began to play "Fox and Geese," and everybody wanted Viggo to
be the fox. Peter wanted to play too, for he was sure that Viggo could
not catch him; he was indeed much bigger and stronger. The race course
was scratched in the ice and Viggo called, "Out, out, my geese," and
off they ran. But Viggo didn't care to run after the little goslings,
it was the big gander, Peter Lightfoot, he wished to catch. And that
was a game! Off they went, Peter in front and Viggo after him, so that
the wind whistled around them, back and forth in corners and circles,
and all the other boys stopped and looked on. Every time Viggo was
right at his heels, Peter jumped and was far ahead of the fox again.
But at last Viggo had him cornered, but just as he would have caught
the goose, Peter stretched out his left leg and meant to trip Viggo,
but his skate caught in a frozen twig and--thump! there lay Peter
Lightfoot, the ice cracking all around him.
"A good thing he wasn't made of glass," laughed the boys and crowded
around Peter. He got up and looked angrily around the circle of boys.
"Now stand in a row, we'll jump," said he, and the boys did. They piled
hats and caps on top of each other, first only three high. The whole
row jumped that, then four, then five, then six, but each time fewer
got over and those who pushed the top cap off with their skates had to
stop playing and must stand aside and look on. At last there were eight
hats and caps on top of each other, and now only Peter and Viggo were
left to jump.
"Put your cap on top!" said Peter, and Viggo did. But all the boys
called and shouted, one louder than the other, that no one could ever
make that jump.
Now Peter came so fast that the air whistled about him, jumped--and
whiff! he was over! He touched Viggo's cap the least little bit, but it
did not fall off the pile.
"Hurrah for Peter! That was a masterly jump!" shouted the boys. "Viggo
can never do that, he is too small," said one. Allarm seemed to be of
the same opinion; he whined and cried and ran in front of Viggo's legs
as if he wanted to hinder him. Viggo knew this was the test, and his
heart beat fast. He chased the dog away roughly and ran with all his
might. Just as he came running fast as the wind ready for the jump
Peter called suddenly "Stop, Stop," but Viggo was not the one to be
confused at that; he flew over like a bird and there was at least four
inches between his skates and the topmost cap. Then the boys crowded
around him and shouted that Viggo was the champion; there wasn't a boy
who could come up to him. But Peter Lightfoot looked at him with a sly
and evil eye, and you could see he was planning to play a trick on him.
And indeed, that's what he did.
After a little while Peter took an apple out of his pocket and rolled
it over the ice toward the airhole. "The one who dares go for the apple
may keep it!" he called. And many dared to try that, for the apple
had not rolled far and the ice was strong enough. Now Peter threw an
apple farther out, someone got that too. But at last he rolled one that
stopped right on the edge of the open water. One boy after the other
ran out toward it, but when the ice began to crack they slowly turned
around again.
"Don't do it, it is dangerous!" shouted Viggo.
"Oh, yes, Viggo is great when things are easy, but if there is danger
he turns pale as a ghost," said Peter and laughed aloud.
This was more than Viggo could bear. He thought of what the Prince of
Augustenburg had said before the front, and he thought he must fetch
the apple, come what might. But he forgot that "retreat" had been
called, for his father had forbidden him to go near the hole. Allarm
looked at him with grave eyes and wagged his tail slowly, he did not
dare to whine, for he had just been scolded. But that did not help.
Viggo ran so that the wind whistled about his ears, and when he had
gotten out over the ice some distance he made himself light and let the
skates glide of themselves so that he should not fall through. The ice
bent under his feet and cracked, but he glided on and on, and the ice
did not break. Now he was close by the apple, he bent down to pick it
up--crash! the ice broke, and Viggo, head first, fell in.
In a minute Viggo's cap floated up by the edge of the ice. Viggo seemed
to have lost consciousness in the icy water, but it was not long before
his head appeared above the hole. He swam for the ice and seized the
edge, but a piece broke off every time he tried to climb up.
At first the boys stood there dumb with fright. Then they all called to
him that he must try to hold on, but no one dared to help him and no
one thought of running for help. Peter Lightfoot had sneaked away when
Viggo fell in.
The best one of them all was Allarm. First he ran yelping around the
hole, but when he saw Viggo appear again he snatched his wet cap
between his teeth and as fast as an arrow he ran towards home. When
he reached the cottage of Hans the Grenadier the old soldier was just
standing in the open doorway. The dog put Viggo's stiff frozen cap at
his feet, whined and cried, jumped up on the old man, held on to his
coat and dragged him towards the ice. Hans understood right away what
was the matter, snatched a rope and ran towards the lake, and in no
time he stood by the hole. He threw the rope to Viggo, who had begun to
grow stiff from the icy bath, and pulled him out.
Viggo ran as fast as he could to the cottage of Hans, and when he
reached the door he had an armor of shining ice over his whole body.
When the Grenadier pulled off his trousers they could stand by
themselves on the floor; they were frozen stiff.
Viggo, of course, had to change from top to toe, and what should he put
on? Hans went to his old chest and came back with his uniform. Viggo
looked rather queer, the yellow knee trousers reached to his ankles,
and the red coat with yellow cuffs and lapels hung on him like a bag.
But he was wearing a real uniform! Hans looked at him. "Well," he said,
"I won't say much about the fit of the clothes, but who knows you may
wear a better looking uniform some day. The heart is of the right
kind, and the nose--well it is doing better."
--_From the Norwegian by Jörgen Moe._
Bikku Matti
On a wooded hillside stood a little cabin. It had but one window and
this was so small that, when the round, fair, curly head of a little
boy appeared in it, the whole window was filled. Some years ago there
had been a brick chimney and the walls had been painted red. At that
time the cabin and a little potato field were fenced in neatly. But now
it all looked poor, very poor. The smoke escaped through a hole in the
turf roof and the fence had fallen to pieces long ago. In this place
lived an old blind soldier and his wife. They could not work in the
field to make their living; but the old man earned a little money by
tying nets; the old woman made a few brooms; the church gave them each
year three barrels of rye for bread, and thus they managed to live.
Four or five years ago a young and hard-working couple lived with the
old people. Then they all had enough and to spare. But one Sunday
morning, the large church boat that carried the people of the parish to
church was overturned by a sudden squall, and both the young man and
his wife, with many others, were lost in the waves. The old people had
stayed at home that day, the old man because he was blind and his wife
in order to take care of a little baby.
So the old couple remained there with their sorrow, their poverty and
a little grandchild. For the young couple had left a little boy whose
name was Matti; because he was so little they called him Bikku Matti.
Those who don't understand Finnish will have to guess what the name
means.
Bikku had cheeks as red and round as an apple, clear, blue eyes and
hair as yellow as gold, the only gold to be found in the cabin. It was
Bikku's round face which often filled the cottage window when anything
passed on the road.
If you happen to come that way in Summer, you will see a gate across
the road close to the cottage. You will have to stop your carriage,
unless some one comes to open the gate.
But just wait a little, Bikku Matti will soon be there. There he is in
the cabin door. How he runs to reach the gate in time, with his golden
hair streaming in the wind. Now he is at the gate. If you have a penny,
throw it to him, he rather expects it; but let it be a shiny one--he
does not know the value of money and a penny, if bright and new, gives
him as much pleasure as a silver coin. But take care not to throw your
coin on the road before the horse and carriage have passed the gate;
Bikku Matti has but little sense yet, and if he sees the bright penny
in the road, he is likely to throw himself over it, allowing the gate
to shut right in front of your horse.
On week-days Bikku Matti had only coarse bread and herring to eat, but
on Sundays he had potatoes and sour milk. Still, on such food he throve
and grew rounder and rounder as the years went by. He could not read
much--some prayers and the ten commandments was about all.
But then Matti could do other things. He could stand on his head and
turn somersaults where the grass was soft. He could skip stones over
the smooth lake, while the grandmother was washing his shirt. He could
drive a horse on the main road and ride the neighbor's horse to the
watering trough, if someone walked beside him. He could tell the tracks
of the blue-jay from those of the crow on the new-fallen snow, and wolf
tracks he knew well. He could carve a boat or a sled out of chips of
wood and could make horses and cows of pine cones with small twigs for
legs. But, although Bikku possessed all these powers (and they were
many for a small boy like Bikku), there were some necessary things he
did not possess--he had no trousers. This may seem very strange to
you, but it was after all not so strange. His grandparents were very
poor, and then it was customary in that neighborhood for little boys
to go about in plain cotton slips as Bikku did. But this was only
on week-days; on Sundays the other boys were dressed in blouses and
trousers. It was only Bikku who neither Sunday nor Monday wore anything
but the little slip. But for a long time he did not know that trousers
were a necessary piece of garment for a little boy. But see what
happened.
One Sunday morning when the whole parish were to meet at the beach to
go to church, Bikku declared that he was going too. "That will never
do, dear child," said Grandmother.
"Why not?" asked Bikku Matti.
"You have no trousers." Bikku became very serious.
"I might have an old skirt to lend you," said Grandmother, "but then
everybody would take you for a girl."
"But I am not a girl, I am a man," said Bikku Matti.
"Of course you are," said Grandmother. "A man is a man, be he no larger
than a thumb. Stay nicely at home, Bikku dear." And Bikku remained at
home that time.
But soon after that there was to be a Fair in the valley, a Horse Fair,
and Bikku loved horses better than anything else in the world. He knew
they would be there--black, white and brown ones. And there would be a
Punch and Judy show, a merry-go-round, and many more wonderful things.
Bikku Matti had heard the boys tell great tales about all these things,
and now Bikku said that he must go to the Fair.
"It won't do, dear child," said Grandmother again.
"Why not?" asked Bikku Matti.
"There will be many people there, my dear, and you cannot go without
trousers."
Bikku Matti struggled with himself a while, and Punch and Judy danced
before his eyes. At last he said, "If Grandmother would lend me her
skirt?"
"Here it is," said Grandmother, and laughed to herself when the little
boy stumbled on the kitchen floor in the skirt. "But you look like a
girl," she said.
"If I look like a girl, I won't go," said Bikku Matti. "I am no girl,
I am a man."
"Well, you do look like a girl," said Grandmother, "but you might tell
everybody whom you meet that you are a man."
"That's what I will do," thought Bikku Matti, and so he started off.
On the road he met a strange gentleman who stopped and said, "Little
girl, can you tell me the way to the Fair?"
"I am no girl, I am a man," said Bikku Matti.
"You don't look like a man," said the stranger.
Bikku Matti made no answer, but when he reached the Fair he called out
so that all could hear him, "I only look like a girl, but I am a man."
Men and women laughed out loud. Boys and girls gathered about Bikku
Matti, clapped their hands and cried, "Oh, look at little Mary, where
did you get your pretty clothes?"
"It's Grandmother's skirt, and not mine," said Bikku Matti. "I am no
Mary, I am Matti, don't you see?"
Then the largest and naughtiest of the boys took Bikku Matti on his
back, carried him to the Punch and Judy show and cried out, "Come and
see a penny-lad! Come and see my man in a petticoat!"
Bikku Matti grew angry and pulled the boy's hair with all his might.
"It is not my skirt, it is Grandmother's skirt!" he cried and he began
to weep.
But the naughty boy kept on. "Come and see this man in a skirt."
And in this way he ran around the whole Fair grounds, the boy calling,
Bikku pulling his hair and crying. Never had Bikku had such a ride.
He cried, he screamed, he scratched, he bit, and when at last he got
loose, he ran as fast as he could, but he stumbled in the skirt,
crawled up again, stumbled, got up again and ran on until he reached
Grandfather's cabin all out of breath and sobbing.
"Take off the skirt!" he cried. "I won't have any skirt, I am a man!"
"Don't cry, Bikku dear," said his grandmother, trying to comfort him.
"When you grow old, you will show them that you are a man as good as
any."
"Yes," said Grandfather, "and next time I will lend you my trousers."
They loved Bikku more than anything else in the world, these old
grandparents, they would have given him gold embroidered velvet
trousers, if it had been in their power. Now Grandmother gave him a
large piece of bread and butter, and Bikku Matti sat in the corner
eating it while the tears dried on his cheek.
Some time after this there was great excitement in the valley. The road
was one cloud of dust, from all the driving and running. A gentleman of
much importance was expected to come through the valley. It was even
said that the gentleman was next to the King himself. All the people
came to see him and strange things were told about him. "He drives in
a golden carriage," said some. "With twelve horses before it. He is
dressed from top to toe in silver and velvet," said others. But the
children had their own thoughts about him. They imagined that the high
gentleman carried a big sack on his back filled with silver coins and
candy sticks, which he threw out among them.
Bikku Matti also heard about it and this time he had to be by the
roadside with the other children, there was no help for that.
"But what about your clothes?" said Grandfather, smiling. "Perhaps you
are to borrow Grandmother's skirt?"
"I won't have any skirt!" cried Bikku Matti, and turned red to the
roots of his hair when he remembered all that he had suffered because
of that skirt. "No, never in the world will I wear a skirt again. I
want Grandfather's trousers."
"Well, little one, come with me to the garret and we will see how well
the trousers fit you," said Grandfather. And now Bikku Matti was happy.
He climbed up the garret ladder like a cat, so fast that Grandfather
could not keep up with him. Then they came to the big painted chest
farthest off in the corner.
Of this chest Bikku stood in great awe, but he had only had glimpses
into it once or twice. Now it was opened, and the first thing that lay
there glittering before him was a large sword in its gleaming sheath.
"O, Grandfather, I want that," he cried.
"Oh you do?" said Grandfather. "Hold the sword till I get the uniform
out of the chest."
Bikku Matti took the sword; it was so heavy that he could hardly lift
it. Old Grandfather stroked his cheek. "When you become a man," he
said, "perhaps you may carry a sword too, and be allowed to fight for
your country. Do you want to do that Bikku?"
"Yes," answered Bikku, straightening himself. "I shall cut the heads
off all of them!"
"Oh now, that depends upon whom it is you will fight."
"Yes," thought Bikku, "I shall cut the heads off all the wolves and
hawks, and thistles and of all those who will harm Grandfather and
Grandmother, and of all those who call me a girl."
"Well, well Bikku, take care, don't be too cruel. Here are the
trousers. You need the coat too, I suppose."
"Yes, Grandfather, and the sword, and the cap too."
"Here you have it all, Bikku, but you must promise not to go farther
than the gate." And Bikku promised.
Just as they came down from the garret they heard the sheriff driving
on the road calling and shouting to the people to get out of the road,
that the high gentleman was coming soon. There was a great deal of
hurry and flurry on the road as well as in the little kitchen.
Grandfather's trousers were put on Bikku Matti. They were gray with
light blue stripes along the sides and so wide and long that Bikku
could easily have hidden himself in one of the trouser legs. It looked
very discouraging, but on they must go. From below about half the
length of the trousers was rolled up and fastened with pins, and from
above they were hitched up and tied with a kerchief under Bikku's arms.
There was just as much difficulty with the coat. When it was on the
little fellow, the sleeves and coat tails swept the floor.
"No, this will not do," said Grandmother, and she rolled up the
sleeves and coat tails and fastened them with pins. Bikku was waiting
impatiently.
The tall soldier cap was then placed on his head, but it would have
fallen down over his little head and neck clear to the shoulders, if
it had not been filled with hay. At last they tied the heavy sword on
Bikku's back and the little knight was ready.
There never was a hero returning from a victory half so proud as was
Bikku in his first pair of trousers. The little body was lost in
the big uniform, only the blue, honest eyes, the red cheeks and the
important little pug-nose could be seen between the collar and the cap.
The brave knight started off with the sword scraping the ground. But
soon the pins began to fall out, the cap nearly upset, and it looked
as if our soldier would surely fall at each step he took. The old
people had not laughed so heartily for a long time.
Grandfather, who could hear but not see the outfit, swung the little
boy about, kissed the little nose that stuck out and said, "God bless
you little Bikku, may no lad worse than you wear our country's uniform.
Now take care to salute when the great gentleman comes--so." And then
he taught Bikku to stand straight as a stick with serious face, left
arm stretched straight down, right hand at the forehead.
"Yes, Grandfather," said Bikku, who was always willing to learn. Bikku
had just arrived at the gate when a dust cloud was seen on the road
and the great gentleman came driving. Now he was quite near, oh, how
fast he came! Suddenly the driver called, "Whoa!" and again, "Open that
gate."
Now this is what happened. The sheriff himself was standing at the
gate to see that everything should go off right. He was to give the
command and his assistant was to open it. But when the carriage
approached with lightning speed, the sheriff wanted to make a deep bow.
In doing so he fell, and there he lay sprawling in the ditch by the
road. His assistant waited for the word of command, and when he saw his
superior officer fall, he became so confused that he could not think
of opening the gate. Therefore the gate remained shut right before
the nose of the high gentleman. The carriage had stopped and now the
gentleman looked out surprised to see what was the matter, while the
driver kept on calling, "Open the gate!"
Then Bikku Matti stepped up, though with much difficulty, opened the
gate and saluted exactly as Grandfather had taught him. The driver
whipped up the horses, the carriage started, but the gentleman called,
"Stop!" and the carriage stopped a second time.
"Who are you, little one in my regiment's uniform?" called out the high
gentleman, and laughed so heartily that the carriage shook.