LOST IN THE FOREST
Oh, that awful, awful time! Even now I can wake in the middle of the
night, start up in bed and stare around frightened and trembling, for I
dream that I am in the dark forest alone, as I was that time at
Goodfields. Well, I wasn't absolutely alone, but I was the oldest, you
see, and so I had all the responsibility for both of us, and that is
almost worse than to be alone.
It was little brother Karl who was with me. We children were going to
have a blueberry party--that was the beginning of the whole thing. We
wanted to treat all the grown-up boarders, and Mother Goodfields, and
the maids too. They should all have blueberries with powdered sugar,
nothing else; anyway that was enough. But we should need a lot of
blueberries, oh, a frightful lot of them!
So we went off, each choosing his own clump of bushes, and picked and
picked; and then Karlie-boy and I got lost. Now, you shall hear.
It was in the morning, a very hot morning. The air in the valley had
been perfectly still all night. We had slept beside open windows with
only a sheet over us.
Immediately after breakfast I flew to the forest, for I knew a place
where I wanted to pick berries all by myself. Just as I was climbing
over the fence of the home hill-pasture, Karl saw me and called out, "I
want to go with you--it's mean of you--oh! oh! to run away from me--I
want to go too."
He made such a hullabaloo with his screaming that I had to stop and wait
for him. But one ought never in the world to humor screeching children,
for no good comes of it. How much better it would have been for Karl if
he had not been with me that long frightful day in the forest, and that
queer evening in crazy Helen's hut,--for that is where we finally found
ourselves.
Yes, when I have children, I shall be awfully strict and decided with
them.
It was cool there in the forest. The sunshine came in only in golden
stripes and spots. Never in my life have I seen so many blueberries and
such high blueberry bushes as we found that day. I picked and picked.
Meanwhile Karl ate and ate, till he was nothing but one big blueberry
stain,--he smeared himself so with the juice.
"Did Noah have berries with him in the ark?" asked Karl.
"No, indeed."
"Then all the blueberries must have been drowned in the flood."
"Ugh, what a silly you are!"
"Well, anyway, Noah had cannon with him in the ark."
Oh, I get so sick of cannons with Karl! Whatever he talks about, he
always mixes up something about cannons in it.
It was unspeakably fresh and still in the forest. I ran from one
blueberry patch to another, but you may chop my head off if I
understand in the least how it happened that we got lost; for I usually
keep my eyes open and have my wits about me too.
All at once Karl sat himself down in a blueberry patch.
"Ugh--blueberries are disgusting," said he.
"That's because you have stuffed yourself with them," I replied.
"I want some bread and butter," said Karl. "And I'm tired--so tired."
"Oh, keep still."
A minute after, it was exactly the same.
"I'm so tired, so tired."
O dear! I should certainly have to take him home. We were in a little
open space. Pine-trees stood close together around it, whispering
softly. To save my life, I could not remember which direction we had
come from; there were little mounds and moss and blueberry patches and
pine-trees everywhere.
Whoever knew such a pickle as this? How in the world had we come here? I
couldn't tell--no matter which way I looked. I sprang here and I ran
there to find something I recognized, but I got more and more bewildered
and Karl grew crosser and crosser. He kicked at his basket of
blueberries.
"Horrid old berries! I want to go home--I'm just mad at everything here.
I'm mad as can be."
If you have never been in a great forest, you cannot possibly imagine
anything so bewildering. Trees and trees and trees in every direction
and nothing else; no clear space, no opening anywhere. But even yet I
wasn't a bit afraid. The sunshine was bright, the forest air fragrant
and I had three quarts of blueberries in my basket--three quarts at the
very least. But Karl was heavy to drag along and my berry basket weighed
down my other arm, and there was no end to the trees.
[Illustration: How we wandered,--round and round, up and down, hither
and thither.--_Page 208._]
O me! How we wandered,--round and round, up and down, hither and
thither! We would go ten steps in one direction, then five steps in
another--I didn't know where we had been or where we hadn't. All at once
everything seemed to be rough and horrid; great trees, uprooted, lay
topsy-turvy in our way, rotten branches were under foot everywhere, and
the ground was boggy and swampy. The whole place was dreadful.
I remember perfectly that it was right there that I began to be
afraid--so terrified that I felt as if down inside of me I was shivering
with fear, for I happened to think that we might meet a bull in the
forest,--Kaspar's bull that is horribly fierce; and of all things in the
world I am most afraid of a bull.
"Oh, Karlie boy, Karlie boy! We are lost!"
He gave one glance at me and burst out crying. Louder and louder he
cried, and heavier and heavier he was to drag along, as if he were a big
log that would not budge from its place. It was weird and uncanny
somehow,--that he should scream so loud in the silent forest. And if
there were a bull anywhere in the forest, even far away, it could hear
his crying; and then it would come leaping--it would come leaping----
I listened and listened, I seemed to hear with a thousand ears--and I
looked and searched to see if I could not recognize even one tree or one
blueberry clump. But no; never in the world had I been in this place
before. Then we turned and went in exactly the opposite direction. Ugh!
No, no--the forest was just as thick and dark there. Hark! Did something
crash then?
"Oh, do be still, Karlie boy!" I listened, holding my breath; perhaps it
was only a bird flying.
Well, now we would go straight on this way. And there was nothing to be
afraid of; the bright sun was shining, and I had lots and lots of
blueberries, and going this way we would surely get out of the forest.
Thus I comforted myself.
"Pooh! We'll soon find the way out, you and I."
"If we had a cannon, we could fire it off, and then they would hear it
at Goodfields," said Karl.
For once I was glad of Karl's cannon. I talked and talked about cannon
simply to fix my thoughts on something else than the forest, and Karl
dried his tears and asked whether there were any great big cannon, as
big as--as the whole earth, and didn't I think that the Pope had more
cannon than any one else in the world?
"Hush, Karlie boy! keep still. Do you hear something?"
Yes, it was cow-bells. Oh, perhaps Kaspar's bull was coming, that awful
bull. "Oh, hurry, hurry, Karlie boy!" We dashed ahead, over branches and
mounds; we ran and ran; I stopped and listened, scarcely breathing.
"Do you hear it, Karlie boy?"
Yes, the cow-bells sounded loud and clear through the silence. Well,
anyway, we should soon be out of the forest--I thought I knew where we
were now.
"Run, Karlie boy! Run, run." There now! There was an opening in the
forest! We rushed forward; but just imagine! We were in that little open
place again,--there where everything was so horrid, where the great
split tree-trunks lay in the swampy moss,--just where I had begun to
have that shivery fear deep down inside of me. We had walked round and
round in a circle.
And there were the cows! Beyond where the trees were close together, I
saw a black cow that lifted its head and sniffed at us; and other cows,
many cows,--and oh! there was Kaspar's bull!
I was wild with fright; probably it was then that I threw away my
basket, for I saw it no more. Over hillocks and moss, through bushes and
thickets, I dragged Karl--who was now pale as death, with big wide open
staring eyes, and utterly silent.
The whole herd was after us, now at a slow trot, now leaping; the bull
was ahead and gave a short, low roar from time to time. Oh! oh! What
should we do! Oh! Karl, Karl!----
We had nowhere to turn and no one to help us. What should we do? Then I
prayed--not aloud, but oh, how earnestly! And suddenly I saw that there
was a rock just beyond us--an enormous moss-grown rock. Thither we
rushed. I tore myself on the bushes till I bled. I fell, but rushed on
again till we reached the rock; then I climbed up, gripped tight with
hand and feet, hauled Karl up after me, higher and higher up, as far as
we could get. The rock was perhaps two or three yards high. We were
saved from the bull. And it was God who had saved us, I was sure of
that. I had never seen that rock before anywhere in the forest.
The bull had made a great leap and stood just below us pawing the
ground, tail in the air. Oh, how he bellowed!
I held Karl in my arms. The bull could not reach us. He pawed the earth
so that moss and dirt rose in a whirl; he ran around the rock and
bellowed horribly, making as much noise as ten ordinary bulls would
make. And all the cows followed him round and round the rock, lowing and
acting crazy like him.
Never, never in my life have I been so frightened. Karl grew paler and
paler. Oh, what if he should die of terror?
"There's nothing to be afraid of now, Karlie boy," I said in a shaky
voice. "The bull could never get up here. No indeed--he can be mighty
sure of that, horrid old beast!"
"He can be mighty sure of that, horrid old beast!" repeated Karlie boy
with white lips.
How long did we sit there? I'm sure I don't know. It must have been a
long time, for the sunshine disappeared from among the trees, the cows
laid themselves down in a circle around the rock, the bull went to and
fro. If he went a little way off, he would come rushing back again and
begin to behave worse than ever. The ground about the rock was torn up
as if there had been a great battle there.
I have often tried to remember what I thought of, all those long hours
on the rock, with that fierce bull below us. I really believe I didn't
think of anything but keeping tight hold of Karl; nor did we talk very
much either. Karl didn't even mention cannon a single time.
A gentle breeze stirred the tree-tops and the shadows had grown darker
under the close branches when the cows finally began to stir themselves.
Slowly, very slowly, they trailed off between the trees, the bull being
the last to go. As if for a farewell, he dug his horns into the earth
and sent bits of moss flying up to us. At last, at last, he, too, had
gone.
When the cows started homeward it must have been five or six o'clock,
and we had been in the forest the whole day long. Oh, how hungry, how
awfully hungry I was! And Karl was as pale as a little white flower.
Never--even if I live to be ninety years old--never shall I forget that
summer day on the big moss-grown rock with Kaspar's bull down below.
Well, then I did something unspeakably stupid. Instead of going the way
the cows had taken (which of course led right to Kaspar's farm), Karl
and I went exactly the opposite way, farther into the forest. Ugh! how
could any one be such a stupid donkey! I'm disgusted whenever I think of
it.
Karl and I walked on and on for an eternity it seemed. It grew darker
and darker and the air was full of mysterious sounds, low murmurs and
rustlings; my heart thumped frightfully. Just think, if we had to stay
in the forest all night when it was pitch dark! Suppose we never found
our way out to people again----
Oh, that big, big forest!
I did not cry once, I didn't dare to, you see, for Karl's sake. I just
stared and listened, and the forest murmured softly--softly, the whole
time.
Once in a while we sat down and then Karl would weep bitterly with his
head in my lap, poor little fellow!
"Now we'll soon get to Goodfields, Karlie boy, and Mother will be so
glad to see us--oh, so glad! Won't it be jolly?"
"Yes--and then I'm going to have a hundred pieces of bread and butter."
Suddenly we stumbled against a fence! And as suddenly my weariness
vanished. Where there was a fence, there must be people. We jumped
over the fence. Beyond it was a little cleared space where
stood--yes--really--a tiny hut. Then--wasn't it queer? I was so glad
that I began to cry violently as I dashed towards the house.
It was so very dark that I could not distinguish anything clearly, but I
could see that there was some one sitting on the door-stone. And just
imagine! When we drew nearer, I saw that it was Crazy Helen, an old
half-witted woman who went about among the farms begging. Many a time
through the summer had she been at Goodfields, and she had told us that
she lived all alone in the forest, high, high up on the mountain.
I can't possibly tell how I felt when I saw her; not that I was really
afraid of poor Helen, but it was all so strange--so queer.
"Are you coming here?" asked she, looking up at us and laughing. She had
on the same old brown coat, a man's coat, that she always wore, and was
smoking a clay pipe.
"Can you tell us the way to Goodfields?" I asked.
"Goodfields--nice folks at Goodfields; nice mistress there. I know her
very well," said Crazy Helen.
"Yes--but how shall we go to get there?" I asked again as I sat down
beside her on the door-step.
"Why, just over that way," said Crazy Helen, pointing back where we had
come from. "Just go that way and you'll get to Goodfields."
What in the world should I do? How frightened Mother must be about us!
And there was Karl asleep at my side on the bare ground. All kinds of
thoughts were whirling round in my head. Perhaps it was best to let
Karl sleep here in Crazy Helen's hut, and in the morning people might
find us; or Helen could go with us and show us the way to Goodfields.
"May I lay him on your bed?" I asked, pointing to Karl.
"Nice little boy is asleep," said Helen. So I put Karl on Crazy Helen's
bed. The floor of the hut was just bare earth, and there was no
furniture but one old stool, I think; but Karl was in a sound sleep and
safe, perfectly safe.
Then I seated myself again on the door-step beside poor Helen. They had
always said at Goodfields that she had never in the world been known to
do any harm, so I was not really afraid of her. The twinkling stars
shone down upon us, and the forest trees waved noisily.
"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Crazy Helen, slapping her knees.
Ugh! it wasn't exactly pleasant here; but sleep I would not; no, no, I
would not. I would just sit up and take care of Karl, but oh, how
unspeakably tired I was!
"Shall I dance a little for you?" asked Crazy Helen.
"Oh, no!" I answered.
Ugh! That would be horrible. On the lawn at Goodfields where, laughing
and joking, we all sat around together and watched Helen dance, it was
very jolly, but it wouldn't be so in the least here in the dark forest,
and alone with her. But if you'll believe it, she began to dance,
notwithstanding--such a queer dance!
She whirled herself about, hopped off slant-wise, then whirled again
like a spinning top, while the trees sighed in the wind, and the bright,
clear stars looked down on the little space before the hut and on Crazy
Helen dancing.
Never in my life had I seen anything so queer, so weird.
"Ho! Heigho!" she sang, as she spun round and round.
"Hi! Halloa!" some one answered from the forest.
I sprang up. "Halloa!" I shouted. It must be some one from Goodfields,
some one who was trying to find us, oh, thank God!
"Halloa!" "Hey there!"
The shouting was nearer; there were lights among the trees and now the
people came nearer still--now over the fence--oh! oh--it was Trond and
Lisbeth from Goodfields. Oh, oh! how glad I was! I flew in and began to
shake Karl.
"Karlie boy, wake up--get up--we're going to Mother." But Karl's eyes
would not open, he was so sound asleep. Trond, the farm man, came in and
took him in his arms. Oh, oh! it is impossible to say how glad I was!
They had been searching for us since four o'clock and now it was ten.
They had called and shouted, and not a sound had we heard.
Mother had been unspeakably anxious and terrified and wanted to go to
the forest herself, to search, but Mother Goodfields had said no to
that, "because Trond and Lisbeth know the forest better," she had told
Mother.
Crazy Helen sat herself down on the door-step again, and slapped her
knees and laughed, as before, out into the night.
Just think of all I lived through in that one day! And still I haven't
told half how strange and uncanny it all was,--the long, long day in the
forest and Crazy Helen dancing under the stars.
When I got to Goodfields, I ate three eggs and eight slices of bread and
butter, and drank four cups of chocolate. I truly did.