Chapter XXII: Book II: Founding the Kingdom (9)

“It is terrible to fall into the hands of the living God,” said Beret, quietly, and looked into his face with sorrowful despair. “There is nothing but evil in us—yes, nothing! But when He comes to us in Holy Communion, laying His merciful hands benignantly upon us and assures us from out the Gates of Eternity that all our sins are forgiven—oh, there is no moment so great as this for the sin-burdened soul! Then we may rest in peace.” ...

Once more he turned his face away, gave a light cough, and looked fixedly at the wall. Beret felt intuitively that his cough was forced this time.... “How strange we are—we erring mortals! Here I stand, telling him of the truth and the light and the way. Now he is wandering in the dark—he does not know which way to go. But when I tell him, he coughs the word away!... Thus it is to be dead in the midst of life!”

He lay still awhile, and then he said, wearily, “All my life I have thought it would be blessed to come Home.”

Tears came to Beret’s eyes.... “But are you ready to journey on? Do you dare now to meet Him as you are?... Here you have lived all these years, in error and sin, and have not taken time to give Him any thoughts at all.”

“Oh no,” he sighed, heavily.... “But that isn’t so very strange, is it?”

She felt uplifted by what she had been able to say; it gave her greater courage to go on.... “That’s why you must seek Him here, before you meet Him face to face yonder!” she cried, exultantly. “Now I will pray for you.” ... Without waiting for his consent, she knelt beside the bed and began to pray earnestly, with sweet compassion vibrating through her mellow voice, that he who now lay here might be given the grace to see his sin and to repent before the door had closed.

But she had hardly begun when something stopped the prayer.... Hans Olsa had reared himself up on his elbows when she had sunk to her knees beside the bed, and had remained in this position, staring at her wide-eyed. As he heard how she pleaded for him he was seized with a sudden convulsion of coughing; he sat up frantically in bed, gasping for breath. The bedclothes fell off him, the poultices slipped down, and Beret had to leave her praying to attend to him. And when he was quiet again he asked to have his milk warmed; then he had to get up; from that he got an attack of chills, and Beret had to call Sörine to help her warm the cloths once more and tuck him in.

With the first grey light of dawn Johannes Mörstad arrived, begging and begging that Beret go with him—Josie was coming down; he had tried to get Kjersti, but she had lamed herself so badly the other day, that it was impossible for her to walk that far.... “This is certainly the work of the devil!” thought Beret. “Just now ...!” But she went out of the house full of the same great exaltation, like one whose sins had been laid bare before the whole congregation....

VI

A little while later Per Hansa dropped in to see how they were getting along. He said that he would arrange with the Solum boys to help him carry hay and water to the herd up north; that done, he would go to Gjermund Dahl’s, to get him to come and help Sörine with the chores. This evening he would come back to make a report about everything. Now he must be gone....

People were hard at work throughout the whole settlement; the weather continued threatening, and there was much to be done after the storm; hogs and cattle, as well as human beings, had to be safeguarded against another onslaught of winter. On most of the farms the outhouses were still of primitive construction, built either of sod or of poles and straw. The last storm had buried some of them entirely; from others it had stripped off the straw so completely, that the tops of the poles poking through the snowdrifts resembled nothing so much as bleached bones sticking out of the ground. Of some of the farmhouses only the roofs could be seen; of the sod huts, only the chimneys; down at Tönseten’s, the smoke came right out of a hole in the snowbank. If one wanted to go to his neighbour’s, he had to put on skis or snowshoes, and keep on top of the drifts. There were homes where no other food was left than dry corn and the little milk that the cows gave. On the outskirts of the settlement, where the latest newcomers lived, they sometimes didn’t even have that much. But the people there would borrow a sack of wheat from anybody who had one; and if they had no coffee mill in the house, they would use a mortar, or improvise one from a kettle. Folks were cheerful about helping one another in those days. What one didn’t have, he borrowed; if one got a new idea, he passed it on to his neighbours. The scarcity of fuel caused the most suffering, for hay burned like hay, even if twisted.

Tönseten was sitting in the bedroom at Hans Olsa’s when Per Hansa came back after supper. He was down-hearted and quiet to-day. Kjersti had been in bed most of the time because of the stiffness and soreness from her fall; and she was so cross, he explained, that if a fellow as much as looked at her she would bite his head off. He had had the devil to pay, with taking care of both her and himself and doing the chores besides.... As he noticed how flushed Hans Olsa’s face was and heard how he struggled for breath, he wondered if his own cough had ever been as bad as this. If this was _worse_ than he had had it three years ago, the man would never be able to throw it off.... But he kept the thought to himself.

Things had been in a bad way with Hans Olsa all that day; the coughing spells had come oftener; he had been restless and fretful; had asked first for one thing, and then for another, and was always inquiring about the weather. At that moment he happened to be quiet; when all at once he began to talk about the inevitable.... He asked both of his neighbours to help Sörine when he was gone, and to give her their best advice about running the farm, just as he would have done for them, if either one of them had been in his place.... “Per Hansa, stay with me to-night! Sörrina must have some sleep; she has had all the work to do outdoors, and needs some rest. It may take a long time with me yet—perhaps we shall need help from all of you!”

Thus it came about that Per Hansa watched with him that night. Sörine lay down in the other room, fully dressed. The door between the rooms stood open. She intended to doze only a minute and not lose herself so completely that she couldn’t jump up to help when the worst spells came on; but she had tramped about working in the snow nearly all day, and was so worn out that she soon dropped off into a sound sleep.

After all had been quiet in the house for some time, Hans Olsa looked up and asked, in a needlessly loud voice, if his wife was asleep. When no answer came from the other room, he lay still for quite a while, gazing up with his eyes fixed on space; then he began, in a calm, matter-of-fact way, to tell Per Hansa how he thought everything ought to be arranged after he was gone. He mentioned first a couple of little debts which he had in Sioux Falls; then he spoke of several of the new settlers who owed him for seed and cattle, and stipulated how much each was to pay. It transpired later that in every case he had stated less than what was owing to him.... Sörine ought to hold the farm and keep on living here; for this was the country of the future—of that he was certain. Per Hansa would hereafter have to be her chief counsellor; if he could hire an honest and capable manager for her, she and the children would get along all right.... And then there was Little-Hans—it was hard to go away and not see what this seedling of manhood would grow up into. If he showed any aptitude for his books, they would have to send him to St. Olaf College.... Or if the Lord had destined him for the ministry—But that was probably expecting too much....

He talked with great difficulty. Every now and then he had to stop for breath. Per Hansa only nodded his replies; all he could think of to say was: “Don’t worry.... Is there anything else now?... I will take care of everything.”

Little by little Per Hansa got the feeling that his friend had something on his mind; he could not tell exactly why he felt that way, but the impression grew stronger and stronger. Every time a pause came over the sick man’s talk, he expected to hear what it was. But there seemed to be nothing more. At last Hans Olsa fell silent; he was still looking straight ahead of him; but now he began to be very restless. A violent fit of coughing shook his frame. From out that great chest of his came a dreadful wheezing, grating sound, as from an old pair of leaky bellows when they are blown up hard.

When the cough had eased itself, Hans Olsa began once more his frightened groping among the things of the future; but now he spoke less coherently. After midnight he had a quiet spell when he lay as if exhausted and said nothing; but off and on he would glance at his neighbour out of the corners of his eyes; there was something unusual and urgent in the look—something that made a man afraid.... Per Hansa wondered if the end were at hand....

But suddenly the sick man began to talk again. It was hardly what Per Hansa had expected to hear. He merely raised his eyes and asked in a low voice:

“Is the snow very deep?”

“Between our farms,” said Per Hansa, “it doesn’t lie less than four feet anywhere; and it’s as deep as that on the level all over the prairie. Down near the creek, by Tönseten’s, it must be as much as twenty feet deep!... It snowed just a little, I want you to know!”

“Is it as bad as that?” ... The sick man sighed heavily, his hands fidgeting with the covers; then he repeated in a low voice: “So—is it as deep as that?”

“Was there something on your mind?”

“Then it isn’t possible to get anywhere!” ... The powerful jaws closed; drops of sweat stood out on the great, shiny face.

Per Hansa’s heart stirred with a nameless dread; he felt himself grow dizzy, but he cleared his throat and said, firmly:

“What is it that you want, Hans Olsa?... Do you want the doctor?”

The sick man turned toward him.

“Oh—it’s the minister I need!” ... Then, after a moment, he added: “But don’t you think the weather will be better in a day or two?” ...

He lay perfectly still. When he got no answer he looked up and repeated, imploringly:

“Don’t you think so?”

Per Hansa rose to his feet and began pacing back and forth across the floor. It must be very close in here ... he felt so faint. Thinking of how it was outdoors, he suddenly found himself bathed in perspiration.... God pity him who had to travel the prairie these days!

He came back to the bed.

“You feel that you must have him?”

“It is terrible to fall into the hands of the living God!” ... The large, kindly features were drawn and trembling, with fear of the unknown. Per Hansa could scarcely endure it to look at him; he had to lean against the back of a chair for support.... In broken words, his friend repeated: “It is terrible ... terrible ... to fall ... into His hands!” ...

“Hush, now! Hush, now, man! Don’t talk blasphemy!” cried Per Hansa. “Lie down, now.... See here ... the covers are falling off you!”

The bulky form had reared itself violently up in bed. Through a paroxysm of coughing Hans Olsa whimpered:

“Tell Sörrina to come here!”

It looked for a moment as if he were passing away in the midst of the attack. Hans Olsa himself thought so. In wild alarm, Per Hansa resorted to pounding the sick man’s back, just as one does with children when they have swallowed the wrong way. But after a while the spell gradually left him, as the others had done. He settled back, and a little later fell into a deep sleep, which lasted till morning.

The first rays of daylight woke Sörine. Her husband was already awake by that time, and seemed better. Per Hansa put on his coat and prepared to go; he had all his own work to do at home, besides Hans Olsa’s cattle up north to look after.

Hans Olsa watched him get ready, following all his movements with a pathetic sadness like that which stands in a dog’s eyes when he watches his master go away without him. Then he called him over to the bedside and asked him again what the weather was like. There was an odd little quiver in his voice as he said, almost as though he were ashamed:

“I suppose it’s still impossible to get anywhere?”

Per Hansa felt like laughing at such childishness in a grown-up man; he scarcely knew what to answer. But answer he must; so he braced himself, buttoned his big coat, put on his mittens, and said, firmly: “You ought to lie still and sleep awhile longer, Hans Olsa.... During the night you slept like a rock—and see how much better you are already.... I promise you that I’ll be back some time later in the day.”

“You don’t think it can be done?”

Nameless dread again seized Per Hansa. He stepped back and said, hastily: “Calm yourself now, Hans Olsa!... We’ll have to see about it—you understand.”

The sick man reached out toward him, caught his hand and held it tightly, with something of his old strength.... “Oh, Per Hansa!” he cried.... “There never was a man like you ...!” and fell back on the pillow, exhausted.

VII

All through the latter part of last summer and early fall Per Hansa had done a full man’s work plus a bit more; nor had he spared the boys, either. And he had hired a number of men besides. He needed all the help he could get; for there was the new house to be built, the crops to be harvested, the fall plowing that must be done, and in addition, all the other work about the farm.

But he had gone about his duties in a mood that made any task easy both for himself and for those who worked with him. His wife’s improved condition had relieved him of whole loads of worry and anxiety. During the years that her mind had been beclouded he had treated her as a father would a delicate, frail child that, by some inexcusable fault on his part, had been reduced to helplessness. So solicitous had been his watchful care over her through all these years, that this paternal attitude had become fixed with him. Even now that she was well again, it didn’t change.

Her growing religious concern didn’t alarm him; that, too, he took as a notion on the part of a frail child. He either would meet her admonitions with silence, or else laugh kindly at her eagerness, or he might throw himself into the work all the harder. The fact that she now was quite all right again, that he no longer needed to watch over her in constant dread, but that she, on the contrary, could take care of the house in a capable way and even find time to help with the outside work, was a constant source of thankfulness to him. To him she was still the delicate child that needed a father’s watchful eye. To desire her physically would be as far from his mind as the crime of incest.

Shortly before the Christmas holidays they had had a set-to over religion. She had insisted that he as the father of the family should conduct daily devotion. At this demand he had laughed, not unkindly but humorously, as if she had sprung a good joke on him.... He conducting devotion—the idea! She had become insistent; her voice was full of deep sorrowful concern over his seemingly total depravity. She had entreated him earnestly and yet so kindly that he, too, was touched. And so he had said, as one yields to an unreasonable whim of a dear child, that that he would not do, but he would be glad to have her do it, for she could read so beautifully, which was true. Feeling that it would be dangerous to his temper to argue the matter any longer, he had gone out of the house to find some work outside. From that time on she had been conducting devotion each day, but both of them had studiously avoided a new discussion, with the result that the relation between them was less frank than before; each seemed to feel the guardedness of the other.

As time passed her devotional exercises became less and less pleasing to him; at times they would get on his nerves. In the prayers she began to offer there would creep in more and more of concern for him; and little by little it got to be almost exclusively for him. As he sat there listening it sounded to him as if he were the most hardened sinner in all Christendom; he would feel ashamed before the children, would find some pretext to steal out of the house. But he couldn’t bring it across his heart to speak to her; for how can one reason with a child that is so delicate as she, he thought.

* * * * *

In the grey light of dawn Per Hansa returned from the bedside of Hans Olsa, looking like a man who had reached the end of his rope. He hung up his coat and hat and sat down at the table in the large kitchen to eat his breakfast. Off and on he glanced out of the window. While Beret brought him his food, she asked how things were over at Hans Olsa’s. At first she got very little satisfaction; his answers were short and taciturn, and he seemed engrossed in his own thoughts. He ate slowly and took a long time over the meal; all the while he kept looking out of the window.

At length he got up from the table, crossed to the stove, turned his back to it, and put his hands behind him, as though he still felt cold and needed the warmth of the fire.... “Well,” he said, meditatively, “I suppose he doesn’t expect to get over this sickness—and it’s more than likely he won’t. He just lies there and whimpers about having the minister.... There’s something uncanny about him. I can’t understand it at all.” ... These remarks were not directed at Beret; he stood looking straight ahead of him, as if thinking aloud. Beret had stopped working when she heard him; her face lighted up as she answered, with an unmistakable ring of exultation in her voice: “But I can understand it!... Now may God be near and hear his prayer! Some one must go for the minister at once.”

Per Hansa did not move; he was staring off into space. Beret crossed the floor, her hands full of dishes, and stopped directly in front of him.... “You must persuade some one to go with you. This is terrible weather!... Could you try going on horseback?”

“Huh—horseback! How you talk!”

“But it is an awful thing for a soul to be cast into hell when human beings can prevent it!”

Per Hansa seemed amused at this idea. “Well, if Hans Olsa is bound in that direction, there’ll be a good many more from here in the same boat!... He’ll land in the right place, don’t worry.”

The words sounded so blasphemous to Beret that she could not repress a shudder of horror. Greatly wrought up, she set the dishes down on the table and said, fiercely: “You know what our life has been: land and houses, and then more land, and cattle! That has been his whole concern—that’s been his very life. Now he is beginning to think about not having laid up treasures in heaven.... Can’t you understand that a human being ever becomes concerned over his sins and wants to be freed from them?”

“I suppose I don’t understand anything, do I?” said Per Hansa in a tone of disgust. “Perhaps I don’t understand, for instance—though God knows it would not be difficult for any grown person to see it—that no man could cross the prairie from here to the James River, as things are now, and come out alive—... As for Hans Olsa, the Lord will find him good enough, even without either minister or _klokker_—that I truly believe!”

“The God of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not!... Here lies one who is about to receive his sight, and we will not reach out a hand to help him!”

“Hold your tongue, Beret!” cried Per Hansa, sharply, anger at the hopelessness of the argument getting the better of him. “Do you want to drive me out into the jaws of death?”

“What horrible things you say, Per Hansa!”

“Horrible—well I Don’t you suppose the good Lord would have provided other weather if he had intended me to make this trip?”

She gave him a quick look.

“It’s possible to try, isn’t it?” she said with cold persistence. “Why can’t you get some one to go with you? You could take Indi—he is light-footed, and we could wrap things around all four legs, so that he wouldn’t sink through the snow. They say that has been done before—I’ve read about it.... Henry has a sleigh; and you could turn back at any time, if you couldn’t make it.... The Lord would forgive us then for what we couldn’t possibly do—if we had tried!”

“He had better do that right now!” growled Per Hansa, a gust of hot anger nearly choking him. Without another word he went to the stairs, called Ole and Store-Hans, and told them to get into their clothes right away. Pulling on his coat, he slammed out of the house to do the morning chores.

Beret looked at the door through which he had just disappeared.... There he leaves in a fit of temper, fuming and cussing!... She took up the morning work, her thoughts busy with many things. Before she realized it she was absorbed in what had so often been on her mind lately: What had happened to him, anyway? What had made him so different?... His warm playfulness, his affectionate tenderness—what had become of it?... Oh no, no! she caught herself, how can I be thinking of such things again! The sweet desires of the flesh are the nets of Satan.... How deeply sin has besoiled all life!... Beret went about her work with a greater determination; but her sad mood did not lift.

A hundred things were waiting for Per Hansa outside, but he was so angry that he scarcely noticed what he was about.... The world seemed upside down to-day.... That grown people couldn’t see an inch beyond their noses! Here lay Hans Olsa, driving himself out of his mind because he couldn’t have a minister—when there was no better man than himself in all Christendom!... And here was Beret insisting that he leap right into the arms of death—she who had a heart so tender that she couldn’t harm a mouse!... People could certainly twist things around in a queer way! All his life he had worked and slaved in order that she and the children might be made comfortable ... and now it was flung in his face and he was taunted with being only a blind mole who saw nothing but the hole he had burrowed himself into!... “By God, it’s a strange world we live in!” ... If this went on much longer, he would go out of his mind himself—if he wasn’t a little crazy already!... He dashed from one thing to another in a frenzy, leaving everything half done.

When the boys came out they all put on their skis and started across the snowdrifts to Hans Olsa’s north quarter. The day was bleak; a cold air was drawing in from the west. To Store-Hans, all these fields of snow were glorious; now he could skim like a bird over the drifts. Little by little Per Hansa, forgot his temper as he caught the infection of the boy’s exuberant joy.

While they were working over the cattle, Per Hansa talked in a steady stream to the boys. All this snow, he said, promised a bumper crop next summer—you could depend on that!... One of his moods of high good humour had come over him now with a rush; and as was customary with him in that frame of mind, he discussed things with the boys as if they had been grown men. He outlined at length how they could manage their place in order to have the very finest of farms. If all went well, they would build a big barn next fall; but they certainly wouldn’t be such damned idiots as to build a horse barn and cow barn separate, as that fool Torkel Tallaksen had done! It made a fine show, all right, but it was hardly practical; besides costing a good deal more, the barns were cold.... But they were going to have a real show barn, just the same—red with white cornices, because he always thought those colors looked the best.... Then he told them how he had read in the _Skandinaven_[23] that the big farmers in the East now built a track under the ridgepole, along which they hauled the hay right into the barn loft. They would have to investigate this idea, for it sounded practical.... They found plenty to do up north; they saw to it that the cattle had water and hay enough; they carried in more straw; they stuffed the cracks in the walls; and all the while they talked and worked together like three grown men. Per Hansa felt the need of throwing off the great burden that weighed him down; and for the moment he seemed to be succeeding fairly well. But at last they had finished everything that needed to be done; then the skis went on in a hurry, and off flew the boys like two great sea gulls soaring across the fiord.... No more time for talk! They struck off directly for the highest hill in sight; from there they could slide all the way down to the creek.... Wasn’t it wonderful ... all this snow!

[23] Norwegian-American newspaper published in Chicago.

Just as Per Hansa reached the yard at home Sörine was coming out of the kitchen door; she went over to the wall of the house, took a pair of skis that stood there, and put them on. He noticed that she was very thinly clad. She had a shawl over her head, but wore no other outdoor wrap. He concluded at once that she must have left home in a hurry, and feared that the worst had happened.... Was anything wrong? he asked.... No, Hans Olsa didn’t seem much worse; she thought he looked a little better. But her face was sad and she looked down as she spoke.... Bridget had been to see him again and had said there was no hope.... “And I guess there isn’t, either,” she went on. “But I had to come over and ask your advice, Per Hansa.... He said that you were going after the minister for him. And I suppose that might be a good thing to do; at any rate, he is very happy about it.... But now, of course, I see that it’s impossible to go anywhere.... Still, I was thinking that if you _did_ intend to try, it might be better to get the doctor instead.... I don’t suppose you can think of it in this weather, but I had to come over, anyway....” Not once did she look up as the obvious pleading went on.

Per Hansa glanced down at his skis. Her voice had a thin, timid sound in this piercing wind. He felt the cold himself and remembered how thinly she was clad.

“You must stay awhile and get warm before you go,” he said, quietly.

“No, I must hurry home. I know I shouldn’t have come, but—” her voice suddenly left her. In a moment it came back, and then she went on, bravely: “It is so hard to see him go, without being able to help! And then we all have a feeling that nothing is ever impossible for you—and I thought that perhaps you might find a way out of this, too!” ... All at once her pleading had taken on a frantic urgency.

“Did he ask you to come to me?”

“No—he didn’t exactly do that. But he kept wondering if you weren’t getting ready—if you wouldn’t be starting soon. I could see plainly enough that he wanted some one to come over.”

Per Hansa said nothing more, nor did he look at her again. She went away at once. When she had gone, he took off his skis, beat the snow from them, and set them up against the wall. But he did not go in immediately.... His thoughts followed her who was now walking across the snow, passed her, entered the house before her, saw his friend lying there—saw the great face staring up at him, the frightened eyes imploring him like those of a kindly dog. He stood still in his tracks a long time, gazing off into vacancy, without the will to move....

On the kitchen floor Permand was playing at threshing. When the father came in he hailed him, giving off orders like a man: “Come here and help me, you; we’ve got to get this work done before evening!” The boy’s heart and soul were in his play. Seeing that dinner was not yet ready, the father hung up his coat and hat and sat down on the floor beside his son. In a moment they were both absorbed in the play.

During the meal the two parents scarcely spoke to each other, and never once did their eyes meet. As soon as they had finished the boy came and wanted his father to play with him some more; the father willingly agreed, and soon they were hard at it again. It was a serious question as to how they could get a lot of threshing done to-day; all the while they were laughing and talking about it, making a great deal of noise.

As the mother cleared the table she kept looking at them in wonder and dismay.... Here he sat and played with the child, just as if there were nothing serious in the world for him. The day was wearing on. Didn’t he really intend to try to do anything? She could have cried aloud in her anguish! Had he become stone blind?... When she had finished washing the dishes she went to the window and stood there awhile, looking out; then she crossed to the wall where her outdoor clothes hung, and began to put them on. This attracted Per Hansa’s attention.

... Was she going out? he asked.

... Yes.... She put on one of his coats over her own wrap, then pulled his big stocking cap over her head.

He looked up a second time.

“Are you going far? You seem to be wrapping up a good deal.”

She waited a moment before she answered.

“I have to talk to Henry.... _Some one_ must go on this errand for Hans Olsa!” Her face was flushed with determination and her eyes shone with a quiet light.

Per Hansa burst into a laugh and scrambled to his feet.

“You’ll have to behave yourself now, woman,” he said, like a man trying to talk reason into a naughty child. “You ought to know that this is no weather for a woman to be out in.”

“It’s no weather for men to be out in, either, by the way it looks in here!”

He whirled on her suddenly, his face white with passion; the eyes that stared at her fiercely, burned with a lambent flame.

“God help me!” she thought. “Now he’s going to lay hands on me!... But I only spoke the truth!”

“I want no more damned nonsense about this!” he burst out, hoarsely. “If you ... if you have something to say to Henry, you’ll have to say it here in this house.... You can’t go chasing from farm to farm to-day!” ...

Before she knew it he had gone out of the kitchen.

VIII

In front of the steps stood the forward part of a sleigh, on which the boys had tried to haul hay to the house; it was a clumsy, homemade affair, so heavy that the boys couldn’t budge it after it had stood awhile, and so they had left it where it was. Per Hansa had noticed it earlier in the day, and it had angered him at the time to think that the boys were so careless.... When he came out now this object was the first thing he saw. He rushed at it; wrenched it out of the snow with a violent jerk, and flung it so hard into a drift that only one runner remained in sight.

“_There_!... God damn the thing!” he muttered.

With that passionate outburst his temper seemed suddenly to have left him; but his face was still very pale. His skis leaned up against the wall where he had placed them; he put them on and stood still for a moment, lost in thought; then, staff in hand, he started off....

In the east part of the settlement lived two Telemarking[24] boys, who had come over a couple of years before. They were skilled skismiths; last winter each one had made himself a pair with straps and staffs, the finest ever seen in this part of the country. This year they had made two trips to town on them before Christmas.... It was to these boys that Per Hansa now went. In about an hour he returned with one pair of skis on his shoulders, and another on his feet. Neither pair was his own.

[24] People from the mountain district of Telemarken, Norway.

Beret, greatly agitated by her husband’s hasty departure, walked back and forth across the kitchen floor.... “Now I have brought things to a sorry pass!” she thought. “I know I said too much—but what could I do? Some one has to go, and I had no one else to ask.” ... When she saw him returning with the skis she felt relieved.... “It’s sensible of him to go on skis; it’s the only way he can possibly get along.... I wonder who he intends to take along with him? He ought to have thought of the plan more seriously this morning; the boys and I could have managed with the chores.... I must hurry up and make him a cup of coffee; he must have something hot to drink before he leaves.... They’ll hardly get far to-day.” ... She put the coffeepot on the stove and began to set the table.... “I guess I’ll put on a tablecloth to make things nice for him.... He mustn’t think that I hold any hard feelings.” ...

The oldest two boys were busy digging a tunnel from the cow barn to the pigsty—the latter had been completely snowed under. Per Hansa went over there first; he talked to them as if he were in no hurry, and when it seemed to him that they were losing interest, he went down into the tunnel where they were.... He said that now he was going away, and that it was uncertain when he would return. Could he depend on them to look after things while he was gone?... The boys were absorbed in their task and didn’t pay much attention to what he said. Certainly he could go. They would look after everything. They went on with their work, and soon fell into a quarrel about how long it would take them to reach the pigsty.... He left the boys, took his skis, and went into the granary; there he rubbed one pair of skis with some tallow which he kept for the purpose, and put a piece of the tallow into his pocket. He also had to adjust the straps a little before he could start....

While he was doing this Peder Victorious came trudging in and announced that mother had made coffee. She said father must come in before it got cold.

“What?” ... Per Hansa’s face brightened. “Did mother really say that?”

“She said coffee was ready.”

“Oh!...”

Per Hansa had now adjusted the straps as he wanted them, and stood looking around for a rope with which to strap the other pair of skis on his back.

“Did she send you out and tell you to say that?” ...

“She said—she said—coffee was ready, she said!”

The father looked at his son. “You haven’t got enough on, Permand,” he said in a low, tender voice, stroking the boy’s cheek with his hand and running his finger down into the soft warm neck. The boy screamed when it tickled. Per Hansa laughed to hear him. “Hm—hm—cold as an icicle! Pack yourself in this minute!... So mother has the coffee ready, you say?”

He carried the boy out lovingly, set him down with a lingering touch, and went back after his skis. One pair he tied to his back; the other he put on.

The boy waited, watching him.

“Aren’t you coming, father?”

“Get into the house with you!” the father said with mock severity. “I’ll probably be along in a little while.” ... Then, as he straightened up and put on his mittens, he suddenly remembered something:

“Permand!”

“Ya?” ...

“There’s a ball of nice twine in the bedroom. Ask mother to find it and give it to you to play with.... And now you must be a good boy, and get a lot of threshing done before I come back!”

“Yes, father,” said the boy as he trotted away.

Per Hansa stood motionless, watching him until he had passed from sight inside the house. Then, with a staff in either hand, he started off.... Was that a face at the window that he saw?...

He did not look at the house again. In a moment he had passed the place where the boys were digging the tunnel; he longed to talk with them once more, but crushed the feeling down.... He struck out westward. Something tugged and pulled at his heart, trying to make him turn back; it was as if he had a bridle on and the driver were pulling hard on one of the reins. He had to bend his head forward against this unseen force in order to hold his direction.... “No—not now—not now....” he murmured, bitterly, wiping his mitten across his eyes.

In the kitchen window Beret stood watching him; her soft, kindly eyes grew large and questioning.... Wasn’t he coming in? Had Permand forgotten to tell him?... Surely, surely, he would come. She had fixed things so nicely for him.... Oh, this would never do! She must find out at once who was going with him!... She hurried to the door, flung it open, ran out on the steps, and tried to call to him—he simply mustn’t leave this way!... But he had already gone beyond the range of her voice; the westerly gusts, driving full against her, snatched her words away. Her eyes filled with tears, so that she could scarcely see him now. Furious blasts came swirling out of the grey, boundless dusk, sweeping the snow in stinging clouds, whirling it round and round, dropping it only to pick it up again. Per Hansa soon disappeared in the whirling waste.... The wind was so cold that it penetrated to the very marrow of her bones.

A little later Per Hansa turned in at Hans Olsa’s; he sat and talked with them awhile in the bedroom. Their words were few and far between. Per Hansa felt that there was nothing more for him to do here. At length he got up and said that now he was going—what sort of a trip he would have he did not know. If luck were with him, he would bring back the minister. In the meantime Hans Olsa must behave himself and rest as much as possible, for he really had nothing to worry about.... The sick man groped for Per Hansa’s hand, and did not seem to want to let it go. He acted like a child who has teased and teased until it has finally got its way....

“I didn’t dare to ask you right out,” he said, as if in explanation. “But I knew you would go as soon as it was possible—that’s always been the way with you.... Now I can sleep in comfort.” ...

Out in the kitchen Sörine sat waiting at the table; when she heard this she hurried to pour the coffee, intending to make him sit down and have a cup before he left.

“Must I have coffee here too?... No, no,” he said, jerking up his head. “I’ve had enough for to-day!” ...

With these words he went out.

He put on his skis, straightened himself up, and remained standing there for some time; as he pulled on his mittens he took one glance homeward. He could just make out the house in the dim distance. Then the whiteness all around it thickened—rose up in a cloud—seemed to be piling in. Whirls of snow flew high over the housetop—sometimes the house itself disappeared.... He sighed deeply, brushed his eyes with his mitts, and started on his way.

He took his bearings from familiar outlines of the landscape, and laid the course he thought he ought to follow.... Perhaps it wasn’t so dangerous, after all. The wind had been steady all day, had held in the same quarter, and would probably keep on.... Oh, well—here goes!...

He thought no more about his course for a while; but instead he began to wonder if he had done wrong in not going in to drink the coffee, when Beret had taken all the trouble to make it.... “Now she’ll go around feeling unhappy, just because I am so touchy; and she’ll be so melancholy that she’ll have little patience with the boys.... Such high-spirited colts need to be managed with a careful hand. She doesn’t understand that at all!” ... Thoughts of home continued to come, warm and tender; he laughed softly at them.... “You may be sure she’ll get Permand to remember me in his prayers to-night, if he doesn’t think of it himself.... It would be fun to listen to them!” ...

He moved slowly on with steady strokes, taking note of the wind at odd times. The picture would not leave him.... “It would be fun just to look in on them.... Oh, Permand, Permand! Something great must come of you—you who are so tenderly watched over!” ...

The swirling dusk grew deeper.... Darkness gathered fast.... More snow began to fall.... Whirls of it came off the tops of the drifts, circled about, and struck him full in the face.... No danger—the wind held steady.... At home all was well ... and now mother was saying her evening prayers with Permand.... Move on!—Move on!...

IX

About halfway across the stretch from Colton to the James River a cluster of low hills rear themselves out of the prairie. Here and there among them a few stray settlers had already begun to dig in.

On one of the hillsides stood an old haystack which a settler had left there when he found out that the coarse bottom hay wasn’t much good for fodder. One day during the spring after Hans Olsa had died, a troop of young boys were ranging the prairies, in search of some yearling cattle that had gone astray. They came upon the haystack, and stood transfixed. On the west side of the stack sat a man, with his back to the mouldering hay. This was in the middle of a warm day in May, yet the man had two pairs of skis along with him; one pair lay beside him on the ground, the other was tied to his back. He had a heavy stocking cap pulled well down over his forehead, and large mittens on his hands; in each hand he clutched a staff.... To the boys, it looked as though the man were sitting there resting while he waited for better skiing....

... His face was ashen and drawn. His eyes were set toward the west.

THE END

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Hopalong Cassidy Returns. Clarence E. Mulford.

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