Chapter IV: Introduction: I (2)

Per Hansa heaved a deep sigh; it came out before he could stop it.... Huh!—it was an easy matter enough for Hans Olsa! He had ample means, and could start out on a big scale from the beginning; he had a wife in whose heart there wasn’t a speck of fear!... The Lord only knew where they were now—whether they were east or west of him! And they had Tönseten, too, and his wife Kjersti,[3] both of them used to America. Why, they could talk the language and everything....

[3] The combination _kj_ in this name is pronounced like _ch_ in _church_; the final _i_ has the sound of _y_ in _godly_.

And then there were the Solum boys, who had actually been born in this country.... Indeed, east or west, it made no difference to them where they lay that night.

But here was he, the newcomer, who owned nothing and knew nothing, groping about with his dear ones in the endless wilderness!... Beret had taken such a dislike to this journey, too—although in many ways she was the more sensible of the two.... Well, he certainly had fixed up a nice mess for himself, and no mistake!

He wondered why he had ever left Fillmore County; as he lay there thinking it over, he couldn’t understand what had prompted him to do such a thing. He could easily have found a job there and stayed until his wife got up from childbed; then he could have moved west next spring. This had been what she had wanted, though she had never said it in so many words.

The quilt had grown oppressively heavy; he threw it aside.... How long it took her to go to sleep to-night! Why wouldn’t she try to get as much rest as possible? Surely she knew that it would be another tough day to-morrow?...

... Just so that confounded wagon didn’t go to pieces again!...

V

The night wore on. The children slept quietly and peacefully. The mother also seemed to have found rest at last. Per Hansa thought that she was sound asleep; he began to move slowly away from her. He threw his hand over on the quilt between them as if making a motion in his sleep.... No, she didn’t stir; he lay quiet for a while, then moved again. In so doing his hand happened to fall on that of Store-Hans; it was so chubby and round, that hand, so healthy and warm, and quite firm for the hand of only a child. Per Hansa lay still for a long time, holding the boy’s hand with a desperate earnestness.... Slowly the troublesome thoughts seemed to lighten and lift; his courage ebbed back again; surely everything would come out all right in the end!

Little by little he slipped the quilt off, crept out of bed as quietly as a mouse, got into his trousers, and pulled on his shoes.

Outside, the misty sheen of the moonlight shimmered so brightly that it blinded him. Near at hand, the prairie was bathed in a flood of tarnished green; farther off the faint blue tones began to appear, merging gradually into the purple dimness that shrouded all the horizon.

Per Hansa looked for the North Star, found it, turned about until he had it over his right shoulder; then he glanced at his watch, took a few steps, hesitated, and looked back as if taking a bearing of the wagons and the star. The next moment he faced about resolutely, and hurried off westward.

It felt good to be moving again; he almost broke into a trot. There were the oxen, busily grazing; they needed to get their fill all right, poor devils!... Rosie lay closer to the wagons; his eyes had passed over her at first, a dark spot in the vague, deceptive light. The cow must have noticed the shadow gliding along so swiftly; she gave a long moo.... This enraged Per Hansa; he broke into a run and got out of her sight as quickly as he could, for fear she would moo again.... If she only hadn’t waked Beret!

He set his course toward the point where he thought the crest of the ridge must lie. Now and then he stopped and looked around, to find out if he could still see the wagons. When he had lost them at last, and they were wholly swallowed up in the night, he gave an involuntary gasp—but clenched his teeth and went on.

The ridge lay farther off than he had thought. He had walked for a solid hour before he finally reached what he felt to be the highest point; he reckoned that he must be at least four miles from camp.... There he fell to examining the ground carefully; but first of all he looked at his watch again, and then at the North Star and the moon, trying to fix the bearings of the camp in his mind.

On the other side of the ridge the lay of the land seemed to be different; the slope was a little steeper; a thick underbrush covered it; through the tall bushes the moonlight shimmered strangely.... Per Hansa felt no fear, but every sense within him was alert. First he searched the northerly slope of the hill, beyond the edge of the thicket, stooping over as he went, his eyes scanning every foot of the ground. When he had found no trace of what he was looking for, he came back to the same starting point and searched an equal distance in the opposite direction; but he discovered nothing on this tack, either.

Now he began to walk along the edge of the thicket, in and out, crisscrossing the line in every direction; he pushed his way into each little grassless opening, and kicked over the earth there, before he went on. Sweat was running off him in streams. A quarter of an hour went by; he was still searching frantically.... All at once, right at the edge of the woods, he struck a piece of level ground with a larger clearing on it; in the middle of this clearing lay a wide, round patch in the grass. Per Hansa threw himself down on his knees, like a miser who has found a costly treasure; he bent over and sniffed the ground. His blood throbbed; his hands shook as he dug.... Yes, he was right—here there had been a fire! It couldn’t have been many days ago, either; the smell of the ashes was still fresh.... His eyes had grown so moist and dim that he had to wipe them.... But he wasn’t crying—no, not yet!...

He began to crawl around on all fours, farther and farther down the slope. Suddenly he stopped, sat up on his haunches, and held something in his hand that he was examining closely....

“I’ll be damned if it isn’t fresh horse dung!” ... His voice rang with a great joy. He tried the stuff between his fingers—crumbled it, sniffed at it ... there was no doubting the fact any longer.

Now he got up, walking erectly with a confident step, like a man who has just made a lucky strike, and began to search along the whole slope.... He might as well go ahead and find the ford to-night; then he wouldn’t be delayed by hunting for it in the morning. The underbrush thickened as he made his way down the slope.... Here, then, was Split Rock Creek; and here they had camped, as Tönseten had said they would!...

Once he had reached the edge of the creek, it did not take him long to find the ford that the others had used; the ruts still stood there plainly, as fresh and deep as if they had been made that very day. For a while he paused at the edge of the water, and looked about him.... Had they chosen the best crossing, after all? The bank of the creek on the other side formed a bend; the brink looked pretty steep. At last he waded out into the water, with his shoes still on.... Oh, well, the grade wasn’t so steep that the oxen couldn’t easily make it; there would be a bad jolt here at the edge, but after that they would have an even slope up the bank.... Stepping out on the opposite shore, he stood as if rooted to the ground.

... “What in the devil...!”

Per Hansa bent over and picked up the object that lay before him; he held it out in the moonlight, turned it over and over in his hands, smelled of it ... then took a bite.

... “By God! if it isn’t one of Hans Olsa’s dried mutton legs!”

He straightened himself up and gazed with deep thankfulness into the quivering bluish-green haze that glowed all around him.... “Yes, that’s the way it goes, when people have more than they can take care of!” ... He stuck the mutton leg under his arm; whistling a love ballad of Nordland, which seemed to have come into his mind unconsciously, he crossed the creek again.

On the way back he took his own time. Nothing mattered now; the night was fair and mild; his aching weariness was gone; he felt refreshed and strengthened. His wife and children were sleeping safe and sound; of food they still had supplies for a couple of weeks; and now he had found the trail again and could be certain of it all the way to Sioux Falls.... That wretched wagon was the only difficulty; it would have to hang together for a few days more!...

When he drew near enough to the wagons to make them out clearly in the moonlight, he slackened his pace, and a shiver passed over him.

Wasn’t some one sitting there on the wagon tongue? Surely that was a human form?

In growing apprehension, he hurried on.

“Good Heavens, Beret! What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?” His voice was full of alarm, yet softened by his great concern for her.

“It felt so awful to lie there alone, after you had gone.... I could hardly breathe ... so I got up.”

The words came with difficulty; he realized that her voice was hoarse with weeping; he had to pull himself sharply together in order to keep his own tears back.

“Were you awake, Beret?... You shouldn’t lie awake that way in the night!” he said, reproachfully.

“How can I sleep?... You lie there tossing back and forth, and say nothing!... You might have told me. I know very well what’s the matter!”

Suddenly she could stand it no longer. She ran over to him, flung her arms around his neck, and leaned close against him. The dam of her pent-up tears broke in a flood of emotion; she wept long and bitterly.

“Now calm yourself, dear.... You must calm yourself, Beret-girl!” ... He had put his arm lovingly around her, but found it hard to speak.... “Don’t you see that I’ve got one of Hans Olsa’s dried mutton legs under my arm?” ...

... That night Per Hansa was good to his wife.

II. Home-founding

I

On the side of a hill, which sloped gently away toward the southeast and followed with many windings a creek that wormed its way across the prairie, stood Hans Olsa, laying turf. He was building a sod house. The walls had now risen breast-high; in its half-finished condition, the structure resembled more a bulwark against some enemy than anything intended to be a human habitation. And the great heaps of cut sod, piled up in each corner, might well have been the stores of ammunition for defence of the stronghold.

For a man of his strength and massive build, his motions were unusually quick and agile; but he worked by fits and starts to-day. At times he stopped altogether; in these pauses he would straighten himself up and draw his sleeve with a quick stroke across his troubled face; with each stroke the sleeve would come away damper; and standing so, he would fix his gaze intently on the prairie to the eastward. His eyes had wandered so often now over the stretch of land lying before them, that they were familiar with every tussock and hollow.... No—nothing in sight yet!... He would resume his task, as if to make up for lost time, and work hard for a spell; only to forget himself once more, pause involuntarily, and stand inert and abstracted, gazing off into the distance.

Beyond the house a tent had been pitched; a wagon was drawn up close beside it. On the ground outside of the tent stood a stove, a couple of chairs, and a few other rough articles of furniture. A stout, healthy-looking woman, whose face radiated an air of simple wisdom and kindliness, was busy preparing the midday meal. She sang to herself as she worked. A ten-year-old girl, addressed by the woman as Sofie, was helping her. Now and then the girl would take up the tune and join in the singing.

Less than a quarter of a mile away, in a southeasterly direction, a finished sod house rose on the slope of the hill. Smoke was winding up from it at this moment. This house, which had been built the previous fall, belonged to Syvert Tönseten.

Some distance north from the place where Hans Olsa had located, two other sod houses were under construction; but a hillock lay between, so that he could not see them from where he stood. There the two Solum boys had driven down their stakes and had begun building. Tönseten’s completed house, and the other three half-finished ones, marked the beginning of the settlement on Spring Creek.

The woman who had been bustling about preparing the meal, now called to her husband that dinner was ready—he must come at once! He answered her, straightened up for the hundredth time, wiped his hands on his trousers, and stood for a moment gazing off eastward.... No use to look—not a soul in sight yet!... He sighed heavily, and walked with slow steps toward the tent, his eyes on the ground.

It was light and airy inside the tent, but stifling hot, because of the unobstructed sunlight beating down upon it. Two beds were ranged along the wall, both of them homemade; a big emigrant chest stood at the head of each. Nails had been driven into the centre pole of the tent, on which hung clothing; higher up a crosspiece, securely fastened, was likewise hung with clothes. Two of the walls were lined with furniture; on these pieces the dishes were displayed, all neatly arranged.

A large basin of water stood on a chair just inside the tent door. Hans Olsa washed his face and hands; then he came out and sat down on the ground, where his wife had spread the table. It was so much cooler outside. The meal was all ready; both mother and daughter had been waiting for him.

“I suppose you haven’t seen any signs of them yet?” his wife asked at last.

“No—nothing at all!”

“Can you imagine what has become of them?”

“The Lord forgive us—if I only knew!”

Her husband looked so anxious that she asked no more questions. Out of her kind heart rose a hopeful, “Don’t worry, they’ll get here all right!” ... But in spite of the cheerfulness of the words, she could not give them that ring of buoyant confidence which she would have liked to show.

... “Of course!” said the girl with a laugh. “Store-Hans and Ola have two good pairs of eyes. Leave it to them—they’ll find us!”

The father gave her a stern glance; he didn’t tell her in words to stop her foolish chatter—but she said no more. Without speaking once, he ate his dinner. As soon as he had finished, he tossed his spoon on the blanket, thanked them for the food, got up gloomily, and went back to the hal-fcompleted wall. There he sat down awhile, as if lost in thought ... gazing eastward. His large, rugged features were drawn and furrowed with anxiety.... “God Almighty!” he sighed, and folded his big hands. “What can have become of Per Hansa?”

His wife was watching him closely as he sat there on the wall. By and by she told her daughter to finish washing the dishes, and started to go over where he was. When he saw her coming, he tried to begin working as if there were nothing on his mind.

“Hans,” she said, quickly, when she had reached his side, “I think you ought to go out and look for them!”

He waited until he had got a strip of sod in place before he answered: “Easier said than done ... when we haven’t the faintest idea where to look ... on such stretches of prairie!”

“Yes, I know; but it would make us all feel better, anyway ... as if we were doing something.”

Hans Olsa laid another strip of turf; then he stopped, let his hands fall to his sides, and began thinking aloud as he gazed off into the distance....

“I know this much—you don’t often find a smarter fellow than Per Hansa.... That’s what makes it so queer! I don’t suppose he’s able to get much speed out of his oxen; but one thing I’m certain of—he has been hurrying as fast as he could. And we surely didn’t come along very fast ... but now it’s the fifth day since we arrived here! If he made use of these bright moonlight nights, as he probably did, I begin to be afraid that he’s gone on west of us somewhere, instead of being still to the eastward.... It’s certainly no child’s play to start looking for him!”

Hans Olsa slumped down on the wall, the picture of dejection. His wife quickly found a place beside him. Together they sat there in silence. The same fear that she felt him struggling with, a fear thrown into sharp relief by the things he had just been saying, had long since gripped her heart also.

“I feel so sorry for Beret, poor thing ... and the children. You must remember, though, that he couldn’t go very fast on account of her condition.... I think she is with child again!” She paused. “I dreamed about them last night ... a bad dream....”

Her husband glanced sidewise at her. “We mustn’t pay attention to such things. A bad dream is a good sign, anyway—that’s what my mother always said.... But I suppose I’ll never forgive myself for not waiting for him.” He got up heavily and laid another strip of turf. “He’s always been like that, Per Hansa; he never would take help from any man. But this time he’s carried it a little too far!”

His wife made no answer. She was watching a short stout man with a reddish beard who had started up the slope from the direction of the house to the south of them. He had cheeks like two rosy apples, a quick step, and eyes that flitted all about; he was noted among them for his glib tongue and the flood of his conversation. With hands stuck into the waistband of his trousers, and elbows out akimbo, the man looked half as broad again as he really was.

“Here comes Tönseten,” said the woman. “Why don’t you talk it over with him? I really think you ought to go out and look for them.”

“Seen anything of them yet, Hans Olsa?” asked the man, without further greeting, as soon as he arrived.... “Well, well! this looks fine! Ha, ha! It’s a warm house, you know, that’s built by the aid of a woman’s hand.”

Hans Olsa wheeled on him. “You haven’t caught sight of them yourself, Syvert, have you?”

“Caught sight of them? Why, man alive, that’s just what I’ve come up here to tell you! I’ve had them in sight for over an hour now. Seems to me you ought to be able to see them easy enough—you who carry your eyes so high up in the air!... Good Lord! it won’t be long before they arrive here, at the rate they’re coming!”

“What’s that you say?” the others burst out with one voice.... “Where are they?” ...

“I reckon Per Hansa must have got off his course a little. Maybe the oxen didn’t steer well, or maybe he didn’t figure the current right.... Look to the westward, neighbours! Look over there about west-northwest, and you’ll see him plain enough.... No need to worry. That fellow never would drown in such shallow water as this!... I wonder, now, how far west he’s really been?”

Hans Olsa and his wife faced around in the direction that Tönseten had indicated. Sure enough, out of the west a little caravan was crawling up toward them on the prairie.

“Can that be them?... I really believe it is!” said Hans Olsa in a half whisper, as if hardly daring yet to give vent to his joy.

“_Of course_ it is!” cried his wife, excitedly.... “Thank God!”

“Not the least doubt of it,” Tönseten assured them. “You might as well go and put your coffeepot on the stove, Mother Sörrina![4] That Kjersti of mine is coming over pretty soon; she’ll probably have something good tucked under her apron.... In half an hour we’ll have the lost sheep back in the fold!”

[4] The name properly is Sörine, with the accent on the second syllable; but in the dialect of Helgeland it is pronounced Sörrina, with the accent on the first. These people all came from the district of Helgeland, in Norway.

“Yes! Heavens and earth, Sörrina!” cried Hans Olsa, “fetch out the best you’ve got!... Per, Per, is it really you, old boy?... But why are you coming from the west, I’d like to know?”

Tönseten coughed, and gave the woman a sly wink.

“Look here, Mother Sörrina,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes, “won’t you be good enough, please, to take a peek at Hans Olsa’s Sunday bottle?... Not that _I_ want anything to drink, you understand—I should say not. Good Lord, no! But think of that poor woman out there, who has been suffering all this time without a drop! And I’d be willing to bet that Per Hansa wouldn’t object to having his stomach warmed up a little, too!”

At that they burst out laughing, from mingled joy and relief; but Tönseten’s laughter at his own joke was the loudest of all.... Work was resumed at once; Syvert began to carry the sods for Hans Olsa to lay up, while Mother Sörrina went off in a happy frame of mind, to make her preparations for the reception of the wanderers.

Before the half hour allotted by Tönseten had passed, the caravan came slowly crawling up the slope. Per Hansa still strode in the van, with Store-Hans at his side; Ole walked abreast of the oxen, driving them with the goad. Beret and And-Ongen sat in the wagon. Rosie came jogging along behind at her own gait; she gave a loud, prolonged “moo-o-o-o” as she discovered the other animals across the prairie.

Both families stood ready to receive them; Hans Olsa and Sörine, Tönseten and his Kjersti, all watching intently the movements of the approaching company; but the girl couldn’t possess her patience any longer, and ran down to meet the new arrivals. She took Store-Hans by the hand and fell in beside him; the first question she asked was whether he hadn’t been terribly scared at night?...

As the slope of the hill grew steeper, the oxen had to bend to the yoke.

“Hey, there, folks!” shouted Per Hansa, boisterously. “Don’t be standing around loafing, now! It’s only the middle of the afternoon. Haven’t you got anything to do around here?”

“Coffee time, coffee time, Per Hansa ... ha, ha, ha!” Tönseten was bubbling over with good spirits. “We thought we might as well wait a little while for you, you know.”

... “You’ve found us at last!” said Hans Olsa, with a deep, happy chuckle.... He didn’t seem able to let go of Per Hansa’s hand.

“Found you? Why, devil take it, it’s no trick to follow a course out here! You just have to keep on steering straight ahead. And you had marked the trail pretty well, all the way along. I found plenty of traces of you.... I guess we stood a little too far to the westward, between Sioux Falls and here; that’s how it happened.... So this is the place, is it?... The pastures of Goshen in the land of Egypt—eh?”

“Just so, just so!” cried Tönseten, nodding and laughing. “Pastures of Goshen—right you are! That’s exactly what we are going to call the place—_Goshen_—if only you haven’t sailed in to mix things up for us!” ...

Beret and the child had now got down from the wagon; the other two women hovered around her, drawing her toward the tent. But she hung back for a moment; she wanted to stop and look around.

... Was this the place?... _Here!..._ Could it be possible?... She stole a glance at the others, at the half-completed hut, then turned to look more closely at the group standing around her; and suddenly it struck her that _here something was about to go wrong_.... For several days she had sensed this same feeling; she could not seem to tear herself loose from the grip of it.... A great lump kept coming up in her throat; she swallowed hard to keep it back, and forced herself to look calm. Surely, surely, she mustn’t give way to her tears now, in the midst of all this joy....

Then she followed the other two women into the tent; seeing a chair, she sank down in it, as if her strength had gone!

Sörine was patting her on the shoulder.... “Come, get your things off, Beret. You ought to loosen up your clothes, you know. Just throw this dress of mine around you.... Here’s the water to wash yourself in. Let down your hair, and take your time about it.... Don’t mind Kjersti and me being around.”

After they had bustled about for a little while the others left her. The moment they had gone she jumped up and crossed the tent, to look out of the door.... How will human beings be able to endure this place? she thought. Why, there isn’t even a thing that one can _hide behind_!... Her sensitive, rather beautiful face was full of blank dismay; she turned away from the door and began to loosen her dress; then her eyes fell on the centre pole with its crosspiece, hung with clothes, and she stood a moment irresolute, gazing at it in startled fright.... It looked like the giants she had read about as a child; for a long while she was unable to banish the picture from her mind.

Outside the tent, Ole stood with his hand resting on one of the oxen. He was disgusted; the older people seemed to have clean forgotten his existence. They never would get done talking—when he, too, might have had a word to put in!...

“Hadn’t we better unhitch the oxen, Dad?”

“Yes, yes—that’s right, Ola. We might as well camp down here for the night, since we’ve run across some folks we used to know.... How about it, you fellows?” He turned to the other two. “I suppose there’s a little more land left around here, isn’t there, after you’ve got through?”

“_Land_? Good God! Per Hansa, what are you talking about? Take whatever you please, from here to the Pacific Ocean!” Tönseten’s enthusiasm got so far away with him that he had to pull one of his hands out of his waistband and make a sweeping circle with it in the air.

“You must take a look around as soon as you can,” Hans Olsa said, “and see if you find anything better that meets your fancy. In the meanwhile I’ve put down a stake for you on the quarter section that lies north of mine. We’ll go over and have a look at it pretty soon. Sam Solum wanted it, but I told him he’d better leave it till you came.... You see, you would be next to the creek there; and then you and I would be the nearest neighbours, just as we’ve always planned. It makes no particular difference to Sam; he can take the quarter alongside his brother’s.”

Per Hansa drew a deep breath, as if filling himself with life’s great goodness.... Here Hans Olsa had been worrying about him, and with kindly forethought had arranged everything to his advantage!... “Well, well, we’ll have to settle all that later, Hans Olsa. For the present, I can only say that I’m deeply thankful to you!... Unhitch the beasts, there, Ola!... And now, if you folks have got anything handy, to either eat or drink, I’ll accept it with pleasure.”

... “Or _both_, Per Hansa!” put in Tönseten, excitedly.

“Yes, both, Syvert. I won’t refuse!”

Soon they were all gathered around a white cloth which Mother Sörine had spread on the ground. On one side of it lay a whole leg of dried mutton; on the other a large heap of _flatbröd_, with cheese, bread, and butter; in the centre of the cloth stood a large bowl of sweet milk, and from the direction of the stove the breeze wafted to them a pleasant odour of fried bacon and strong coffee. Mother Sörine herself took charge of the ceremony, bringing the food and urging them all to sit down. The stocky figure of Per Hansa rocked back and forth in blissful delight as he squatted there with his legs crossed under him.

“Come, Sörrina, sit down!” he cried. “I guess we’ve fallen in with gentlefolks, by the looks of things around here.... I suppose you think you’re old Pharaoh himself—eh, Hans Olsa?”

“Who do you call me, then?” inquired Tönseten.

“You, Syvert? Well, now, I really don’t know what to say. Of course you’d like to be His Majesty’s butler, but you mustn’t be encouraged—remember what happened to that poor fellow!... I think we’d better make you the baker—it might be safer, all around. What’s your idea, Hans Olsa?”

By this time they were all laughing together.

In the midst of the jollification came Sörine, carrying a plate with a large bottle and a dram glass[5] on it.... “Here, take this off my hands, Hans Olsa—you will know what to do with it!”

[5] This bottle and glass would have been old family pieces from Norway, the bottle shaped something like an hourglass, with a contraction in the middle to be grasped by the hand.

Tönseten fairly bubbled over in his admiration for her:

“Oh, you sweet Sörrina-girl!—you’re dearer to my heart than a hundred women!... What a blessing it must be, to have a wife like that!”

“Stop your foolishness!” said Kjersti, but her voice didn’t sound too severe.

For a long while they continued to sit around the cloth, chatting, eating, and drinking, and thoroughly enjoying themselves. Hans Olsa seemed like a different man from the one who had eaten here at noon. His loud voice led the cheerful talk; his ponderous bulk was always the centre of the merriment; it seemed as if he would never tire of gazing into that bearded, roguish face of Per Hansa’s.

Once, as Per Hansa was slicing off a piece of mutton, he regarded the cut thoughtfully, and asked:

“I suppose you brought all your supplies through safe enough?”

“Oh, sure,” answered Hans Olsa, innocently. “We had no trouble at all—didn’t lose anything; that is, except for the leg that we left behind somewhere, east on the prairie. But that’s hardly worth mentioning.”

Per Hansa paused with the piece of meat halfway to his mouth, and looked at Sörine with an expression of deep concern:

“The devil you say! Did you lose one of your legs...?”

Mother Sörine laughed heartily at him. “Oh no—not quite so bad as that.... But a leg of mutton might come in handy later on, I’ll tell you; there aren’t too many of them to be had around here.”

Per Hansa chewed away on the meat and looked very serious. At last he said:

“That’s always the way with folks who have more of the world’s goods than they can take care.... But I’ll promise you one thing, Sörrina: if I can get my old blunderbuss to work, you’re going to have your lost leg back again.... How about it, fellows? Have you seen any game that’s fit to eat out here?”

III

They sat on until the first blue haze of evening began to spread eastward over the plain. The talk had now drifted to questions of a more serious nature, mostly concerned with how they should manage things out here; of their immediate prospects; of what the future might hold in store for them; of land and crops, and of the new kingdom which they were about to found.... No one put the thought into words, but they all felt it strongly; now they had gone back to the very beginning of things....

As the evening shadows deepened the conversation gradually died away into silence. A peculiar mood came drifting in with the dusk. It seemed to float on the evening breeze, to issue forth out of the heart of the untamed nature round about them; it lurked in the very vastness and endlessness surrounding them on every hand; it even seemed to rise like an impalpable mist out of the ground on which they sat.

This mood brought vague premonitions to them, difficult to interpret.... No telling what might happen out here ... for almost anything _could_ happen!...

They were so far from the world ... cut off from the haunts of their fellow beings ... so terribly far!...

The faces that gazed into one another were sober now, as silence claimed the little company; but lines of strength and determination on nearly every countenance told of an inward resolve to keep the mood of depression from gaining full control.

Per Hansa was the first to rouse himself and throw off the spell. He jumped up with nervous energy; a shiver passed over him, as if he were having a chill.

“What is it—are you cold?” asked his wife. She had instinctively sensed his mood as she looked at him—and loved him better for it. Until that moment, she had supposed that she herself was the only one who felt this peculiar influence.

“Such crazy talk!” he burst out. “I believe we’ve all lost our senses, every last one of us! Here we sit around celebrating in broad daylight, in the middle of summer, as if it was the Christmas holidays!... Come on, woman, let’s go over to our new home!”

Everyone got up.

“You must do exactly as you please about it, Per Hansa,” spoke up Hans Olsa with an apologetic air. “Don’t feel that you must take this quarter if you don’t like it. But as far as I can see, it’s as good a piece of land as you could find anywhere around—every square foot of it plowland, except the hill over there. Plenty of water for both man and beast.... As for my part, if I can only sit here between you and Syvert, I certainly won’t be kicking about my neighbours.... But I don’t want you to feel that you have to take this quarter on my account, you understand.... If you do take it, though, we must get one of the Solum boys to go down to Sioux Falls with you the first thing to-morrow, so that you can file your claim. You’ll have to do that in any case, you know, whichever quarter you take.... There’s likely to be a lot of people moving into this region before the snow flies; we five oughtn’t to part company or let anyone get in between us.... You’ve heard my best advice, anyway.”

“Now, that’s the talk!” Tönseten chimed in, briskly. “And considering the size of the head it comes from, it isn’t half bad, either. You’re damned well right, Hans Olsa. Before the snow flies you’re going to see such a multitude swarming around these parts, that the thundering place won’t be fit to live in! Remember what I say, boys, in times to come—bear it in mind that those were Syvert’s very words!... You’ve got to go straight to Sioux Falls to-morrow morning, Per Hansa, and no two ways about it! If one of the Solum boys can’t go along to do the talking for you, why, I shall have to buckle down to the job myself.”

Once more Per Hansa’s heart filled with a deep sense of peace and contentment as he realized how matters were being smoothed out for him. They seemed to move of their own accord, but he knew better.... Was he really to own it? Was it really to become his possession, this big stretch of fine land that spread here before him? Was he really to have his friends for neighbours, both to the north and to the south—folks who cared for him and wanted to help him out in every way?...

He was still chuckling with the rare pleasure of it as he asked, “You haven’t discovered any signs of life since you came?”

“Devil, no!” Tönseten assured him. “Neither Israelites nor Canaanites! I was the first one to find this place, you know.... But there’s no telling how soon the drift will loosen, the way folks were talking back East last winter. And now the land office for this whole section of country has been moved to Sioux Falls, too. That means business; the government, you may be certain, has good reason for doing such a thing.” Tönseten spoke with all the importance of a man who has inside knowledge.

Per Hansa looked at him, and a bantering tone came into his voice:

“I see it clearly, Syvert—it would never do to keep you around here as a mere baker! We’ll have to promote you to a higher office, right away.... Now, boys, I’m going over to see this empire that you two have set aside for me. Ola, you hitch up the oxen again and bring the wagons along.”

With these commands he walked rapidly away; the others had almost to run in order to keep up with him. Strong emotions surged through him as he strode on....

“It lies high,” he observed after a while, when they had looked all the plowland over.... “There must be a fine view from the top of that hill.”

They were bending their steps in this direction, and soon had reached the highest point. It seemed so spacious and beautiful to stand high above the prairie and look around, especially now, when the shades of evening were falling.... Suddenly Per Hansa began to step more cautiously; he sniffed the air like an animal; in a moment he stopped beside a small depression in the ground, and stood gazing at it intently for quite a while; then he said, quietly:

“There are people buried here.... That is a grave!”

“Oh no, Per Hansa! It can’t be possible.”

“No doubt about it,” he said in the same subdued but positive tone.

Tönseten and Hans Olsa were so astonished that they could hardly credit the fact; they came over at once to where Per Hansa stood, and gazed down into the hollow.

Hans Olsa bent over and picked up a small stone that his eyes had lighted on; he turned it around in his hand several times.... “That’s a queer-looking piece of stone! I almost believe people have shaped it for some use.... Here, see what you make of it, Syvert.”

Tönseten’s ruddy face grew sober and thoughtful as he examined the object.

“By thunder! It certainly looks as if the Indians had been here!... Now isn’t that rotten luck?” ...

“I’m afraid so,” said Per Hansa, with a vigorous nod. Then he added, sharply, “But we needn’t shout the fact from the house-tops, you know!... It takes so very little to scare some folks around here.”

He waited no longer but walked hastily down the hill; at the foot he called to Ole, telling him not to drive any farther; but first he turned to Hans Olsa to find out whether they were well across the line between the two quarters.

“No use in building farther away from you than is absolutely necessary,” he said. “It’s going to be lonesome for the women-folks at times.” ...

... Awhile later, Tönseten was dragging his way homeward. For reasons that he wouldn’t admit even to himself, he walked a good deal heavier now than when he had climbed the slope that afternoon.

Per Hansa returned with his other neighbour to the wagons, where Beret and the children were waiting. Again he inquired about the line between the two quarters; then asked Beret and Hans Olsa to help pick the best building place; his words, though few and soberly spoken, had in them an unmistakable ring of determination.... This vast stretch of beautiful land was to be his—yes, _his_—and no ghost of a dead Indian would drive him away!... His heart began to expand with a mighty exaltation. An emotion he had never felt before filled him and made him walk erect.... “Good God!” he panted. “This kingdom is going to be _mine_!”

IV

Early the next morning Per Hansa and one of the Solum boys set out on the fifty-two-mile journey to Sioux Falls, where Per Hansa filed an application for the quarter-section of land which lay to the north of Hans Olsa’s. To confirm the application, he received a temporary deed to the land. The deed was made out in the name of _Peder Benjamin Hansen_; it contained a description of the land, the conditions which he agreed to fulfil in order to become the owner, and the date, _June 6, 1873_.

Sörine wanted Beret and the children to stay with her during the two days that her husband would be away; but she refused the offer with thanks. If they were to get ready a home for the summer, she said, she would have to take hold of matters right away.

... “For the summer?” exclaimed the other woman, showing her astonishment. “What about the winter, then?”

Beret saw that she had uttered a thought which she ought to have kept to herself; she evaded the question as best she could.

During the first day, both she and the boys found so much to do that they hardly took time to eat. They unloaded both the wagons, set up the stove, and carried out the table. Then Beret arranged their bedroom in the larger wagon. With all the things taken out it was quite roomy in there; it made a tidy bedroom when everything had been put in order. The boys thought this work great fun, and she herself found some relief in it for her troubled mind. But something vague and intangible hovering in the air would not allow her to be wholly at ease; she had to stop often and look about, or stand erect and listen.... Was that a sound she heard?... All the while, the thought that had struck her yesterday when she had first got down from the wagon, stood vividly before her mind: here there was nothing even to hide behind!... When the room was finished, and a blanket had been hung up to serve as a door, she seemed a little less conscious of this feeling. But back in the recesses of her mind it still was there....

After they had milked the cow, eaten their evening porridge, and talked awhile to the oxen, she took the boys and And-Ongen and strolled away from camp. With a common impulse, they went toward the hill; when they had reached the summit, Beret sat down and let her gaze wander aimlessly around.... In a certain sense, she had to admit to herself, it was lovely up here. The broad expanse stretching away endlessly in every direction, seemed almost like the ocean—especially now, when darkness was falling. It reminded her strongly of the sea, and yet it was very different.... This formless prairie had no heart that beat, no waves that sang, no soul that could be touched ... or cared....

The infinitude surrounding her on every hand might not have been so oppressive, might even have brought her a measure of peace, if it had not been for the deep silence, which lay heavier here than in a church. Indeed, what was there to break it? She had passed beyond the outposts of civilization; the nearest dwelling places of men were far away. Here no warbling of birds rose on the air, no buzzing of insects sounded;[6] even the wind had died away; the waving blades of grass that trembled to the faintest breath now stood erect and quiet, as if listening, in the great hush of the evening.... All along the way, coming out, she had noticed this strange thing: the stillness had grown deeper, the silence more depressing, the farther west they journeyed; it must have been over two weeks now since she had heard a bird sing! Had they travelled into some nameless, abandoned region? Could no living thing exist out here, in the empty, desolate, endless wastes of green and blue?... How _could_ existence go on, she thought, desperately? If life is to thrive and endure, it must at least have something to hide behind!...

[6] Original settlers are agreed that there was neither bird nor insect life on the prairie, with the exception of mosquitoes, the first year that they came.

The children were playing boisterously a little way off. What a terrible noise they made! But she had better let them keep on with their play, as long as they were happy.... She sat perfectly quiet, thinking of the long, oh, so interminably long march that they would have to make, back to the place where human beings dwelt. It would be small hardship for her, of course, sitting in the wagon; but she pitied Per Hansa and the boys—and then the poor oxen!... He certainly would soon find out for himself that a home for men and women and children could never be established in this wilderness.... And how could she bring new life into the world out here!...

Slowly her thoughts began to centre on her husband; they grew warm and tender as they dwelt on him. She trembled as they came....

But only for a brief while. As her eyes darted nervously here and there, flitting from object to object and trying to pierce the purple dimness that was steadily closing in, a sense of desolation so profound settled upon her that she seemed unable to think at all. It would not do to gaze any longer at the terror out there, where everything was turning to grim and awful darkness.... She threw herself back in the grass and looked up into the heavens. But darkness and infinitude lay there, also—the sense of utter desolation still remained.... Suddenly, for the first time, she realized the full extent of her loneliness, the dreadful nature of the fate that had overtaken her. Lying there on her back, and staring up into the quiet sky across which the shadows of night were imperceptibly creeping, she went over in her mind every step of their wanderings, every mile of the distance they had travelled since they had left home....

First they had boarded the boat at Sandnessjöen.... This boat had carried them southward along the coast.... In Namsos there had been a large ship with many white sails, that had taken her, with her dear ones, and sailed away—that had carried them off relentlessly, farther and farther from the land they knew. In this ship they had sailed for weeks; the weeks had even grown into months; they had seemed to be crossing an ocean which had no end.... There had been something almost laughable in this blind course, steadily fixed on the sunset! When head winds came, they beat up against them; before sweeping fair breezes they scudded along; but always they were westering!...

... At last they had landed in Quebec. There she had walked about the streets, confused and bewildered by a jargon of unintelligible sounds that did not seem like the speech of people.... Was this the Promised Land? Ah no—it was only the beginning of the real journey.... Then something within her had risen up in revolt: I will go no farther!...

... But they had kept on, just the same—had pushed steadily westward, over plains, through deserts, into towns, and out of them again.... One fine day they had stood in Detroit, Michigan. This wasn’t the place, either, it seemed.... Move on!... Once more she had felt the spirit of revolt rising to shout aloud: I will go no farther!... But it had been as if a resistless flood had torn them loose from their foundations and was carrying them helplessly along on its current—flinging them here and there, hurling them madly onward, with no known destination ahead.

Farther and farther onward ... always west.... For a brief while there had been a chance to relax once more; they had travelled on water again, and she could hear the familiar splash of waves against the ship’s side. This language she knew of old, and did not fear; it had lessened the torture of that section of the journey for her, though they had been subjected to much ill-treatment and there had been a great deal of bullying and brawling on board.

At last the day had arrived when they had landed in Milwaukee. But here they were only to make a new start—to take another plunge into the unknown.... Farther, and always farther.... The relentless current kept whirling them along.... Was it bound nowhere, then?... Did it have no end?...

In the course of time they had come jogging into a place called Prairie du Chien.... Had that been in Wisconsin, or some other place named after savages?... It made no difference—they had gone on. They had floundered along to Lansing, in Iowa.... Onward again. Finally they had reached Fillmore County, in Minnesota.... But even that wasn’t the place, it seemed!...

... Now she was lying here on a little green hillock, surrounded by the open, endless prairie, far off in a spot from which no road led back!... It seemed to her that she had lived many lives already, in each one of which she had done nothing but wander and wander, always straying farther away from the home that was dear to her.

She sat up at last, heaved a deep sigh, and glanced around as if waking from a dream.... The unusual blending of the gentle and forceful in her features seemed to be thrown into relief by the scene in which she sat and the twilight hovering about her, as a beautiful picture is enhanced by a well-chosen frame.

The two boys and their little sister were having great fun up here. So many queer things were concealed under the tufts of grass. Store-Hans came running, and brought a handful of little flat, reddish chips of stone that looked as though they had been carved out of the solid rock; they were pointed at one end and broadened out evenly on both sides, like the head of a spear. The edges were quite sharp; in the broad end a deep groove had been filed. Ole brought more of them, and gave a couple to his little sister to play with.... The mother sat for a while with the stones in her lap, where the children had placed them; at last she took them up, one by one, and examined them closely.... These must have been formed by human hands, she thought.

Suddenly Ole made another rare discovery. He brought her a larger stone, that looked like a sledge hammer; in this the groove was deep and broad.

The mother got up hastily.

“Where are you finding these things?”

The boys at once took her to the place; in a moment she, too, was standing beside the little hollow at the brow of the hill, which the men had discovered the night before; the queer stones that the children had been bringing her lay scattered all around.

“Ola says that the Indians made them!” cried Store-Hans, excitedly. “Is it true, mother?... Do you suppose they’ll ever come back?”

“Yes, maybe—if we stay here long enough....” She remained standing awhile beside the hollow; the same thought possessed her that had seized hold of her husband when he had first found the spot—here a human being lay buried. Strangely enough, it did not frighten her; it only showed her more plainly, in a stronger, harsher light, how unspeakably lonesome this place was.