Chapter VII: Introduction: I (5)

Tönseten was breaking some new land, with Sam as helper; from his high lookout, Per Hansa had just noticed how well Syvert was getting along with his field. But wait a bit, my good Syvert, wait a bit!... Per Hansa simply didn’t feel like hurrying to-day. He shouted down once more to Beret, asking her to see whether the roof would hold water; that was one of his little jokes. The point was this: it had sounded so pleasant to hear her voice in the room below while he had been working on the roof; but now that the thatch was on, the low tone in which she naturally spoke didn’t carry through the thickness of the sod; he missed hearing her, and liked to make her shout now and then.... He seemed to notice that she was growing better satisfied with things as they were out here.

Henry Solum was digging a well down by the creek. Everyone was busy with his own particular task; the little frontier settlement hummed with the keen joy of labour.

... Then the blow fell upon them—suddenly!

Kjersti noticed it first. At lunch time she had brought out a bite to eat and a drop of coffee for the men. Plenty reigned just now, after the trip to town. As she was about to enter her own house again it occurred to her that she hadn’t seen Brindlesides, either on the way over or on the way back.... The cow must have been in sight, somewhere around. She turned and walked a little way beyond the corner of the house, then stopped and surveyed the scene.... Kjersti kept on looking until her eyes watered—until she could hear the heavy pounding of her heart; but her cow was not to be seen on the whole wide prairie ... and not a single one of the other critters, either!

In her wild excitement she ran straight to Sörine’s and rushed into the house, crying:

“Have you any idea where your cow is?”

“My cow...?” Sörine noticed her agitated face, and could not say another word.

“That’s just what I said, Sörrina!... Where is she—where is she?... Oh, merciful Heaven!” ...

“You are scaring the life out of me, Kjersti! The cow must be right around here.” ... But she didn’t wait for an answer; the women rushed out of the house together.

... Sure enough, no cows in sight anywhere!

“I can’t understand it!” exclaimed Sörine.... “Can you?”

“They’ve run away!” cried Kjersti in despair.

“Of course they couldn’t have sunk through the earth!” Sörine was always a sensible woman in a crisis.

“Oh, where are they?” wailed Kjersti. “Where have they gone?”

“We must tell the men this minute!” declared Sörine, firmly. She saw that it was no use to waste time in waiting for her neighbour; leaving Kjersti to look after herself, she hastened over to where her husband was working.

Hans Olsa pulled up the horses abruptly when he saw the two women straggling across the field.

... The cows? Oh, nothing worse than that!... Well, he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the cows; but they must be around somewhere.... He was in such high spirits because of the smooth way the new machine was running, and of the ease with which they would now be able to get all the hay they needed, that he felt as if nothing could worry him to-day.... It was a sin how nervous these women were. Good Lord! the cows would show up all right at milking time!

“We must begin to search for them at once!” ... Sörine was so earnest and determined about it, that almost unconsciously he found himself looking around.... Strange, not a beast to be seen!... Then he, too, became serious; he unhitched the horses, tied one of them to the mowing machine, mounted the other, and rode up the hill.

“We must go and tell Per Hansa!” said Sörine, briskly.

“Oh, what’s the use!” wailed Kjersti, wringing her hands. “You can see for yourself that they are gone!... Yes, gone—and if anyone is to find them, we’ll have to do it!”

Sörine was now both angry and frightened—angry with Kjersti, frightened over the cows. She hurried on ahead, the other trailing after.

But there was no information to be had at Per Hansa’s, either. None of them there had thought of keeping an eye on the cows; the animals had gone around loose every day, and had invariably come home at milking time in the evening; they never had been in the habit of straying so far away that they couldn’t be seen.... Ole could distinctly remember having noticed them over by the creek, that very forenoon.

Per Hansa took the matter calmly and made a comforting suggestion; the cows were probably lying down in the tall grass, somewhere along the creek; they’d turn up safe and sound when it came milking time.... But just then Hans Olsa rode up with a very sober face and related that he hadn’t seen a sign of life stirring on the whole prairie!

When Hans Olsa took it that way, and spoke so seriously, Per Hansa, too, began to get worried; he and the boys at once came down from the roof.

“Take the pony, Ola, and ride down to the creek. Search upstream first, then turn and go south. If you don’t see anything, you’d better notify the Solum boys and Tönseten.” ... Per Hansa still believed that the cows would come back all right of their own accord; but he proposed that they all should quit work fairly early; then if the cows hadn’t shown up they could get together and decide what was best to be done. For surely the gnomes hadn’t taken them underground....

IX

The evening wore on; outside of every hut the settlers stood watching, but no cows appeared. The uneasiness deepened, and that sneaking dread which comes to all when life about them has suddenly and mysteriously disappeared.... The wind blew from the southwest, driving heavy rain clouds; they hung so low that the grass seemed to bend as they swept over it where the plain swelled up to meet the sky.

A depressing gloom hovered over each of the four families sitting around the supper table. At Per Hansa’s, little And-Ongen wept bitterly and inconsolably because she hadn’t been taken along to pet Rosie while her mother milked. As they were sitting down to supper, the child had asked if they weren’t going to milk the cow to-night; Beret didn’t have the heart to tell her what had happened, and said hastily that she had milked already. The child felt that a great injustice had been done her—that she had been defrauded of something which was hers by right. She had burst out crying and had wanted to go to Rosie at once; but the mother had said: No, Rosie had gone away as soon as she had given her milk, and would not come back till to-morrow. And-Ongen had hung tearfully around her mother’s neck, trying to make her promise never to go milking again unless she took her along. The mother had comforted her as best she could; although she had not said much, it had been more affecting to look at her than at the child.

Store-Hans listened to them until, all at once, he had to lay his spoon aside. He couldn’t have swallowed another mouthful of his porridge. He got up quietly, his eyes on the floor, slipped outside, and ran behind the house.... The very thought of eating was horrible; every spoonful had threatened to choke him. It had seemed as if he were dipping the spoon in Rosie’s very blood.... And dear Rosie, around whose neck he had put his arms so many times, resting his cheek against her soft skin.... He felt now that he loved her almost more than any living being in the world!

The elder brother, who considered himself a full-grown man, had remained at the table, gulping down large mouthfuls of milk and porridge with an indifferent air. He noticed his brother go out; then he said in a loud voice, just let the cows wait till he got hold of them! He’d lash their hides so thoroughly that they wouldn’t ever dare to play that trick again!... His father shot a glance at the boy, which silenced him immediately. The next moment he, too, had lost his appetite and laid his spoon aside. After a while he went out; though he could hear where his brother was, by certain unmistakable sounds, he did not try to find him; instead he climbed up on the roof and sat down there alone.

A little later the whole colony gathered on top of the Indian hill near Per Hansa’s. Per Hansa himself, with Beret and the child, came last of all, although they had the shortest distance to walk. Away behind them Ole sauntered along; but Store-Hans was nowhere to be seen. The evening lay heavily on the plain. Toward the south, where the clouds were massing together, it was already deepening into night. No life, no sound—only the wind moaning under a lowering sky.... The evening brought memories to them—memories of half-forgotten tales which people had heard and repeated long, long ago, about happenings away off in a far country. There it had been known to have actually taken place, that both man and beast would be spirited away by trolls.... So many strange things were hovering between heaven and earth, if one stopped to think ... and remember!... But that anything of the sort could happen out here on the open prairie, where not so much as a single jutting cliff or wooded ridge appeared, that was the strangest of all!

The folk stood around in gloomy silence; each was thinking the same thoughts.

... “They _must_ be down by the creek!” repeated Tönseten for the hundredth time.

The hopelessness in his voice struck the same chord of desolation that possessed them all; no one had courage to ask Tönseten what he supposed could have happened to the cows down there. When he got no answer, he added with an even deeper note of melancholy:

... “Talk about mystery!”

The wind swept over them with a chilly breath, now and then flicking a drop of rain from the dense clouds. Sam Solum rose from where he had been sitting on the ground, and began to walk up and down as if he had made up his mind.

“In my opinion,” he announced, firmly, “it’s the doings of the red man!... He’s at his work again!”

All turned to look at him.

“You saw how crazy mad the cows acted that night when the Indians came? Well, most likely they noticed it, too, and have come back here after them. That’s where we’ll have to look for our cows, my friends!” ... Sam spoke in a bold, convincing voice; now he had solved the riddle for them and felt very superior.

His idea at once gained general acceptance; it was at least a natural explanation. To the women it sounded very reasonable; they wondered why they hadn’t thought of it themselves; for they had all seen how crazy the cattle acted that night.... Hans Olsa and Tönseten pondered deeply over the problem for a while; they said nothing at first; this explanation had at least dispersed the feeling of weirdness that had gripped the colony; but the longer they thought, the more they realized that scant consolation lay in the theory that the Indians had enticed the cattle away; for where could they find the Indians, or how could they recover the cattle after they had been found? If they had stolen them, they meant to keep them—and keep them they could.

Tönseten marched straight up to Per Hansa; he spoke rapidly, in a voice of great determination:

“If that’s the case, by God! you’ve got to go and get the cows the first thing in the morning—you who are so friendly with the Indians.... We must have our cows right away!”

“Yes, good Heavens!” Kjersti put it. “How can we get along if that drop of milk is taken away from us?... You ought to go this very minute!”

Per Hansa sat gazing steadily off into the distance; but he said never a word. At Kjersti’s remark, however, it seemed as if something had suddenly stung him; he bounded up from the ground like a rubber ball.

“That’s just the job for you and Sam!... Come on, wife, let’s go home and get to bed.”

With these words he stalked away; everyone could see that now Per Hansa was thoroughly angry.

X

Rest was a long time in coming to them at Per Hansa’s that night; a strange uneasiness had entered there and would not leave the house.

Store-Hans had not accompanied them to the hill; his brother found him sitting outside when he came home, and told him what Sam had said; he added it as his own opinion that undoubtedly the Indians had been there and stolen all the cows!... Ole had then left his brother and gone in to bed; the father and mother were inside already, getting ready for the night; but time went on and the other boy did not come.... After a while the mother had gone out to look for him; she had called several times and had walked around the house; finally she had received a gruff answer from the gable of the roof. There sat the boy, staring out into the darkness. He refused to come down until she spoke to him harshly, saying that she would call his father if he did not mind her at once.... Then he slid down quickly and silently, ran into the house, slipped off his clothes, and flung himself into bed.

Quiet gradually settled on the room; the father and mother had at last retired. As they were on the point of falling to sleep, a violent sob came from the boys’ bed; silence immediately followed—breathless silence; then came another sob, more violent than the first—a strangled gasp of anguish.... The mother called across the room, asking what was the matter—was Store-Hans sick? At that he broke down in earnest, with long heaves and gasps, with sobs so violent that they threatened to choke him. Beret spoke to him gently and soothingly; little by little the storm over there in the dark abated, lulled away, and finally seemed to die out altogether ... except for a flutter or two.... Suddenly there arose a hoarse sound like that of bellows inhaling the air, which ended in a tear-choked gasp: “Rosie!... _Ro-o-sie_!”

“Stay where you are, Beret,” said Per Hansa. “I’ll get up and tend to the little fellow!” He pulled on his trousers, and went over in the dark to the boys’ bed; his voice was so low that it could hardly be heard.

... “Come, Hansy-boy, I’ll tell you a secret!”

He put his arm around the youngster, lifted him out of bed, took a coat from the wall and wrapped it around him, then carried him outside. Over by the woodpile, which they had hauled home together from the Sioux River, he sat down with the boy in his lap.... They began to talk. At first only the father did the speaking; but after a while, between sobs, Store-Hans began to join in. The wind, driving warm raindrops full in their faces, seemed to ask if they had gone crazy, sitting out here at this hour of the night; but they paid not the slightest attention....

Store-Hans was finding consolation in his father’s wise and kindly chat.

... “It’s a burning shame,” Per Hansa was saying, “that we haven’t got two ponies! Then you could go with me to-morrow when I ride out to fetch those pesky cows!”

—Oh!... Did he know where they were, then?—slipped out between two sobs.

“Of course I do!”

Store-Hans snuggled deeper into his father’s lap at this assurance, feeling an infinite, blissful safety there.

—Was it the Indians who had taken them?

“Certainly not! Those were honest Indians.... You could see that for yourself.”

—But where were the cows, then?

“Oh, they’ve just strayed off so far that they can’t find their way home again.... But don’t worry, boy. To-morrow morning I’m going to ride out and get them, never fear!”

A long silence followed this promise; Store-Hans felt a blissful happiness settling upon him; the sobs gradually ceased.

“The Indians don’t scalp cows, do they?”

“No, indeed!... They aren’t such barbarians!”

“They are good people, aren’t they, Dad?”

“Yes, just ordinary folks.”

“Cows wouldn’t be anything for Indian braves to fight for, would they?”

“I should say not!... And much less for _chiefs_!”

It was growing very late; the raindrops were still falling steadily; the father said that they ought to be getting back to bed. But Store-Hans seemed well contented where he was.

“Are you going to start early to-morrow?”

“I suppose so.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“That depends on how far I have to go.”

“There won’t be any danger if the Indians come back while you are away.... I can talk to them, you know!”

“Right you are, son!... Nothing to worry about as long as I have you here at home!”

Then Per Hansa got up and carried the boy back to bed.

Store-Hans fell asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. But some time later in the night he suddenly rose to his knees.

“Here I come, Rosie!” he cried out, clearly—then sank back in a heap on the pillow, and slept on.

XI

At the first faint streaks of day Per Hansa slipped out of bed, made a fire, and put on the coffeepot. His wife, he noticed, was already awake. He told her to stay in bed; to this she made no reply in words, but she got up immediately, dressed herself, and began to prepare him a meal. A small lamp burned in the room; the day was yet too young to give much light.

Per Hansa sat down at the table and began to eat; the coffee wasn’t quite ready; his wife stood over by the stove, waiting for it to boil. An air of fixed determination hung about her; although she had not spoken, he felt it just the same.

All night long Beret had been lying there with her eyes wide open, staring up at a picture that would not go away; a picture of a nameless, blue-green solitude, flat, endless, still, with nothing to hide behind.... Some cows were grazing on it.... Yes, animals of flesh and blood were there ... and in the next moment they were not there!...

The picture had been full of unearthly, awful suggestions. She had lain awake in terror, lost in her own imaginings, wrestling with fearsome thoughts that only increased the dread in her soul.... And now he was leaving her—now he would probably stay away for a long time and she would have no knowledge of where he was faring.... It must have been the Indians who had taken the cows. Could it have been anything else—could it have been?... She knew too well how hasty and fearless her husband was, plunging headlong into whatever lay before him!... The thought made her tremble.

... It seemed plain to her now that human life could not endure in this country. She had lived here for six weeks and more without seeing another civilized face than those of their own company. Not a settled habitation of man lay nearer than several days’ journey; if any visitor came, it was a savage, a wild man, whom one must fear!... To get what supplies they needed they must journey four whole days, and make preparations as if for a voyage to Lofoten!... What would happen if something sudden should befall them ... attack, or sickness, or fire ... yes, _what would they do_?

... Ah no, this wasn’t a place for human beings to dwell in.... And then, what of the children? Suppose they were to grow up here, would they not come to be exactly like the red children of the wilderness—or perhaps something worse?... It was uncivilized; they would not learn the ways of man; no civilization would ever come.... Never, never, would it be otherwise!

... Perhaps, then, it was an act of Providence that the cattle had been lost.... It ought to show them how things stood out here—that man could not exist in this savage, desolate wilderness; they ought to be able to see that much, at any rate.... Even he might see it, too!...

She could not tell whether she had slept at all that night; it did not seem so; she had heard her husband’s first move when he began to stir. She remembered, too, the last thought she had been struggling with in bed; she shuddered at it, now that there was a light in the house. There in the darkness she had felt that it would be a blessing if the cows never turned up.... How could she ever have thought it? That, too, was only a part of the hideous evil out here!...

“You aren’t going alone?” she asked, from over by the stove.

He had not mentioned going yet; he gave her a quick look.

“We’ll see.”

“Will you be gone long?”

“You’d better not look for me till you see me.... I may be gone overnight.”

She asked no more for a time; in a few moments she came and poured out his coffee.

“Which way are you going?”

“I don’t exactly know yet.... Eastward, I suppose.”

“You are doing a wrong thing, and I must tell you so!” she said, decisively, putting the coffeepot back on the stove.... “A wrong thing!” she repeated with even more emphasis.

The vehemence of her tone took hold of him.

“Perhaps it is,” he answered, rather meekly.... “But we must try to get the cows back somehow, just the same.”

“No more than the others!” she exclaimed, her agitation suddenly flaring up.... “If they can do without them, we can too!”

“But look here, Beret,” he reasoned, trying to calm her, “you know that it’s necessary for some one to go and look for the cattle. Hans Olsa hasn’t time to do it, because of the haying; and as for the others, I haven’t much faith in them.... There aren’t many to choose from here, you know.”

“Does it seem right to you, then,” she burst out, wildly, “that I should be left alone here with the children while you are chasing around in the wilderness?... You may be gone for a day or a week—how can I know?... Why can’t Sam or Henry go? They have no one sitting at home waiting for them!” She did not look up from the floor while she was speaking; deep passion burned in her words.

... Now she has fallen into one of her unreasonable moods, thought Per Hansa; but perhaps she couldn’t help it, poor thing!... “It’s this way, Beret, you see: I don’t believe it would be any use for those fellows to go.”

“Then Tönseten will have to do it!” ... Now she was going to cry—he heard it in her voice.

“Oh, God Almighty!... then the cows would surely come home!” he groaned, not far from tears himself.

She did not answer; her rigid form remained standing over by the window, staring out into the drab, dismal dawn.

Per Hansa said no more, either; he gulped down his coffee hurriedly, found his hat and put it on; then he went to the door, paused an instant, opened it quietly, and stepped outside. There he stood still for a moment.... No, no—he couldn’t leave Beret this way!... But what had struck her? It was beyond his comprehension! She had more common sense than any other person he knew; yet here she was, talking more unreasonably than a cross child. What strange influence had come over her since they had arrived out here?... He oughtn’t to leave her this way—but what could he do?... In a deep quandary, he walked over to the woodpile, saddled and bridled the pony, which was tethered close by ... then paused again.

XII

Before he could make up his mind to jump into the saddle he heard footfalls behind him, and turned toward the house. It had flashed through his mind: here she is coming now; everything will be all right and I can be off at once.... I need to hurry!

But in the same flash he had realized that it wasn’t from the direction of the door that the sound had come.... He turned to find Hans Olsa rounding the corner of the house. Did Hans Olsa think of going? Well, that was another matter; that man was equal to any task. But who would drive the mowing machine while he was gone? And it looked like fine weather for making hay—it seemed to be clearing.... All these thoughts passed through Per Hansa’s head as he watched his neighbour draw near; he wished that Hans Olsa hadn’t come just now ... no, not just now! His usual frankness was lacking in his greeting:

“You seem to be out early, Hans Olsa.”

“And so are you, I see. I sort of expected it; I wanted to talk to you before you went.... You’re going, aren’t you?”

Per Hansa glanced aside and did not answer immediately; at last he said, after a long pause: “Some one will have to go, I suppose.... It seems best for you to keep on with the haying, so that we can get the job done.... I am no hand at machinery, you know.”

“I know that you can ride faster than I can—that is the better reason.... Guess what Sörrina told me last night?”

Per Hansa made no attempt at it; he wasn’t in a mood to solve riddles just now. His eyes were on his neighbour, but his thoughts were in the house.... She must have heard their voices by this time.... Would she come out?

... “Well,” said Hans Olsa, raising his eyebrows significantly, “yesterday morning Sörrina suspected that cow of ours of wanting male company!”

Per Hansa came back to reality with a violent jolt.

“What’s that you say, Hans Olsa?”

“Those were her very words—‘male company’!... Do you suppose that old cow of mine could have taken it into her head to ramble all the way back to Fillmore County, just for _that_—and the others followed her?... The idea occurred to me, anyway; and I thought it best to tell you at once, before you got away.”

“Ha-ha!... Ha-ha!... She had to have a man, that old dame of yours—and led the others with her into temptation!”

... “Well, who knows?”

“Good enough!” ... Per Hansa leaned forward and untied the horse; he sprang quickly into the saddle.... “I was thinking of the Trönders all last night; now I’m going over and make them a visit. There’s no telling when you’ll see me back. Perhaps you’ll keep an eye on things for me here, while I am gone?” ... He paused, glanced toward the house, and added in a low voice: “Be sure and send Sörrina over here to-night.... And you keep on with the haying as hard as you can; it looks to me as if it were going to clear up soon!”

He headed the pony past the house and around it to the side where the door lay; there he drew up, coughed loudly, listened a moment—then rode away.

... In the window looking toward the east a woman’s face, tear-stained and swollen with weeping, watched his figure grow less and less in the dim grey light of the breaking day, until at last it had disappeared altogether.... To her it seemed as though he were sinking deeper and deeper into an unknown, lifeless sea; the sombre greyness rose and covered him.

* * * * *

Soon the word was passed around that Per Hansa had set out eastward to the Sioux River, to look for the cattle; everyone was willing to let the matter rest at that. His pony was fleet-footed; there was no need for any of the others to take up the search; they had better wait to see what luck he had.... Not that Tönseten had any faith or hope in the trip. He had kept turning the matter over in his mind all night; he had got from Kjersti a detailed account of how the cattle had behaved when the Indians came, and when he had risen that morning he had been fully convinced that Sam’s solution of the riddle was the right and only one. To Tönseten’s mind, all that remained of the problem was how to get hold of the beasts again without causing bloodshed and war—how to wrest them from the possession of the redskins before they had gobbled them all up.... When he heard of Per Hansa’s intended visit to the Trönders, he spluttered with anger; he was disgusted, too, with Hans Olsa because he had not dissuaded him from such a brainless move.... But his anger at Per Hansa simply knew no bounds. So—he was not the courageous fellow, then, that he posed as being! Didn’t he know that the responsibility for getting the cattle back rested solely on him? For he had been the one who was so friendly with that robber brood. He hadn’t chased them back where they had come from, as he should have done. Oh no, he had taken gifts from them instead—and been gloriously fooled into the bargain! And why did he waste his time now, in revelling with the Trönders on the Sioux River? The man had better be made to understand that they needed their cows at once!... Tönseten went about breathing fire and brimstone, and didn’t care who heard him.

The gloom of this loss lay heavy upon the others as well; they went about their work as usual, but their eyes strayed elsewhere.

Evening came, but neither Per Hansa nor the cattle. Folks did not care to go to bed; they sat about staring and waiting. All of Hans Olsa’s family went over to Beret’s; Tönseten and Kjersti, having first stopped at Hans Olsa’s and found them out, went there, too. The Solum boys could see no reason for moping around their hut alone; they soon joined the others.... But none of them found cheer in this place, either. Beret seemed distant and strangely calm, as if the whole affair didn’t in the least concern her. They wondered at her manner, it was no unnatural.

When they were leaving, however, she said, quietly, as if musing to herself:

“Somehow, I can’t figure this out.... Night has come now; Per Hansa is wandering off there alone in this endless wilderness. And four grown men are sitting here talking the time away.... But aren’t the cattle just as much theirs as his?... No, I can’t seem to figure it out at all....”

Over in the bed little And-Ongen began to cry for her father; the mother went and sat down beside her; she kept her eyes on the floor. Her words still lingered in the air; not a voice cared to answer. There seemed to be nothing to say, and the silence only made the gloom deeper....

When the others had gone and the children were asleep, Beret rose and hung some heavy clothes up over the windows—the thickest clothes she could find—to shut out the night—She felt that she could never go to bed, with all the eyes out there staring in upon her....

... Last of all, she pulled the big chest in front of the door.

XIII

The following day there was no getting the boys down from the roof; they climbed up immediately after breakfast and sat there hour after hour. The forenoon passed; noon came. Ole jumped down to eat, but Store-Hans remained at his post; the mother let him stay. Coffee time finally went by, yet no one in sight....

Then, all of a sudden, eager shouts rang out from the roof; Store-Hans was screaming in an excited voice that now ... right over there ... dad was coming!... Yes, now he was coming! Ole’s voice joined in.... And he has the rattle with him, too!

“Come on—let’s run and tell the others!” cried Ole.... “Mother first!” shrieked Store-Hans, forgetting that they had both been shouting the news. They jumped down from the roof together, jerked open the door, and announced in one breath that their father was coming; the next instant they were gone. The word was first carried to Hans Olsa, then to Tönseten, last of all to the Solum boys. In each place the same message: “Dad is coming!”—that from Ole.... “And he’s got the cows!”—this from Store-Hans.

Sure enough, here came Per Hansa riding the pony, and driving before him a small herd of cows. As the caravan came in sight from the several huts, each family proceeded to count the animals.... What was the meaning of this? Were they seeing double?... They counted over again with the same result; every person who tried his hand got one cow too many! There should be only four—now there were five. No getting away from it: five there were! They were easy enough to count; they straggled over the prairie one by one, like beads on a string.... Per Hansa on the pony brought up the rear.

As the people stood outside, looking at the approaching train, they instinctively set out for Per Hansa’s. Each had to get his own cow; all were eager to learn where Per Hansa had been these last two days, and to find out about that fifth cow!

The last question had already been answered in part; before the train had arrived they had made out that the fifth animal wasn’t a cow at all! No cow, indeed—but a yearling bull!... Per Hansa himself was barely recognizable; his face was grimy and streaked with sweat, which had been running down it in streams, and still ran as freely as ever. But what they first noticed about the man was that he carried something strapped to his chest—some sort of a box, it looked like.... No—wonder of wonders!—it was a bird cage, made of thin slats; and inside lay a rooster and two hens!

Beret had stepped outside the house at last; she came forward without paying any attention to the others; they felt embarrassed now, and did not dare to approach her; some of them even shrank back as she came near.

... “Per, what have you brought?” she asked in a low, tender voice, as if she were shy of him.

Per Hansa was unfastening the cage; he seemed wearied to the point of stupor.

“Oh, well,” he said with an effort, “since I had to go so far, I thought I might as well do something worth while.” ... He handed her the cage.... “Here are your chickens, Beret.... I don’t know whether there’s any life left in them yet, or not.”

Beret took the cage, turned slowly away, and walked toward the house. The others all thronged about him, eager to hear what adventures he had met with.

Tönseten pushed in ahead:

“I say, Per Hansa, who is that fellow you brought with the rest of the cattle?”

The shadow of a grin brightened the grimy face:

“That fellow?... Oh, just a Trönder.”

“Oh-ho!... then he must be a good one! Trönders, they say.... But where did you pick him up?”

Per Hansa pretended not to hear; he dismounted and threw the bridle to Store-Hans.... “Water him now, and feed him well!... Where did I pick that fellow up? Oh, I beguiled a kind Trönder woman into letting me take him for a year. I promised her ten dollars into the bargain; that makes exactly two dollars and a half for your share, Syvert. But that’ll be cheaper for you in the long run, you see, than to chase up and down the whole of Dakota Territory looking for your cow!”

Sörine and Kjersti were both very outspoken in their gratitude to Per Hansa; they plainly meant every word that they said. But it seemed to Per Hansa that the deepest word of wisdom on this occasion was offered by Kjersti. She stood listening patiently until the story of his long ride had come to an end; then she remarked, as if quietly musing:

“When lust can be so strong in a dumb brute, what mustn’t it be in a human being!... I shall never forget this trick you have turned, Per Hansa!”

... At that they all laughed heartily.

IV. What the Waving Grass Revealed

I

That summer Per Hansa was transported, was carried farther and ever farther away on the wings of a wondrous fairy tale—a romance in which he was both prince and king, the sole possessor of countless treasures. In this, as in all other fairy tales, the story grew ever more fascinating and dear to the heart, the farther it advanced. Per Hansa drank it in; he was like the child who constantly cries: “More—more!”

These days he was never at rest, except when fatigue had overcome him and sleep had taken him away from toil and care. But this was seldom, however; he found his tasks too interesting to be a burden; nothing tired him, out here. Ever more beautiful grew the tale; ever more dazzlingly shone the sunlight over the fairy castle.

How could he steal the time to rest, these days? Was he not owner of a hundred and sixty acres of the best land in the world? Wasn’t his title to it becoming more firmly established with every day that passed and every new-broken furrow that turned?... He gazed at his estate and laughed happily, as if at some pleasant and amusing spectacle.... Such soil! Only to sink the plow into it, to turn over the sod—and there was a field ready for seeding.... And this was not just ordinary soil, fit for barley, and oats, and potatoes, and hay, and that sort of thing; indeed, it had been meant for much finer and daintier uses; it was the soil for wheat, the king of all grains! Such soil had been especially created by the good Lord to bear this noble seed; and here was Per Hansa, walking around on a hundred and sixty acres of it, all his very own!

A beautiful, alluring thought had begun to beckon him. His first quarter-section was rightly only tillage land; the quarter next to it to the east would be about what he needed for hay and pasture for the cattle; yes, he could even use the one to the west of it, too, if his plans worked out; but he wanted the one to the east first, for it had open water on the creek. These two quarter-sections would make an estate more magnificent than that of many a king of old.... He never mentioned this dream to anyone; he could see no way at present of getting hold of another quarter; but his boys were growing bigger day by day; in time they would be able to earn the wherewithal.... No hurry yet ... this was just the beginning!

And there were many other tantalizing, delectable thoughts, of things that would have to come first, before the fine estate was won. The live stock, for instance; in the course of time he would have great numbers—horses and pigs and cattle, chickens and ducks and geese—animals both big and small, of every kind. There would be quacking and grunting, mooing and neighing, from every nook and corner of the farm.... The place would need plenty of life, for his Beret to mother!

But dearest to him of all, and most delectable, was the thought of the royal mansion which he had already erected in his mind. There would be houses for both chickens and pigs, roomy stables, a magnificent storehouse and barn ... and then the splendid palace itself! The royal mansion would shine in the sun—it would stand out far and wide! The palace itself would be white, with green cornices; but the big barn would be as red as blood, with cornices of driven snow. Wouldn’t it be beautiful—wasn’t it going to be great fun!... And he and his boys would build it all!

And stranger things than this transpired in fancy—just as in the fairy tale: they seemed to lie enchanted under the most prosaic and deceptive semblances, invisible to the eye of man; but then he came and touched them, pouring on a few drops from the magic horn; the charm was instantly broken, and behold, treasures sprang forth, shining in all their newborn freshness and beauty!... Just now, for instance, he beheld a vision so fair that his face shone with a glowing light that transfigured his coarse features; he had suddenly discovered a new object outside the palace of his dreams.... Yes, sir—there it was! Nothing less than a snow-white picket fence around a big, big garden! And many trees grew there, both within and without; some bore apples, others various kinds of fruit: and some ... _some had cones_ ... yes, trees with _pine cones_ on them!... Per Hansa’s eyes swam and shone; a sudden moisture dimmed his sight; dear God, there really were pine cones hanging from some of the trees!... He didn’t know where they waited for him, those trees ... but they would come!...

And so Per Hansa could not be still for a moment. A divine restlessness ran in his blood; he strode forward with outstretched arms toward the wonders of the future, already partly realized. He seemed to have the elfin, playful spirit of a boy; at times he was irresistible; he had to caress everything that he came near.... But he never could be still. To remain inactive over the Sabbath would drive him into a fit of ill humour; by noon he had to go outdoors and stir around. If nothing else turned up, he took a long jaunt over the prairies; on these trips he selected many a pretty spot that would be a fine site for a home.... Some day a settler will locate here, he thought; I’ll remember this, and show him where to build!... Wherever he went, no matter how far, he found the same kind of soil.

... Endless it was, and wonderful!...

II

One Sunday evening the boys had come home wild with excitement. They had made a long trip westward on the prairie to some big swamps which lay out there, with tall grass growing from them, and long stretches of open water in between. They told of thousands upon thousands of ducks, so tame that you could almost take them in your hand. Store-Hans vowed that never in his life had he seen anything like it. He described the ducks, how many and how tame they were, until the words stuck in his throat, and his whole body trembled; his brother raged on even worse.

From then on the boys were always talking about the ducks. Was there no way to get them?... But they had no shotgun, the father said, and Old Maria had not been built for that purpose; as it was, they had only a small supply of “feed” for her, which must be kept in case ... well, no one could tell. Just what it was that “no one could tell,” he didn’t say; but they understood this much that no ducks would ever be shot with that gun. So the ducks continued to live there, swimming leisurely about in countless numbers, and flying from one pond to the next whenever the boys came too close. And not even a good-sized pebble to be found ... plague take it all!

Ever since the boys had first discovered the ducks they had made a practice of going out to look at them every Sunday. Each time the birds seemed to have multiplied in numbers. Soon the boys never pretended to speak of anything else between themselves; they thought only of the ducks, and of how to get hold of them.... Their father had not yet found time to go with them and behold this wonder.

Then one Sunday afternoon, in the early part of August, Per Hansa went for a stroll westward with Store-Hans. Ole was told to stay at home; it would never do to let mother sit there alone, the father said, when she had three grown men in the family; Ole, the older of the two boys, would have to take his turn first. The boy raised such a commotion over this disappointment that his mother said they had better take him along. The father was firm, however; next Sunday he himself would stay at home, and then Ole could go; but to-day the boy must do as he had been told.

So it fell to Per Hansa and Store-Hans to make the trip alone. Plenty of ducks there were, no doubt about that. When he first saw the place Per Hansa was reminded of the great bird cliffs in Finmarken. Store-Hans pointed at the birds, whispering hoarsely to his father, until he choked, and tears came in his eyes.

—Wasn’t there any possible way to get a few of ’em?

—Well—the father seemed quite serious—one might try salt on their tails.

—Salt on their tails? Was that any good?

—Oh yes—they often did it in the olden days.

But then the father had to laugh, and that spoiled it all. As he stood there gazing longingly at the birds no boy could have been more thrilled by the wonderful spectacle. By George! there would _have_ to be some way out of this fix; he’d have to _make_ a way when he got time to cast about!... Maybe the fairy tale had nothing to say about the king’s having a shotgun; but he ate plenty of ducks, just the same!... What had been done once could be done again!

Store-Hans didn’t exactly approve of his father’s jocular air; this was no fooling matter. If he only wanted to, he could easily rig up some sort of a contrivance for catching them; he could work miracles when he tried ... Well then, why didn’t he begin to get busy. He certainly saw how thick they were!...

But Store-Hans had to possess his soul in patience awhile longer; no birds were captured on their first trip to the swamps.

It was on the way home from this trip that Per Hansa made his startling discovery. Store-Hans had taken a short cut home; he had to hurry back and tell his brother what they had seen. But the father never liked to follow an old path while there was still unexplored land left around him; accordingly, he made a long détour to the westward. He had often wondered how far west his land extended, but had never taken the time to pace it off. Since he was headed in that direction now, he might as well pace down the western border line of his and his neighbours’ new kingdom.

He had a pretty good idea of the location of Tönseten’s south line, as well as of the corners on it where his east and west lines began; the southeast corner, in fact, was near Tönseten’s house. He cut across country until he judged himself to be about on this south line, and walked east for some distance; then he decided that it would be too far to go all the way in, just to pick up the corner; so he turned west again. He would have to be satisfied with an approximate position of Tönseten’s southwest corner to-day.... About _here_, it ought to be, he thought; he stopped, gazed around, and took his bearings for the walk north. He had been following this course for perhaps a hundred paces when the toe of his boot suddenly struck against a small stake—a little fellow who stood hiding there, nodding in drowsy lonesomeness, just at the edge of a thick tuft of grass. Per Hansa looked down, saw the stake, and brought up with a violent start.... Here was Tönseten’s southwest corner! What, had Syvert been so cautious as to put down stakes here, too? A very careful man was Syvert, indeed!

Per Hansa bent down closer to examine the stake. Yes, he was right—it was a corner stake; there stood the description, indicating both section and quarter. But the name below ... _the name_ ... good God! what was this? He dropped to his knees and peered at it until the letters danced before his eyes; he wondered if he were dreaming. The name on the stake wasn’t _S. H. Tönseten_ at all, as it should have been; it was just _O’Hara_ ... nothing else but _O’Hara_! The letters had been carved on the stake with a knife, and the arrow pointed east, to Tönseten’s quarter!... When Per Hansa finally rose, he smoothed the grass carefully over with his hand, where his knees had bent it to the ground; the action was quite involuntary.

... “Well!” he exclaimed, and walked hastily away. But presently he stopped, turned around, and went back to the stake, to read the name once more. In order to be sure that his eyes hadn’t deceived him, he spelled it out letter by letter, tracing the carving with his forefinger.... No doubt about it—the thing was true!

And now he laid his course to the northward, walking slowly. The radiant, happy look had vanished from his face; it looked old and worn. All at once, as if struck by a new thought, he quickened his pace. He hurried on until he had reached the vicinity of Hans Olsa’s south line, dividing his land from Tönseten’s; here he began to search the ground, first to the eastward, then to the westward, working slowly forward into the next quarter-section.

At last he found it—another stake, Hans Olsa’s southwest corner!... He looked carefully around; no one was in sight. Then he fell on his knees and examined the stake; he didn’t bother to glance at the description this time; but the name—the name! Tears suddenly came to his eyes as he stooped over; for an instant he found it hard to see.... But there it was, exactly as he had feared; this stake had _Joe Gill_ carved on it ... _Joe Gill_, when it should have been _H. P. Olsen_!... He got up at last; his round, jovial face now looked drawn and sinister.

Moving mechanically, he strode toward the north until he had reached the line between Hans Olsa’s quarter and his own; there he repeated his tactics of a while before, zigzagging back and forth over a broad space; but though he kept tacking around for a long time, he was unable to locate any stake. That a stake was there, however, he felt very certain; it was unthinkable that this misfortune should have befallen both Tönseten and Hans Olsa, and not have run him down at the same time.... He searched until he had to give it up in despair; then he went north to the line between himself and Henry Solum, and fell to searching in this locality; but no, he couldn’t find any stake here, either. It was now growing so late that he had to quit and go home.... A short while before, he had been as happy and light-hearted as a child; he came home full of a weariness greater than he had ever known....

III

... By God! the trolls must be after him! It was only natural that he should meet them somewhere out here; but to think of their coming in just this dirty fashion!... Ah, well, trolls were trolls, no matter how they came!...

Per Hansa didn’t know what to do with himself that evening; he felt that the only thing that would relieve him just now would be to hitch the oxen to the plow and break a stretch of new land. He looked longingly at the oxen, and at the plow over yonder.... No, it was the Sabbath—and evening already.

His discovery had been so utterly disheartening that he could not have mentioned it to anyone for the price of his soul. He would have liked to tell his wife about it, and hear her opinion; but that was out of the question; she was disturbed enough already.... But Per Hansa had to do something, or he would go mad; he walked across the yard and sat down on the woodpile; there he remained a long while, staring listlessly at the ground.

... These trolls would not be easy to cope with—not if he knew them!... But why hadn’t he been able to discover their tracks on his own quarter? That was the strangest thing of all!

The boys were only waiting for a chance to talk with their father, now he had been west to the swamps and had seen how thick the birds were there. They came up and spoke to him, but got no response; first one of them tried, and then the other; soon they both were talking at him together; a little later their mother came out and asked him something, but he paid no attention. He sat there in a silence like a stone wall....