Chapter IX: Introduction: I (7)

“No, this won’t do,” said Per Hansa, firmly. “We mustn’t go without a plan. How are we going to tackle the business when we get there?”

“We’ve got to drive them away from here!” cried Tönseten, excitedly.

“Fine!... But the question is: How are we going about it?”

“We’ve got to convince them that we are here with the full sanction of law and justice,” said Hans Olsa, solemnly.

“You’re damned right we must!” flashed Per Hansa.... “Have you got your paper, Syvert?”

—No, Tönseten had thought of bringing the deed with him, but he feared it would be too risky.... “They might take it away from me, and then I’d be in a devil of a hole!” Tönseten’s face was so agitated that it was a pity to look at.

But Per Hansa now took charge in a determined manner.... “Go in and get that deed immediately, Syvert, so that we can get going!... Don’t worry—we’ll see to it that no one molests you!”

And so they started. On the way over, Per Hansa explained the tactics they were to follow; Henry Solum and Tönseten should be the spokesmen, Sam the interpreter; Per Hansa took pains to impress upon Sam how important it was that he translate correctly and rapidly, so that he and Hans Olsa could keep abreast of proceedings.... “I think it will be best for you, Henry, to cut loose; then you, Syvert, can put in your oar when you think it’s needed. But don’t say much; and for Heaven’s sake, be careful not to talk too fast; you know how quickly you get short-winded. Remember we have the whole day ahead of us!”

Tönseten was highly displeased with this plan of Per Hansa’s, but he lacked the strength to protest; matters had reached such a bad pass already that they could hardly get worse....

It was plainly evident that the strangers had not overslept themselves that morning; although the hour was still very early—full daylight had barely come—all hands were busily at work when the five settlers reached the camp. Two of the wagons had already been unloaded; a few of the men were beginning to open up the others, while the rest of the crew were putting up a large tent.

Per Hansa and Henry Solum walked ahead; then came Hans Olsa and Sam; Tönseten, who at first had trotted along with the van, had now quietly dropped back to the rear.

“Ah-ha!” observed Per Hansa to his companions. “They’re planning to settle here, it seems!... Now, first you must ask to see their papers; and then the stakes—insist on the _stakes_! Talk pleasantly to begin with ... but it won’t do any harm to have a little sport with them, you know. If they get ugly, just tease them on awhile.”

Their friendly greetings were returned in a churlish fashion; the strangers didn’t seem anxious for company; each man went about his task without paying the slightest attention to the visitors.

—What were they doing here? Henry demanded.—This quarter had been taken up long ago.

—Indeed? Two of the men stopped their work and entered the conversation.

—Yes, the man who owned the land was standing right there—Henry pointed to Hans Olsa.—That fellow; he had his papers along, too; and now they must show their papers! If the land office had granted the same quarter-section to two different men, a bad mistake had been made, but it could easily be cleared up.

—Well, so they wanted to see the papers—was that the idea? Had they brought their _spectacles_? A roar of laughter from the others greeted this sally; but the man who had spoken wasn’t exactly laughing—he held his head tilted on one side, his whole face screwed into an ugly leer.... Sam translated as accurately as he could.

—Yes, Henry continued in a firmer and more imperative tone, they had come to see both their papers and their stakes! Furthermore, there was a court in Sioux Falls to settle such matters. They had been living here all summer, breaking and planting, and hadn’t the least thought of moving away.... Per Hansa sensed by the tone of Henry’s voice that he was speaking well.

“That’s right, Henry.... Give ’em hell!”

The man who had spoken with such an evil look a moment before, now threw down his sledge hammer and came up to them.

—All right, boys! Since they wouldn’t take his word for it, he’d soon show them in black and white! The papers had been packed away somewhere and couldn’t be found just now. They would have to wait awhile to look at them; but he would show them the stakes! They’d better come right along with him now; he was in a devil of a hurry; he had both plowing and building to do before the snow flew.

The stranger began to walk rapidly westward; Per Hansa was right at his heels; as they hurried on, he breathed a prayer that the grass might have sprung up freshly where he had done that little piece of work!...

The man seemed very certain about his direction. As they approached Hans Olsa’s southwest corner, he slackened his pace and began pushing the grass aside with his foot; Per Hansa had in the meanwhile discovered with his eyes the exact spot where the stake had stood. He all but laughed aloud; indeed, the rain and the sun of the good Lord had done their work well; not a blade of grass seemed displaced, not a broken stalk could be seen!... Besides, the man was mistaken about the location of the spot; he had gone too far to the north and west before he got down on his knees to scan the ground. He did a thorough job, however; walked a few steps, knelt and examined the ground round about; rose, went forward a little distance, got down on his knees again; but all the while he was moving farther and farther away from the right spot.... Per Hansa could hardly restrain himself; quiet chuckles were beginning to rise in his throat; but he realized the danger in time, and coughed them away.

The man searched and searched, back and forth, around and around; at first he went at it hastily, as if finding the stake were the easiest thing in the world; after a while he looked more slowly and cautiously.... He was swearing like a trooper now; Per Hansa knew enough English to understand most of it; he didn’t wonder that the fellow felt moved to say a little something, under the circumstances....

At last the searcher got up and called loudly to the others.... A man came over from the camp—a small man with reddish hair and a face as freckled as a moor dotted with heather. They began to talk together in low tones, from time to time casting angry glances at Hans Olsa; they searched the whole region again, but found no trace of what they were looking for.

Hans Olsa made strenuous efforts to take in what was happening; his big, rough-hewn face, with the rugged features that ordinarily were the picture of trust and honesty, had become strange to behold. He gazed at these two men, hurrying here and there, trying to prove that he was a scoundrel; he heard what Sam managed to translate of their complimentary remarks about him; and it all seemed to awaken a new and ominous force behind that impassive countenance; his big childlike eyes blazed with astonishment, occasionally emitting sharp flashes; he trembled slightly all over, though he was not aware of it.

Suddenly the two men abandoned the search, exchanged a few heated remarks, turned away, and went back to the camp without saying another word.... The five settlers followed.

“If they have no better luck with the papers,” said Per Hansa, “things don’t look very bright for them!”

When the five reached the camp all ten of the strangers stood in a group, talking angrily together. The women were nowhere in sight; as the Nordlanders came up a burly, red-faced man stepped out from the group, evidently their leader.... “God be with you, Henry.... Stand right up to him and talk him down!” Per Hansa whispered to the Solum boy.... It was clearly evident from the man’s face that a storm was brewing; the fact that the big Irishman carried a sledge hammer in his hand also attracted Per Hansa’s attention.

“Where are the men who claim to have taken up this land?” he snapped at them.

—Right there, those two!—Henry pointed to Tönseten and Hans Olsa.—That one—Tönseten—owned the quarter to the south; this one—Hans Olsa—the one they now stood on.

The Irishman singled out Hans Olsa and looked him up and down.

—What was the matter with that fellow—was he deaf and dumb? He couldn’t seem to get his mouth open! The man fingered his sledge hammer, and glared around at Henry as if he would swallow him up.

—Oh no, Hans Olsa had his faculties, all right! He just couldn’t talk English.

Sam was translating all this as best he could.

—Well, he could tell this dirty son-of-a-——that he was a thief and a blackguard who had destroyed another man’s landmarks!

Sam translated rapidly, trembling with fear.

The Irishman came closer.

—If the whole damned gang of sneaking swine didn’t get off their land right away, he’d give them something to start with!—Perhaps they’d understand that language better!—The man swung his sledge hammer.

“Look out, now!” shouted Per Hansa. “Here the trouble starts!” ...

And so it did, only much faster than he or any of the others had anticipated. When Hans Olsa saw the Irishman loom up before him in that threatening attitude, he stared at him blankly, and stood for a moment as if rooted to the ground. Then, all of a sudden, the upper part of his body seemed to stretch; he stepped aside to evade the onslaught ... his left fist shot out and struck the man below the ear. There was a crashing sound; with a loud groan the man sank in a heap and lay perfectly still.

“Look out there, Henry!” cried Per Hansa.... “See that you get your man, and I’ll get mine!... Wait a minute!”

The crowd had drawn back in front of one of the empty wagons; they stood as if dazed. Hans Olsa stared at them wildly, took a step forward, and stumbled over the heap on the ground. Regaining his balance, he stopped, bent over, and plunged both hands into the inert heap of flesh; the next instant he lifted it high in the air and flung it bodily over the heads of the crowd, where it crashed into the wagon standing behind. The wagon shook violently at the impact.... At the same moment the group scattered and took to their heels southward across the prairie. From one of the wagons, still covered by its canvas, sounded a scream of terror; four women came tumbling out and followed after the men.

Hans Olsa stood motionless, quivering in every muscle; he seemed like a man half stunned.

Per Hansa jumped to his side and slapped him on the shoulder:

“Goodness! Hans Olsa, that was beautiful! I don’t believe there’s another man in the whole country who could do such a thing!... Now I think we can safely go home; those folks aren’t likely to start any more arguments about land!”

Hans Olsa was slowly regaining his natural poise; he stroked his face and sighed deeply, like one recovering from an attack of delirium.

“I’m afraid I handled him pretty roughly; you’d better go and look at him, Per Hansa.”

Per Hansa laughed confidently.... “No, leave him alone; just do as I say, now! We’re going straight home, the whole lot of us.... Later in the day I’ll take a little trip of my own out westward!”

They did as he bade them—though Tönseten could not be found anywhere; he had vanished from the scene long before. In the latter part of the afternoon Per Hansa returned to the camp of the Irish, to find out what they were doing and how they were getting along; he took Store-Hans with him as interpreter.... He found the whole camp moved to one of the two quarter-sections lying west of Tönseten’s and Hans Olsa’s land.

Per Hansa made frequent visits to them during the next few days; before the third day was over, he had sold them more than ten dollars’ worth of potatoes; he felt that he had struck up a profitable business.

* * * * *

The Irish finally settled on these two quarters west of them. They returned east to Iowa just before the snow fell in the fall; but early the following spring they came back with a large company, and started their permanent settlement.

XI

On the morning when the men had gone out to parley with the Irish, Kjersti was left all alone in the house. She felt gloomy and depressed; there had been little or no sleep for either of them during the night; Syvert had tossed to and fro in bed, telling and retelling the same unhappy story—of the terrible folks who had come, of what they proposed to do, and of the dreary future that awaited him and Hans Olsa, who would now be forced to start everything anew.... Perhaps they had better just move east again, and be done with it! He had lain twisting and turning as he bemoaned their fate, his mood steadily growing gloomier and gloomier.... This had kept up so long that it had driven her nearly distracted; at last she had grown tired of his everlasting whimpering and had told him so in plain words. As yet, she pointed out, no one in the settlement had lost either life or limb; their papers were all correct, law and justice ruled the land, and five strong men were here on hand to look after things ... _four_, at any rate! And at the worst, these were white people, thank the Lord!...

All this and more she had said to Syvert; every word of it had been well meant and fully considered. But he had grown angry and had accused her of not having a particle of common sense; then one word had led to another. When the quarrel had finally worn itself out they had found themselves at opposite ends of the earth, though lying side by side in the same bed.

It was lonesome after the men had left that morning; Kjersti kept the coffeepot on the stove, and laid on a couple of fresh sticks of wood; he would be sure to look in for a drop when he came back!... Then she put on Syvert’s old hat and went over to see Beret; she wanted to find out what Per Hansa had told her when he came home the night before.

She got little information or comfort there, however.... First she recounted most of what Tönseten had let out to her—that people had arrived who claimed to own Hans Olsa’s land, as well as his own; that these people wouldn’t listen to reason, so in all probability they would have to seek the aid of the law.... Hadn’t Per Hansa told her what had happened?

The boys were eating their breakfast; Beret sat over by the stove, dressing the child; she made no answer to Kjersti; her face flushed but she did not look up.

Ole, however, laughingly began to repeat some of the crazy stories his father had told them the night before; Store-Hans remembered more of them, and helped his brother out when his memory failed; the boys were still highly excited, and kept on making such a noise and chatter that Kjersti threw up her hands, begging them for the Lord’s sake to be quiet!...

Beret listened in a rigid, frozen silence; she let the boys say anything they wanted to, as if she lacked the strength to make them stop.... One thought seemed to possess her whole being: he had destroyed the stakes on other people’s land—and now he was going to drive them away!... Good God! could this be possible?...

But at last the boys went so far that she had to interfere; they had begun to laugh together in a coarse, bold way, and use evil words.... How truly it is said, she thought, that the seed which is sown in secret bears fruit openly!... With the child in her arms, she got up decisively, crossed the room, and flashed out at the boys; she was very stern now, and scolded them harshly.

All the while Kjersti had been growing more disturbed; she had to find consolation somewhere, and said, as if trying to bolster herself up:

“This can’t be anything to worry about! Why, we have been given this quarter, and were the first to arrive here!”

“What about Per Hansa’s land?” asked Beret.

“It seems they don’t intend to claim that, according to what Syvert says.... I don’t know why!”

“Probably nothing can be done about it,” said Beret, quietly. “There is no telling who may have been wandering around out here before we came.... Many may have been here.”

This aimless talk only irritated Kjersti.

“I should think they would keep all that straightened out—the people whose business it is to look after such things! If Syvert weren’t such a milksop of a man, he would have gone after the sheriff at once.... Folks are put in prison for such deeds in America!”

Beret was silent for a moment; she bent over the child, while a deep flush slowly covered her face; then she said in a low voice:

“The guilty will receive their punishment in the end!” ... As soon as she had spoken, she got up and left the house abruptly; outside, she put down the child, and stood like a stone image looking westward; there she remained standing until Kjersti came out.

“I see them coming now,” she said, as the other appeared. At that, Kjersti had to hurry off home, to get the breakfast for Syvert.

But Tönseten had returned long before the others; he was in bed when she came in; though the fall day was mild, he had covered himself up with the heavy blanket. At first she couldn’t get a word out of him; she thought he must be ill, especially as he refused the coffee which she poured out for him.... They can’t possibly have done him an injury? she thought. She began plying him with questions, and kept on until he finally admitted that they had come to blows out there on the prairie. His words were thickly interspersed with moans and groans; she began to fear in earnest that they had maltreated him; she felt him all over, and demanded to know where he had been hit.

... “Where did they hit me?... Why talk!” He would say no more on the subject. Then he gave a heavy sigh, adding: “It’s terrible!” ...

It was impossible for him to lie there long, however, without seeking an outlet; he had to confide in some one, or he would burst; so he finally told her his version of everything that had taken place that morning. Some of the things he had seen; the rest were phantoms of his own terror; he enlarged on certain points in his narrative very fully—especially the awful language which the Irish had used, and the effective replies which he had made to them. The general impression given by his story was that in all probability he would have brought the Irish around all right, if Per Hansa and Henry Solum hadn’t stirred them up to fight; they had done just exactly the wrong things. And so a big ruffian had rushed forward with a sledge hammer; and Hans Olsa had gone into a mad rage and killed the man! From now on there would be nothing but war and bloodshed; so they might as well pack up and move right away! What a tragedy it was!...

Tönseten stayed safely in bed until late in the afternoon; then Kjersti came and told him that the strangers had gone. He got up immediately to see if it was true.... After that he seemed quite like himself again.

For a long time the Irish were the standing topic of discussion in the little settlement.

But whenever they were mentioned, Beret kept silent; she took no part in the joy and relief of the others, for there were certain circumstances connected with the affair which she couldn’t get out of her mind; the longer she looked at them the uglier they appeared.

... He had destroyed the stakes; and worse than that, he had kept it secret from everyone ... even from her!

... Shame had probably made him do that.... To be sure, she knew now that the stakes had been put down unlawfully. But suppose it had been otherwise—would he have done any different?... Was this the person in whom she had believed no evil could dwell?... Had it always been thus with him?

... Lives might have been lost; that, too, would have been his fault.... Nevertheless, he seemed to feel nothing but joy over the thing that he had done!...

... The explanation was plain; this desolation out here called forth all that was evil in human nature. Land fully as good as theirs extended round about them for thousands of miles; but then these people had come, and had immediately wanted to seize what had already been taken, thinking that it would be an easy matter, since they were the stronger; then her own husband had used deceit and force to drive them away; and now all was well!...

What would become of children who had to grow up in such an atmosphere?... Their own children!... She listened to her boys gloating over the incidents of the recent encounter—and her soul shuddered.

... No, she knew _one_ who could not endure it forever out here!

One afternoon a few days later the Irish came over to Per Hansa’s to buy more potatoes; they stayed for some time and asked for information on various matters; the boys translated the questions to their father as well as they could; Per Hansa thought the Irish were excellent folk!

At both Tönseten’s and Hans Olsa’s they had noticed the strangers come and go; in the evening they all went to Per Hansa’s to learn how the Irish had behaved.

... “Finest people in the world!” Per Hansa assured them, pacing the floor, uplifted by a surge of high spirits that somehow had to find an outlet. No sooner did he sit down than he was up again; his sallies of humour had a dashing quality that made them positively contagious. Tönseten was in a continual gale of hilarity; Kjersti and Sörine, who sat on the big bed with their knitting, had to let their work drop at intervals to laugh at Syvert’s and Per Hansa’s extravagances. Beret had just laid the child in the other bed, and was sitting beside her on the edge; both boys were listening eagerly to the talk of their elders.

That evening Per Hansa told them all about the stakes; of how he had found them, of what he had thought, and of the way he had finally disposed of them. He related the story in a loud voice, with boisterous, care-free zest; he made it sound exactly like a fairy tale.... Many words of praise were bestowed on his wise action; Tönseten was especially effusive—there was a neighbour for you! As for Kjersti, she was moved almost to tears over such a man. What a difference from that spineless jellyfish of a husband of hers!

“I’ll have to admit,” said Hans Olsa, soberly, “that you played a risky game; and it was the hand of the Lord that kept you from telling. For if they had been able to show that their stakes had ever been on my land, we’d probably be building a new house now, somewhere out to the westward. All our work this summer would have been for others.... My thanks to you, Per Hansa!”

As Beret listened to the tale, she had to examine the narrator closely; surely this couldn’t be Per Hansa! She remembered the morning when he had brought the stakes home; how he had chopped them up and put them furtively into the stove; and how his temper had taken hold of him at that time.... This was an entirely different person!

... So it had come to this, that he no longer felt ashamed of his sinful deed ... and that respectable folks sat around, rejoicing with him over it!... She got up quickly, overcome by a sudden feeling of suffocation; involuntarily, with out stopping to think, she said in a level, biting tone:

“Where I come from, it was always considered a shameful sin to destroy another man’s landmarks.... But here, I see, people are proud of such doings!”

Her outburst shocked the others into silence—all but Per Hansa. With a loud laugh he reached out clownishly, trying to catch her in his arms.

“Oh, Beret, come on, now!... Just kick the dog that bites you—that’s always the easiest way out, and the simplest, too!”

“I understand that perfectly well—though it makes poor Christianity.... But you were anything but confident, I noticed, that night when you stood over by the block, chopping up the stakes.” She turned away from him and seemed to speak to them all.... “Remember what the Book says: ‘Cursed be he that removeth his neighbour’s landmarks! And all the people shall say, Amen.’ ... words like these we used to heed.... In my opinion, we’d better take care lest we all turn into beasts and savages out here!” ...

Per Hansa laughed again with unnecessary loudness; but in the midst of the laugh he stopped, a wave of anger suddenly surging over him:

“We need a preacher, I hear.... Well, now we’ve got one!”

To this Beret made no reply; instead, she left the room abruptly. Outside, it was pitch dark; she knew not where to turn nor what she did; then she stumbled over the plow standing in the yard, and sank inertly on the plow beam.... As she sat there the storm within her slowly died away; deep melancholy came instead.... Long after the others had gone she remained in the same position. Per Hansa had not come out to look for her.... When she went in at last he had gone to bed; she could not make out if he was sleeping, but she did not speak to him. The boys also had gone to bed....

During the days that followed, words were few and distant between Per Hansa and his wife.

V. Facing the Great Desolation

I

In the beginning of October a memorable event stirred the little Spring Creek settlement. This, the greatest happening of the year, chose an opportune moment for its arrival.

It was shortly after dinner. In the early morning Per Hansa, Hans Olsa, and Henry Solum had gone east to the Sioux River after wood; Tönseten was so sorely troubled by rheumatism that he hadn’t been able to go along; anyway, he had wood enough on hand to last until after Christmas, and hauling would be easier on the snow. He did want some trees for planting; but as it was getting so late in the fall, with little likelihood of their taking root, he had given up the project.

Beret sat by the window at home; she was knitting some sort of a round affair—something so tiny that Store-Hans had asked her whether it was a new thumb for one of dad’s mittens?... His mother had given him a queer smile, and answered, maybe it was....

Beret had grown more sober as the autumn came, more locked up within herself; a heavy heart lay all the time in her bosom, but she tried her best to hide it from her husband.... Her knitting needles worked rapidly, with an involuntary rhythm; but her mind was not on her task; she barely glanced at the knitting as she emptied a needle; her gaze constantly wandered out-of-doors, flitting back and forth over the section of the plain that lay in her view. Her face wore that weary, abandoned expression which had now become habitual to it whenever she was left alone; a sense of such deep melancholy lay upon her, that her whole appearance seemed to reflect a never-ending struggle with unreality.... Round after round was added to the knitting; her gaze continued to wander....

... Without volition, it fastened on an object somewhere out there—and stayed. The knitting sank to her lap; she sat and gazed for a long time, motionless, self-absorbed. Deep compassion was mingled with her melancholy, as in the heart of one who would gladly give up life to save another from destruction.

... There must be many in that caravan!... She leaned forward, trying to count the wagons.... No, she could not make them out; the wagon train had already crossed the sky line and had come some distance toward her, settling into the blue-green stillness that lay over the intervening prairie.

... Some one else has gone astray!... Poor folks—poor folks!

Suddenly a strong impulse took hold of her to do something to save these people; she felt as if she ought to go and tell them to turn back; yes, turn back—turn back—before they had strayed any farther into destruction!...

She laid her knitting on the table, went outside, and stood at the door to look at them more clearly.... Were there five wagons in the caravan?... That meant a good many people.

... “Almighty God!” she sighed, “show mercy now to the children of men! Let not these folks be altogether lost in the trackless wilderness.... For it is only I who have sinned so sorely against Thee!”

Ole had gone to the woods with his father; Store-Hans at that moment came riding up from the creek, where he had been to water the pony; he saw his mother standing outside the door in an attitude of constrained attention, and rode rapidly toward her.

“What do you want, Mother?... What are you looking at?”

His words brought her out of her deep abstraction; she took a few steps forward, then halted again.... What was the use of trying? She couldn’t even speak the language of these people!... A feeling of unfathomable loneliness settled upon her; the cruelty of her fate suddenly took on fanciful proportions.... Here she was, an exile in an unknown desert; even when human beings passed, her own kind, she could not talk with them! How could the Lord have found it in His heart to smite a soul so heavily?... Beret put her hand up under her breast, where her own heart was beating, and pressed convulsively....

“What is it, Mother—what is it?”

“Ride ... ride over to them and see if you can’t do something ... help them out!”

The boy was suddenly all aglow with life; he wheeled the pony around, followed the direction of his mother’s gaze, and immediately discovered the caravan.

“We must tell Syvert at once!” ... Store-Hans turned his head, waiting for his mother’s opinion.

... “Syvert?” ... A shadow spread over her face.... What possible help could Syvert be to these poor people in their grievous need? She sighed in hopeless impotence.... “No, just ride over and ask them if you can do anything.... Tell them your father isn’t at home.”

Store-Hans couldn’t remember when he had ever heard his mother talk so sensibly; he straightened himself in the saddle, sitting like a grown man; then he spoke to the pony, gave it a slap with the flat of his hand, and shouted to his mother: “Now I’m off!... You had better go and tell Syvert!”

But other eyes than hers had wandered across the prairie to the eastern sky line that day. All at once Sam came running to tell the news; he stopped only an instant, then continued on toward Tönseten’s. Beret went into the house, roused And-Ongen, who was asleep on the bed, and took her along to tell Sörine; she, too, would be glad over a bit of news.... On the way over she prayed fervently to the Lord for these people, that they should not be lost in the blue-green endlessness.... She felt secretly glad because her husband was away from home.

II

Soon they were all gathered in front of Tönseten’s house, gazing with absorbed curiosity at the approaching train; it had drawn so close now that each wagon could be clearly distinguished; Store-Hans was riding abreast of the foremost team.

Tönseten fussed about excitedly, constantly thrusting his hands in and out of the waistband of his trousers; he was here, there, and everywhere, muttering incoherently all the while.... Good Lord! he thought, were these more Irish—as tough a gang as their last visitors? And Hans Olsa far away at the Sioux River!... Here was a fine mess, indeed!

Then Store-Hans came galloping in, and told a story so strange that all were lost in amazement.

“They are _Norskies_!” he shouted as he pulled up.

“What’s that you say?” exclaimed Tönseten.

“Yes, Norskies, every single one, I tell you! A whole shoal of them—and they are coming right here! They talk Norwegian, too.”

“Are you crazy!” shouted Tönseten.... At once he began to assume a great dignity and authority; he ordered Kjersti indoors to put on the coffeepot, and sent the other women to help her.... “Don’t you hear Hans say that they are Norskies! Decent folks must get a decent reception!”

And now he took Sam with him, and did like the patriarch of old: he went out to meet the strangers, entreating them to enter in under his humble roof.

A great event, indeed! The company consisted of five wagons and the same number of horse teams; they were good horses, too—Tönseten could see that they were in fine condition. There were twenty men in the company, all Sognings and Vossings[10]—but mostly Sognings; the majority of them were married men; some had large families back east in Minnesota; all were out seeking new homesteads; they intended to go back east in the fall, but would move west permanently as soon as spring came next year. They had passed through Sioux Falls and had been told at the land office of a settlement out here somewhere; so they had thought they’d better look the place over; but they were heading farther southwest, making for the James River or thereabouts.... Still, it was no small joy to these west-movers, to come across a cluster of sod huts inhabited by Norwegians out here on the endless prairie, and to find this hospitable, talkative man who was everywhere bustling about, trying to be of service to them.

[10] People from the districts of Sogn and Voss, in Norway.

They camped in the yard in front of Tönseten’s house. When he discovered how many they were he said no more about coffee; but he brought them potatoes and other vegetables, and generously shared the evening milk with them. He would not hear of their sleeping in the open that night.... Stay outside, he shouted, when they had come to Norwegians who owned a new-built house? That would never, never do!... At turning-in time, he and Kjersti crawled into bed first; then the floor space was packed with as many of the strangers as it would accommodate, the rest seeking shelter in the barn.

Tönseten didn’t get much rest that night; the worst of it was that he couldn’t talk to Kjersti, at a time when he so sorely needed her counsel.... Good God! how could he sleep, with this tremendous responsibility suddenly thrust upon him? A whole settlement of Norwegians snoring right in front of his bed!... Fine people, excellent people, every one! And there would be still more in the company when they moved west next spring.... Hang the luck!—that Per Hansa should be far away on the Sioux River at this important moment!... If he could only persuade them to settle here, the future would be secure for both himself and his neighbours.... Yes, let him bring that about, and things would look so bright that he could turn over in bed and drop asleep every night with a thankful heart!

... He ought to start out right now, and get Per Hansa, who had such a wonderfully persuasive gift of tongue. But he couldn’t discuss it with Kjersti; neither could he see any way to get out of the house; men lay snoring side by side, from the edge of the bed clear over to the door!...

When all the strangers finally left the room in the morning, so that he and Kjersti could get out of bed, Tönseten felt as if he hadn’t slept a wink all night; he realized full well that now he rose to confront his day of days.

He had no time to eat breakfast—he hardly noticed Kjersti when she called him; already he was deep in conversation with the west-movers, telling them all about the land around Spring Creek.... Surely they wouldn’t leave without first looking at it?... What?... No, that would be a great mistake, he’d better go along with them and show them around; he was just the man for the job, he dared say, for here he was thoroughly at home. Hadn’t he been the original discoverer of the place, the first to select it, and the first to build here and move in? He ought to have known what he was about when he chose _this_ particular spot—he who had been to Fox River, had visited Muskego and Koshkonong, had travelled all over Minnesota, and even through large parts of the Dakota Territory![11] ... Tönseten gave them a full account of his expedition last fall to the western region where they were bound; the land around Vermilion was quite familiar to him; Yankton he had seen with his own eyes. At this point he spun into the narrative a little yarn which he had fabricated last night in bed; it wasn’t exactly gospel truth, but—well, it might have happened! It was all about a man whom he had met in Yankton, an impoverished Scotchman, who had tried homesteading for two whole years up in the James River country; but the Indians and the fleas had been so annoying that they had finally driven him out of the place; his wife had died, and his cow had been stolen by the Indians!... Tönseten related the incident with a great show of sympathy.

[11] These are the first three Norwegian settlements in the Northwest.

The Sognings and Vossings were an inquiring people; they had many questions to ask; of course they would consider the Spring Creek locality before leaving it—that was their business on this trip.

Immediately after breakfast they started out to survey the place. Sam Solum went with them, talking and explaining volubly; Store-Hans also tagged along, and with him was Sofie; but by noontime she was so tired from scurrying around with Store-Hans, looking for badger holes, and still more from listening to the ceaseless talk of Tönseten, that she could endure it no longer and ran home. After she left Store-Hans joined the rest of the group; now and then he would put in a word that sounded grown-up when he thought the occasion called for it.

The prospective settlers kept asking and looking, and were still undecided about the matter; they liked the place, and yet they didn’t; the land seemed good; it lay nicely enough, and was easily tillable; but how bare and endless the scene was for the eye to rest upon!... Nothing but naked sky line all the way around!... It must be a desolate place in winter, without even a bramble bush for shelter.... And what were people to use for fuel? What for building material? Surely they couldn’t live in sod huts all their lives!... These were a few of the objections; and many more were added as the survey went on.

Tönseten fully realized what was at stake; he trembled with excitement; that day he argued and chattered until the small of his back ached and he had to sit down in sheer exhaustion.... But they were not able to advance a single objection that he couldn’t meet and do away with.

... “Wood for fuel and shelter?” ... His voice lowered with fervent zeal; his hands fought the air.... Wood? Man alive, this was exactly one of their most valuable assets! Here folks could have just as much woodland as they wanted—no more, and no less! One of his neighbours had planted half an acre of trees this summer, and had now gone for more seedlings; he would probably bring enough to plant another half acre when he returned—more than he and his descendants could ever use.... “I’ll just tell you, fellows, if it’s only wood, you can go east to the Sioux River as soon as you’ve unloaded your wagons, and get enough trees planted this very fall to last you for a thousand generations! I’ll go along and help you, and it won’t cost you a cent!... You see, folks, it’s really a matter to be thankful for, that there aren’t any woods already standing here; in these few months since we arrived, we’ve broken more land than one could break in ten years in a cutover country; in two years I’ll have my whole quarter-section under the plow!... For Heaven’s sake, fellows, don’t talk to me about _wood_!”

In this fashion Tönseten talked against time; he pictured the future to them with a fervour that was prophetic; his reddish beard glowed as if with a living fire; his eyes beamed; his voice shook with emotion; his body trembled; his arms made magnificent sweeping gestures in the air.... He told about the schools which they would found, and the church which they would build together; about the thriving town which would spring up on the spot where they stood, and the railroads that would crisscross the prairie in every direction; for the railroad had already reached Worthington—soon it would be at Sioux Falls! Then they would have only a twenty-five-mile journey to town—did they realize that? Only _twen-ty-five mi-les_!... Tönseten chopped the words up into syllables, and showed them each piece.... And just look at Sioux Falls! Why, only a year ago he had been obliged to go all the way down to Vermilion—not a sign of a land office in Sioux Falls at that time! But you could just bet that the government knew what it was about in coming so far north—just wait and see!... Tönseten apparently had the future all charted and laid out in detail before him; he never stumbled, never made a mistake; the man burned with an unquenchable fire.

... If they would settle here now, more would be sure to follow next spring; then they would all be Norskies here—a settlement made to order for all of them!... But suppose they went to a place where no one had come yet? Couldn’t they understand that all of Dakota Territory would never be peopled? Why, there weren’t enough folks in the whole world for that, and never would be, either!... Or if they should be so unfortunate as to choose a location where no one followed after?... What then?...

The strangers listened seriously to him; they were forced to admit that there was a good deal of common sense in what he said.

The party did not get back to camp until late in the afternoon. Then they cooked a substantial meal from the potatoes which Tönseten had given them; after that they held council; the majority were for settling down right here.

When Tönseten heard the decision, he gave an excited laugh; he ran hurriedly into the house and told Kjersti, who wept over the news; the next instant he had bounced out again. He felt now that Destiny had used him as her tool. He had only reached out his hand, and, lo! he had brought in twenty neighbours with a single stroke—Norwegians, every last mother’s son of them!... This good fortune seemed so overwhelming, it had befallen him so suddenly, that he wasn’t willing to trust it too far.... When the strangers hitched up their horses and crossed the creek—they had decided to settle on the east side, with a chance to expand southward—he felt obliged to go along with them; but after night had fallen and they had pitched their tents, and he was forced to leave them—then he was full of alarms.

... Many things might happen during the night!

III

They would soon have to make another trip to town. Beret looked forward to it with dread; it meant that Per Hansa would be gone for a whole week’s time. The evenings were long and the nights hung heavy over the hut; she had to struggle with so many fearful fancies—fancies that multiplied as time went on; though she felt unable to speak to him about it—though he would be unable to help her if she did—yet it was a great relief to have him near, for then it seemed as if the horror dared not touch her. She dreaded each occasion which took him away from home, even if it was only for half a day’s work with one of the neighbours.... And now he would be gone for a whole week’s time!

... She realized, too, that they would have to have provisions for the winter; the children were sadly in need of clothes, and Per Hansa himself needed many things. But in her condition, these material affairs became more and more unreal to her; it seemed as if she stood apart from them—they did not concern her.... All this she kept to herself, however; ah, what was the use of speaking where no one could hear!... She helped him get ready for the journey as if nothing were wrong; whenever he begged to know what he could buy for her and for the house, she would stop to ponder the question with a distant look in her eyes, as if trying to think of many things which she couldn’t for the moment remember. At that he would joke her, saying she mustn’t be backward about it, for now they had plenty of money; what was she standing there thinking of?... To this question he either would receive no answer at all, or else he would hear her repeat what she had just been saying; or perhaps she would make some absent-minded, irrelevant remark, as if she had not heard him.... At such times Per Hansa would look at his wife and sigh; then he would take hold of her and swing her around, trying to cheer her....

But beyond that he was too busy to pay much attention to her. On this trip to town he was going himself; Tönseten had offered to lend him his horses and wagon, and had promised to stay home and look after things. The Sognings and Vossings were still here; they needed advice and help in so many ways; and he, Tönseten, was just the man for that; he held himself like a father to them—yes, like Providence itself!... Per Hansa had a lot of plans to make before starting out; he wasn’t so short of money now; the Irish were fond of potatoes and had been good customers; as for the Sognings, they seemed even fonder of potatoes than the Irish; he had managed to sell them more than ten dollars’ worth; however it had happened, his cash supply was a good deal larger to-day than when he had first arrived in the early summer.

On the other hand, there was no end to all the things he needed; he had jotted down a long list of articles that simply had to be bought, and a still longer list that he ought to get if the money only held out.

When the mother wasn’t listening he talked earnestly to the boys of how they must look after the place during his absence. Ole, who was the bigger, would have to assume responsibility for everything out-of-doors; Injun, and Rosie, and the two oxen must be well taken care of; and then the wood—he must promise to chop up stacks of wood!... Store-Hans should serve as handy man to mother indoors; that was no easy job, even for a clever fellow like him—he understood that, of course?... The boys were far from enthusiastic over this arrangement; Ole had been hoping that his father would let him go along this time; he had taken pains to make himself useful on every occasion, ever since the trip had first been mentioned. Store-Hans, for his part, had harboured a secret hope that his father would bear in mind how exceedingly practical it was to have him along—he was so quick and handy about everything; he, too, had watched for every opportunity to please his father; he and his brother had often fought for the chance to run an errand. The disappointment hit Store-Hans the harder; here he would have to go pottering around like a hired girl—just like another woman! He fell to nagging, sulking, and fighting with his brother, all of which did not help in the least.

The father pitied him more than his older brother; he called him into the stable and talked to him long and confidentially, as though he were an old man with a long beard on his chin.... “You see, mother isn’t in such condition that we can both leave her,” he explained in a tone of open comradeship. “So if you go, I’ll have to stay at home!” ...

This was more than Store-Hans could understand; there wasn’t anything the matter with mother, was there? She looked well enough, except for her face; but wasn’t that probably because cold weather was coming on?

... “Oh, she’s healthy enough, Store-Hans—it isn’t that, you know. But”—the father’s voice grew low and queer—“You’d better not tell this to your brother—but there may be another little Store-Hans coming around here, say about Christmas time; and mother will have to bear the brunt of that business!... You understand, now, we mustn’t both leave her.”

My, but this was strange! Deep wonderment rose in the eyes of Store-Hans. How could another come here—another boy?... He didn’t dare to ask; he turned his head away from his father; a glowing blush covered his face.... Now he saw what the dream had meant that he had had the other night; he had seen both Joseph and Benjamin playing just beyond the house; and with them had been a tiny little fellow, who wasn’t mentioned in the Bible story!

... Oh yes ... of course he would take care of mother!

But, here was another thing: couldn’t father get hold of a shotgun when he went to town? The last time Store-Hans had been to the swamps the ducks had been thicker than ever.... And the Irish had settled awfully close to them!

... Well, the father didn’t know; he would see what he could do; he had thought of another way to catch those ducks, but what it was he wouldn’t let out now.

Indeed, Per Hansa’s mind was full of busy thoughts.... In the cellar were many more potatoes than they could consume during the winter or use as seed next spring; and now he was going to town with horses and wagon; it would be strange enough if he couldn’t find people who needed food. Alas! however, it was now already the twelfth of October; some nights it froze—and potatoes were sensitive to cold! But ever since the world was made the people of Nordland had known how to bring potatoes safely all the way up to Lofoten, even in the middle of January.... It could certainly be done again, with a little care!

Per Hansa pondered, looked at the weather, sniffed and tried the air. On the afternoon before their departure he came to a decision: there were more potatoes than they could use; if they froze, they froze. Yes, sir! he would give it a try! And so he went over to Tönseten’s and brought the wagon; he padded it thickly, bottom and sides, with soft hay; then he loaded it with potatoes in bulk. On top of the load he placed two sacks of rutabagas, and one of carrots; finally he picked out some of the nicest melons that were left in the cellar; these he tucked in between the sacks, covering everything with hay, and spreading some old clothes over the load.

Early the next morning they started off; Henry Solum and Hans Olsa went with him.

IV

The wagons drifted slowly through the outspread day, creeping on through indolent, drowsy fall sunshine and blue-green haze, toward a distant sky line from which hung a quivering yellow veil. For all they drove, the sky line came no closer; but when the purple shadows of evening fell, there seemed to be a chance, at least, that they might reach it.