Book I THE LAND-TAKING (continued 3)

“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....

He’s probably thinking of the ducks, Store-Hans decided; the knowledge made him very happy. Of course he was thinking of the ducks, and would soon hit upon some fine way to capture them!... At last Store-Hans could no longer restrain himself; he edged over to his father’s side, laid his hand on the stout thigh, and said in a deep joy:

... “Weren’t there a lot of ’em, Dad?” ...

“What?”

“Did you ever see so many ducks in all your life?”

“Ducks?... No.”

“You think we can get some of them, don’t you?” asked the boy, in a hushed, confidential tone.

But the father made no answer; he was already far away and did not hear. Just then the mother came out with the milk pail on her arm and called loudly to Rosie. This reached Per Hansa’s ears; he got up and took the pail from her.... “I might as well do the milking, since I’m only sitting here idling away my time.” ... He seemed so absent-minded that she looked hard at him; as he walked away his head drooped forward, his shoulders were slouched down, his whole body seemed strangely shrunken....

The next morning he was up earlier than usual; he left the house without saying a word. As soon as he was gone, Beret got up and went to the window to see what became of him. The early dawn was still in the sky; she saw him stride off westward; soon the slope of the hill hid him from view.... It’s only the ducks, she thought; I’m glad that he and the boys have found some diversion; but just the same, he ought not to wear himself out over such trifling things.... Beret turned away from the window, her face heavy with sadness.

The boys were up and the food was on the table when Per Hansa returned.... He was heated as if from a brisk walk, his wife noticed. She had to look at him a second time; there was something queer about his face this morning; it seemed so hard set and forbidding; although it glowed with the heat of his body, it lacked any warmth of expression. Instinctively she asked:

“Is anything wrong with you, Per?”

“No.” ... But he did not look up.

As soon as he had eaten he left the table, telling the boys to come along and help him; now was a good time to pace out the west line of their land; it had to be done soon, anyway; perhaps they would break a stretch of ground out there.... His words sounded cold and distant; he went out, and said no more.

Beret watched him narrowly.... There’s certainly something the matter with him, she thought.

Striking west from the house, Per Hansa paralleled his own south line, between his land and Hans Olsa’s; he knew exactly how far in from this line the house had been built; so he merely kept along with it, counting the paces. When he had reached the western limit of his quarter, he stood still; the grass had been trampled down all over the place.... “This is where it ought to be; the line should run straight north from here.” ... He walked a few paces north to show them the direction.... “There ought to be a small black stake driven down in the grass here somewhere, but I can’t seem to find it. Let’s go south first; look sharp and see if you can’t pick it up. If we don’t find it there, we’ll go the other way. Keep your eyes open, now, every step!”

“When did you put a stake down here?” asked Ole.

His father apparently didn’t hear him.... “It ought to be right here; funny, that we can’t find it!... The cattle must have tramped it into the ground.”

All three of them kept searching steadily the whole forenoon; the father seemed so excited, and walked so fast, that the boys could hardly keep up with him. They made tack after tack, north until they stood on Henry’s land, south to Hans Olsa’s; they did not go in single file, but walked abreast, four or five paces apart.

... “Look in the grass, boys—look carefully in the grass!” the father repeated a thousand times.

Whenever they reached the end of the line they zigzagged east and west; they looked everywhere, and combed the ground; but with all their labour and painstaking care, no stake could be found. The boys noticed something very odd about their father’s manner: the longer their search went on unsuccessfully, the less impenetrable became that wall of isolation around him. When they finally stopped on the last tack, looked around, and saw that they had covered every possible place, his voice sounded almost joyful.... “It must be that the cows have tramped it down!... Well, no harm done ... it was nothing but an old stick, anyway.”

IV

Beret soon came to realize that he was absorbed in things of which she was not to know. Whenever she happened to speak to him unexpectedly he seemed to be present and yet absent; even when he made an effort to converse naturally, he kept her at a distance; all his ardour seemed to have disappeared, and with it the childlike joyousness that she had loved so much in him, though she had been unable to respond to it.... No more did she hear his cheerful, fairy-tale banter about the royal mansion, and the king and queen; she was aware how often he lay awake at night, or tossed restlessly about in his sleep.... In a short while she became fully convinced that something had happened at last which he had to conceal from her; but she could not imagine what it might be. The whole affair was so unlike him, that it worried her night and day.... What, in Heaven’s name, could there be to conceal out here?

This mood lasted with him throughout the week. On the morning of the next Monday he was up early.... Beret had been lying awake the latter part of the night, feeling keenly that he was wrestling beside her with a monster which would not leave him in peace; but after a while she had fallen asleep again. When she finally opened her eyes the dim grey of dawn was creeping through the window; her husband was up and gone. The room somehow gave her the sensation that he must have left a long time ago; not a sound could be heard anywhere.... Beret got up, dressed herself hurriedly, and went outdoors. The plow was still there, she noticed, and the oxen lay a short distance from the house; but Per Hansa was nowhere in sight.... She felt so forlorn, so helpless, filled as she was with gnawing loneliness. Here she stood, abandoned in the great solitude, not knowing where he had gone nor what the trouble was.... What had happened to him? What was he struggling with, that had to be kept from her?... She called his name aloud a couple of times; but her voice trembled so strangely that she did not dare to call again. The sound died away unheeded.... It seemed to Beret that she had never felt the awful desolation of the place weigh so heavily upon her as on this morning.

In the meantime Per Hansa was engaged in a very curious task west on the prairie. He had risen before daylight; had gone out and hunted up the spade, which he had stuck under his arm; then he had started off in a general westerly direction. He made a longer détour than necessary around Hans Olsa’s house, watching closely as he went by to see if anyone there was up and stirring; once safely past, he quickened his gait.... So he came to a place at the southwest corner of Hans Olsa’s land, where a black imp stood nodding sleepily in the grass; there he came to a halt and looked about in all directions.... Not a soul to be seen. His eyes were snapping now; his mouth was tight and drawn; all his features seemed hardened into solid rock.... “God!” he muttered, “Hans Olsa has got himself into a nice mess!” ... He grasped the thing firmly, pulled it slowly out of the ground, and laid it aside with great care. Then he examined the hole, planning what he had better do; when he was finished, it was going to be hard to see that here a stake had ever been standing! He worked now with deep forethought and cunning; first he brought some loose soil from a distance in the spade, and filled the hole almost to the top; next he stopped it up with a sod plug; the grass of the plug grew as stout and green as that around it; he also took good care not to tramp down the grass near the hole, placing his feet lightly, as if he were afraid to rest his full weight on them.

At last he had finished and stood regarding his handiwork.... “If they only give the grass time to grow a little. I’ll be damned if they can chase Hans Olsa away on account of that stick of wood!” ... Then Per Hansa went on to the place when he had found the stake of Tönseten’s land; here he repeated the performance, but was even more careful not to trample down the grass.

When he returned home that morning he did not arrive from the west, but from the north. The boys were eating breakfast; the mother was busy, but she kept a watch through the window; she saw him come into the yard, stop by the woodpile and throw down the spade—then pause and glance hastily toward the house; but she went on with her work as if she had noticed nothing. Soon after she heard his footfall outside, passing along the wall.... He had gone into the stable!... He stayed there for some time before he came into the house.

As he entered the room Beret glanced at him from the corner of her eye.... Yes, there he stood, the man she knew ... but in his face shone something hard and menacing.... To-day they were going to plow, he told the boys—yes, plow! Both they and the oxen would get their bellyful.... His voice had the same unnatural, metallic hardness as his face; it seemed as if sparks flew when he spoke.

The stable was unoccupied as yet; at present it served as tool room, carpenter shop, and storehouse combined; Beret also used it for hanging spare clothes.... After they were gone, she happened to go into the stable looking for some garments that needed mending. There, quite by chance, she found the stakes; Per Hansa had hidden them behind the clothes. Burnt black to withstand the moisture, they hardly differed in colour from the walls; she would not have seen them at all, except for the carved letters; these stood out in the natural colour of the wood and looked like large worms in the black sod; they startled her—she had to see what they were. She picked the two stakes up and stood turning them over in her hands.... Here were some figures and letters ... more letters, that joined together and made something like names.... “Joe Gill,” said one; the other, “O’Hara.” ...

... What strange names, she thought.... Did people really have such names? If so, they must be Indians!... She kept turning the stakes over and over. The ends tapered down to a sharp point; they must have been made to stand in the ground; in fact, little particles of soil were clinging to them now. Where could Per Hansa have found them?... She put them back, found the garments she was looking for, returned to the house, and sat down to mend....

But she could not dismiss those mysterious stakes from her mind.... What did the numbers mean ... the numbers and letters ... and then, the names?... They must be landmarks. And they had been standing in the ground, too.... It suddenly occurred to her that he must have put them in there recently; it was only last week that she had hung up those clothes.... Perhaps ... could he have done it this very morning?... She laid her work aside and went out to the stable to examine them once more.... Yes, certainly they had been in the ground—just so far down they had been!

Back at her sewing again, her hands moved more and more slowly as she thought.... He had been struggling with something which must be kept from her.... His voice was sharper to-day, his face more determined.... It must be that he had brought them back with him this morning....

... Her thoughts slowly began to spin; the longer they spun, the less she liked the web; after a while she became so frightened that her hand shook and she had to drop her sewing....

When he came home for dinner, she told herself, she would ask him for an explanation of this matter; her fear was somewhat appeased by this resolution.... But then he came, still in a rigid, forbidding mood; and her thoughts grew so unspeakably dark and ugly that she could not utter them. At the same time, he seemed relieved in a measure, and more like himself.

After supper that night she heard him go into the stable and rummage around; then he came out and went across the yard. She stole to her post at the window; there he stood by the block, chopping up a stick of wood; it was burnt black, and tapered at one end; it had stood in the ground. He picked up every piece that he had split and cut them into short kindling wood!... He took another black stick and did the same with it.... Then he went down on his knees and began to gather the kindling, piece by piece, on his arm.... Now, what in the world.... Here he came, bringing it all into the house!...

Beret had timidly withdrawn to the corner by the stove; he saw her standing there but did not look at her directly; then he took off the lid of the stove and dumped in the armful of kindling.

... “Are you making a fire now?”

“Just some rubbish I picked up around the chopping block.”

She wanted to run around the stove and stop him, but could not; she felt that her knees would not carry her even those few steps. A question trembled on her lips; she must ask him now ... but the words would not come ... her tongue refused to obey.

... No, she could not ask such a question!... It was so hideous, so utterly appalling, the thought which she harboured; God forgive him, he was meddling with other folks’ landmarks!... How often she had heard it said, both here and in the old country: a blacker sin than this a man could hardly commit against his fellows!9

She stood motionless in the corner beyond the stove, watching her husband burn the proofs of his guilt; the terror that possessed her now was immeasurably greater than that which she had felt in the morning, when she had called his name and got no answer....

... That night Per Hansa slept the sleep of the righteous in spite of what he had done; now it was Beret who had a monster to wrestle with....

V

During the weeks that followed. Per Hansa’s temper made him hard of approach; the man seemed driven by a restless energy, an indomitable will that knew but one course—to break as much new land as possible each day.... “Do you intend to break the whole quarter-section this fall?” Hans Olsa asked him more than once. He had broken a large part of it already; a new piece was added every day; but still he found no rest, nor would the joyous peace of the early summer return to him.... His face now always wore that forbidding, menacing look, which often would flare up into a flame, and his voice would suddenly be hard as flint.

Before his thoughts stood ever the same problem: How would it turn out when the trolls came? Would he be able to hack off their heads and wrest the kingdom from their power?... It might happen that he would be going about with some object in his hand, and would suddenly grip it hard; all his strength would be needed to wield the enchanted sword.... For these would be archtrolls, no less. Here they had come and, disregarding all law and justice, had taken land in an unlawful manner.

There was another chain of thought which frequently led him on: Perhaps these men would never come back? They might just have happened along here the previous fall, before Tönseten arrived; have taken a liking to the place, and put down their stakes; and then have failed to go to the land office until after Tönseten’s visit there, at which time they would have found their claims taken up and recorded by another; or still more likely, for some reason or other they had never gone to the land office at all, but had allowed their claims to go by default.... That might have happened.

... But no, the explanation didn’t sound reasonable; those stakes hadn’t stood in the ground all winter—they didn’t look that way.... By God! the trolls had arrived after Tönseten’s sod house had been built; they had “beheld the land, and seen that it was good”!... So, there was nothing to do but wait for them to come back.... Not by a breath or a syllable did Per Hansa betray the secret of what he had done. At one time he had strongly considered telling Hans Olsa, but had finally given up the idea; better to keep him out of this for the time being!... In all this trouble, it never once occurred to him that had there been a prior claim on these quarters, Tönseten and Hans Olsa couldn’t have filed on them, and that the act of putting down claim stakes made no difference at all.

Beret’s thoughts continued to spin; the web had grown so dreadful to look at that she longed to cast it aside, but lacked the power.... He has done it, he has done it!—the thoughts spun on.... Here we are sitting on another man’s land, and Per Hansa intends to stay!... He has destroyed another man’s landmarks.... Oh, my God!...

In a certain sense, however, his guilt began to appear less fatal in her eyes as she continued to look at it; surely there was enough land out here for everyone; whether they got this quarter or another made no difference. She could not understand why one should make a fuss over a thing like that.... But the dishonourableness of the act made her shrink back in disgust.... And now a new terror—the terror of consequences! Per Hansa, poor fellow, could not even speak the language. How would he ever defend himself, when the case came up?... The stories that she had heard, both in Norway and east in Fillmore, of how people in this wild country would ruthlessly take the matters of law and justice into their own hands, also crept into the web of her thoughts. Here he was, unable to give a satisfactory explanation, guilty before the law of one of the blackest crimes that it was possible for man to commit.... He was so hasty and quick-tempered, too, whenever things went wrong; and now he was in a mood which made people afraid to approach him....

... Beret would look at her web until her whole body trembled and she had to reach out and grasp something to steady herself.

VI

Beret had now formed the habit of constantly watching the prairie; out in the open, she would fix her eyes on one point of the sky line—and then, before she knew it, her gaze would have swung around the whole compass; but it was ever, ever the same.... Life it held not; a magic ring lay on the horizon, extending upward into the sky; within this circle no living form could enter; it was like the chain inclosing the king’s garden, that prevented it from bearing fruit.... How could human beings continue to live here while that magic ring encompassed them? And those who were strong enough to break through were only being enticed still farther to their destruction!...

They had been here four months now; to her it seemed like so many generations; in all this time they had seen no strangers except the Indians—nor would they be likely to see any others.... Almost imperceptibly, her terror because of the stakes which her husband had burned had faded away and disappeared.... They had probably belonged to the Indians, so it did not matter; he had become fast friends with them....

People had never dwelt here, people would never come; never could they find home in this vast, wind-swept void.... Yes, they were the only ones who had been bewitched into straying out here!... Thus it was with the erring sons of men; they were lost before they knew it; they went astray without being aware; only others could see them as they were. Some were saved, and returned from their wanderings, changed into different people; others never came back.... God pity them: others never came back!...

At these times, a hopeless depression would take hold of her; she would look around at the circle of the sky line; although it lay so far distant, it seemed threatening to draw in and choke her....

... So she grew more taciturn, given to brooding thoughts.

But then the unthinkable took place: some one from outside broke through the magic circle....

It happened one evening. Ole had ridden the pony west to the swamps; on the way home he noticed a large white speck moving along through the haze on the eastern horizon. It did not seem so very far away; as he watched it came creeping closer; the boy was so startled that he could hear the beating of his own heart; he had to investigate this thing. The pony was fleet-footed; he had plenty of time to make a turn to the eastward; he rode directly toward the speck. When he had satisfied himself that west-movers were coming—the wagons indicated that—he turned toward home and urged the pony till his body lay flat to the ground. On the way in he stopped at Tönseten’s with the news, then at Hans Olsa’s; hastening on to his own house, he shouted loudly for them to come out and look ... come out in a hurry!

... What a strange feeling it gave them!... Two horses in front of a wagon; the wagon covered, just like their own!... And like their own, it came slowly creeping out of the eastern haze; like them, these folks were steering for Sunset Land.... Alas! thought Beret, some one else has been led astray!

The wagon held on toward Tönseten’s; it reached his place and halted. The incident was so unusual and startling that all in the little settlement forgot their good manners and rushed pell-mell over to Tönseten’s. Even Beret could not keep away; she put on a clean apron, took And-Ongen by the hand, and joined the others.... The whole colony, young and old, were gathered there when she arrived—everyone except Per Hansa.... He came up silently at last, carrying a heavy stick.

The company consisted of four men; they were from Iowa.... No, they didn’t intend to stop here; they were bound for a place about seventy miles to the southwest; the land was nearly all taken up around here, they had been told.... Tönseten and the Solum boys were conversing with them in English; Hans Olsa, together with the women and children, stood respectfully listening; as for Per Hansa, he was all eyes and ears, scrutinizing the four visitors from head to foot, trying to make out what they were saying.... His grip on the stick relaxed; hadn’t he understood that they were going seventy miles farther?...

At last he grew impatient, because he was unable to follow the conversation as well as he wished; he grasped Tönseten by the arm and pinched it so hard that he turned around angrily; but the next second he was talking again.

“What sort of people are they?”

“Germans.... Don’t bother me now!”

“You must tell them not to stop.... We want only Norwegians here, you know!”

But Tönseten had no time now to waste words on Per Hansa; that could be attended to in due season; he was deep in a long discussion with the strangers, all about the prospects for the future out here.

These four unexpected evening arrivals stayed with them overnight, and went on their way the next morning; the Spring Creek settlers had never seen them before; they would perhaps never see them again; but they all felt that this was the greatest event which had yet happened in the settlement.... Seventy miles farther into the evening glow these fellows were going—seventy long miles! Then this place would no longer be life’s last outpost!... Folks were coming, were passing on ... folks who intended to build homes!...

... A living bulwark was springing up between them and the endless desolation!...

Before the Germans left in the morning they came to examine Per Hansa’s house; Tönseten had told them of one of his neighbours who had built a dwelling and stable under one roof; they thought it would be well worth the trouble to go and look at a structure of that kind; they themselves were just beginning, and needed ideas. While they were there Per Hansa got a chance to sell them some potatoes and vegetables, to the amount of two dollars and seventy-five cents; this was the first produce to be sold out of the settlement on Spring Creek.... Tönseten didn’t take it kindly at all; he could have done as much himself; but who would ever have thought of such a thing?... He certainly watches his chances, that fellow Per Hansa!

VII

The strangers finally managed to make a start late that forenoon; the Spring Creek folks stood watching the wagon as it grew smaller and smaller, until it was only a dot on the horizon, receding farther and farther under the brow of the heavens; at last it disappeared—but whether into the earth or into the sky, no one could tell....

This visit affected each one differently, according to his own traits and peculiarities; but with all it was a new incentive to let their eyes scan the prairie. They had always done this, of course; but more often it had been with the object of straightening their tired backs for a moment, than to seek for actual traces of wandering fellow beings.... The visit had encouraged them all, but Tönseten and his wife were especially firm and optimistic in their faith; from now on Syvert always spoke of the future with fervent conviction, and Kjersti went about listening to him in a glow of silent but none the less ardent devotion. The Solum boys also had little doubt of the omen—this wagon was only the forerunner of more to come! The next in order of enthusiasm was Sörine, to whom faith imparted a glad calmness. Hans Olsa let every day be sufficient unto itself, enjoyed the confident spirits of the others, and set himself every day to accomplish something needful; he was not a fast worker, but got things done with a peculiar sureness of purpose and steadiness of gait; it did not seem of great importance to him how many new people came; the important thing was how they got along—the folks who were here already.

Per Hansa was even louder in his optimism than Tönseten. Now there were settlers to both the east and the southwest of them; far away to the northeast, too, folks were known to have taken up land; the time wasn’t far distant when they would have near neighbours all around. There were moments, even, when he felt confident that he would live to see the day when most of the land of the prairie would be taken up; in such moods, there was something fascinating about him; bright emanations of creative force seemed to issue out of his square, stocky figure; his whole form became beautiful, the lines of his face soft and delicate; whenever he spoke a tone of deep joy rang in his words.... But these moods did not last; when there came a pause in the fairy tale, Per Hansa fell silent about the future, worked, intensely and grew cross and irritable; at such times he was a hard man to deal with.

To Beret the visit had seemed nothing but a brief interruption to the endless solitude. The facts were unchangeable—it was useless to juggle with them, or delude oneself; nothing but an eternal, unbroken wilderness encompassed them round about, extending boundlessly in every direction; that these vast plains, so like infinity, should ever be peopled and settled, would be a greater miracle than for dead men to rise up and walk!...

It happened about a week later, that another caravan came creeping slowly out of the evening. This was a great procession—six teams of horses, with the same number of wagons.... Darkness was already falling when they were sighted. Per Hansa’s boys wanted to start out at once, and were quarrelling over who should ride to meet the strangers; but the father suddenly came and told them both to stay at home; he spoke in such a determined voice that they understood it would be useless to mention the matter again.... They shouldn’t be running out to meet every stranger, he went on, as though they had never seen people before! Time enough to speak with these newcomers to-morrow. He was going over now to find out if they needed any potatoes.... He suited the action to the word.

At Hans Olsa’s house the caravan had not yet been sighted; Per Hansa saw a light in the window as he passed. Tönseten was standing outside when he arrived there; the caravan lay some distance off to the southward, steering too far west to fetch the settlement.

“You’re going to have visitors,” Per Hansa greeted his neighbour.

“It looks that way!” chuckled Tönseten.... “Though I’m afraid they’re heading a little too far west.”

They stood gazing at the train of wagons, now less than a hundred yards away; through the dusk they could just make out the forms of the men driving. Kjersti stood behind them in the door, laughing to herself and wondering how she could put them all up for the night.... Oh, well, if it couldn’t be arranged here, Per Hansa would have to take some of them home to his place.

... “I wonder what kind of people they are?” Tönseten mused.... “Are they going to pass right by an open door?”

“That’s just what they’re doing!” said Per Hansa, curtly, fearing that now the trolls were upon them.

“But surely they can see us?”

“They ought to, if they have eyes!”

The caravan had now drawn abreast of them to the southwest; it was so near that they could hear the panting of the horses; then the foremost wagon swung off a trifle and took a more westerly course; they evidently had no intention of camping here for the night.

“You’d better go over and talk to them, Syvert,” said Kjersti.... “We’ll make room for them somehow.”

Tönseten gazed at them open-mouthed; tears of disappointment stood in his eyes.... “That’s a fine way to act!” he spluttered.... “Hadn’t we better go over and invite them?”

Per Hansa’s eyes flashed daggers; his face lighted up with irresistible forcefulness.... “We won’t bother about that just yet.... They might be high-toned, you know—heading for Hans Olsa’s place, or mine!”

The train moved slowly on toward the northwest, until it was on the line between Hans Olsa’s and Tönseten’s; there the wagons stopped and the horses were unhitched; the newcomers had evidently decided to pitch their camp for the night.

... “It’s the strangest thing I ever saw!” said Tönseten, as if speaking to himself. “Can you imagine anyone coming into a neighbourhood where the houses are standing around as thick as fleas on a dog’s back, and not even wanting to talk to the folks who live in ’em?... I call it a damned outrage! What’s the matter—are they afraid of us?”

“It doesn’t seem as if they can really be civilized people!” put in Kjersti.

“Most likely they’ve got some nice-looking girls aboard, and are afraid the place is full of knock-about single men!” Per Hansa explained, calmly.

The three puzzled folks stood there watching and wondering; through the deepening dusk they couldn’t make out clearly what the strangers were doing.... Apparently they were building a fire down on the slope; a glare of flames intermittently rose and spread, waned and reappeared; it seemed to flit back and forth on the ground.

“Do you know what, Syvert?” Per Hansa suggested, mischievously.... “Since those fellows won’t come and talk to us, we’d better take a trip over and visit them. We might even talk them into buying some potatoes—eh? We must watch our chances, you know.” ... He was anxious to get a look at them.

Tönseten could see no particular objection, especially since Per Hansa had an errand with them; but it did seem rather humiliating to go and shake hands with folks who had refused to say “hullo” to them.... But after a moment they started on their way.

They had walked only a few steps, however, when he drew up with a jerk. “Let’s go over to Hans Olsa’s and take him along; he’d like to shake hands with them too, you know.”

—Not at all—certainly not!—was Per Hansa’s decisive reply. Hans Olsa knew no more English than he did; and it was devilish awkward to stand around and stare strangers in the face, without knowing a word they said; he himself would never have thought of going if it hadn’t been that they ought to make use of the opportunity to sell some potatoes!...

They went on a few steps farther, and then Tönseten stopped again; his courage was dripping away.... Suppose they were Scandinavians?

—What nonsense!... Per Hansa kept right on walking. Neither Swedes nor Danes behaved in that boorish fashion; anyway, they probably had all gone to bed at Hans Olsa’s; they always turned in early there.

The fire burned lustily over on the prairie; four women went to and fro placing dishes of food on a big green cloth spread on the ground; some of the men had already gathered around it; others were occupied with the wagons.... As they drew near, Per Hansa counted ten men in all; he scrutinized their faces closely, one by one; but he found none that he liked.... Tönseten went briskly up to the fire and greeted those who were sitting around; Per Hansa did likewise. The strangers plainly sneered at their greeting; they said something among themselves which Per Hansa did not understand....

—Where did these men come from? Tönseten asked, boldly.

—From down in Iowa.

—Were they going far west?

—No!

This much Per Hansa was able to follow; but here he began to lose the meaning; the men spoke English too fast, and Tönseten wasn’t much better; not that it made any difference, however; Per Hansa knew all that he needed to know.... They had come at last!... Of the conversation that followed he only understood that it was about land and that the men were making sport with Tönseten, who had grown angry and now spoke still faster.... It was unbelievable how fast Syvert could rattle off the English!... The strangers’ mockery was getting rather ugly now; he could tell it by the sound of their laughter.... Damn it all, to think that he couldn’t talk to them!

“Huh!” exclaimed Tönseten, turning suddenly to his neighbour ... “Can you imagine what they are saying?... They ... they insist that both my quarter and Hans Olsa’s belong to them!”

“You don’t say!... What about mine?”

But Tönseten paid no further attention to him; he was off again in his squabble with the Irishmen, and growing more and more excited with every word.... It struck Per Hansa that if Syvert didn’t stop a moment to catch his breath, he was either going to explode, or else he would burst into tears; he grasped his arm firmly.

“What do they say, Syvert?”

“They say they’ve taken up all the land between the creek and the swamps over to the westward, a strip two quarter-sections wide.... And they talk rougher and wilder than anything I ever heard; they’re threatening murder, and fire, and state’s prison!”

“Do they say when they were here?”

“Last summer, and late in the fall, and early this spring, too!”

“What cultivation have they done to meet the law?” ... Per Hansa spoke calmly and thoughtfully.

“They claim that they’ve been granted exemption from the government because they were soldiers in the Civil War!... Isn’t that the devil’s own luck?”

“Ask to see their papers.”

“They say they’ve got the papers. They’ll produce them in the morning, all right!”

“Then we might as well go home and get to bed!” said Per Hansa, calmly.... “But be sure to ask whether they need any potatoes!” he added with a flash of roguishness.

But Tönseten had not heard; he was once more absorbed in wrangling. The men about the fire had now all risen; those who were working at the wagons had joined them; a close circle had formed around the pair. Per Hansa watched in silence, his pipe hanging unlighted from one corner of his mouth; when his eyes caught those of one of the strangers he held on some time before letting go.

“Well,” he put in, dryly, as Tönseten stopped to catch his breath, “don’t they want to buy any potatoes?” ...

“Potatoes!” cried Tönseten.... “You ought to hear how savagely they talk! They say they don’t need to show any papers to thieves and claim jumpers like us!”

“All right.... Have they got their stakes down here, too?”

“On both quarters, they say!” ...

Per Hansa saw that if Tönseten kept on much longer, he would go to pieces entirely; that would be rather embarrassing for both of them.

“Come on, Syvert, let’s go home to bed.... It looks as though we couldn’t make a deal in potatoes, anyway!”

At that he calmly began to elbow his way out of the circle; Tönseten saw him going, grew alarmed, and hurried after. Some one of the Irish must have tripped him; he stumbled and nearly lost his balance; this made them all laugh—but one man in particular roared with glee; his jeering voice had an offensive, deliberately insulting tone.

... Per Hansa wheeled suddenly and stood glaring at them; Tönseten glanced at him and grew frightened in earnest.

... “Come on!” he cried with chattering teeth, and took to his heels.

... “Hell, Syvert—wait a minute!”

Per Hansa kept searching the crowd until he found the face from which that insolent jeering came; a grim, cold sneer had spread over his own. At last he located the fellow, close at hand; he held his clenched fist under the man’s nose, drew his head well down between his shoulders in order to get more power, and said in a dry, rasping voice, in the broadest Nordland dialect:

“Now, by God! you’d better shut up your mouth or I’ll wipe that grin off your face for you!”

His eyes actually seemed to scorch the man; then he let up, straightened his shoulders, and glanced around at the crowd.

... Apparently no one was anxious to have anything to do with him; the jeering laughter died away. Then he let his gaze travel slowly back to the first man; the fellow had sense enough not to laugh any more.... And so, since he couldn’t talk to them, there was nothing left for Per Hansa to do but go away....

Off in the dark he could hear a faint calling; by the sound of Tönseten’s voice he was not far from tears now.

“I’ll take all our papers along to-morrow and show them—they’ll see what’s what!” he blubbered, as Per Hansa came up.... “You shouldn’t be so hasty! Suppose they had all fallen upon us!... Good heavens!...”

“Well, you can try your papers on them, if you want to.... But let me tell you this, my good Syvert: with these people you can’t use either the ‘Catechism’ or the ‘Epitome’; they don’t live according to the Scriptures!” ...

Tönseten drew a long and heavy sigh.... “My God! what troubles a man may fall into!... It makes me shudder to think how wild they talked!”

When they parted it was agreed that all the menfolk should meet early next morning, to counsel together as to what must be done. Per Hansa was to notify Hans Olsa and the Solum boys, and bring all three over to Tönseten’s.

“Don’t breathe a word to Kjersti about how things are!” Per Hansa warned him.... “If the women ever get hold of this, they’ll die of fright!... We’ll find a way out somehow—I tell you we will!”

VIII

As he walked homeward Per Hansa was a totally different man from the one who had gone over to Tönseten’s a couple of hours before. Then he had carried a heavy burden of worry and care; but now he walked with a lightsome, buoyant step, very well pleased with the turn events had taken. His mood lightened and brightened as he figured things out and added up the total. The problem came out just right.... These fellows were nothing but a pack of scoundrels; the thought was so comforting to him that he felt like thanking the Lord. They had not filed their claims at all; he doubted very much if they were soldiers; if they had had a clear case, they would have produced their papers at once.... Why, one only needed to look at their faces! Next moment he began to whistle, striking up the merry tune of an old polka. It wasn’t so much because they would not be able to chase him away that he was glad; but because now he was once more a guiltless man! He felt so light-hearted and free again that he could have leaped up and soared through the air.... How fine life was, after all! He didn’t know, just at present, exactly how he was to snatch his neighbours out of the grip of the trolls; but matters would straighten themselves out somehow; the magic sword would be there when he needed it!...

When he got home the boys were sitting up in bed, undressed and waiting for him; Beret stood by the stove, roasting a substitute for coffee which she made from potatoes; the room was filled with smoke and the door stood open. She looked at him in the faint glimmer from the lamp; his face bore nothing but signs of good, she saw; then no danger hung over them! Perhaps a few more settlers would arrive as the years passed.... The boys were asking questions both together in a steady stream; now and then she quietly slipped in a question of her own; but the flood of talk from the bed was so torrential that she could scarcely be heard. The father had to go over and give them a box or two on the ears, to quiet them down; but it turned into skylarking instead of chastising, with screams of laughter and a new flood of questions; they had forgotten their anger at not being allowed to go with him!... The wife asked, and the boys asked over and over again: what nationality the newcomers belonged to, how many they were, and whether they were going to settle here; how many horses they had, how many cattle; whether they had any women; what they had brought in their wagons; if they had bargained for many potatoes; and the like. It seemed as if their curiosity could never be satisfied.... But the father was in such a good humour that he had a bantering answer for everything, no matter what silly questions they asked; he entered wholeheartedly into the hilarity of the boys, till he too was talking only nonsense.... These folks were all Irish, he explained; their women were terrible trolls, with noses as long as rake handles.... Settle here? Not they! No, they were going on to the end of the world, and a long way farther. They were much, much uglier than the Indians, and spoke so terribly fast that it sounded like this.... He hardly thought there would be a chance to sell any potatoes; troll women ate the flesh of Christian men, instead of potatoes—didn’t they know that? Just the same, he was going to take a couple of sacks along to-morrow, to see whether he couldn’t tempt them away from their regular fare.... His banter grew so boisterous at last that Beret was half-frightened; but his voice sounded so bright and cheerful, and had such a warm, infectious gladness running through it, that she could not find it in her heart to reprove him. When they went to bed later in the evening he put his arm lovingly around her and fell asleep almost immediately.... She felt sure there could be no danger this time.

But before she was awake, and long before the faintest light of day shone into the room, Per Hansa was up again; he ate some cold porridge left from the night before, put the deed into his pocket, and went over to the Solum boys’ place; there he roused them, and waited till they had eaten a mouthful or two; then all three continued on to Hans Olsa’s.