Book I THE LAND-TAKING

I. Toward the Sunset

I

BRIGHT, clear sky over a plain so wide that the rim of the heavens cut down on it around the entire horizon.... Bright, clear sky, to-day, to-morrow, and for all time to come.

... And sun! And still more sun! It set the heavens afire every morning; it grew with the day to quivering golden light—then softened into all the shades of red and purple as evening fell.... Pure colour everywhere. A gust of wind, sweeping across the plain, threw into life waves of yellow and blue and green. Now and then a dead black wave would race over the scene ... a cloud’s gliding shadow ... now and then....

It was late afternoon. A small caravan was pushing its way through the tall grass. The track that it left behind was like the wake of a boat—except that instead of widening out astern it closed in again.

“Tish-ah!” said the grass.... “Tish-ah, tish-ah!” ... Never had it said anything else—never would it say anything else. It bent resiliently under the trampling feet; it did not break, but it complained aloud every time—for nothing like this had ever happened to it before.... “Tish-ah, tish-ah!” it cried, and rose up in surprise to look at this rough, hard thing that had crushed it to the ground so rudely, and then moved on.

A stocky, broad-shouldered man walked at the head of the caravan. He seemed shorter than he really was, because of the tall grass around him and the broad-brimmed hat of coarse straw which he wore. A few steps behind him followed a boy of about nine years of age. The boy’s blond hair was clearly marked against his brown, sunburnt neck; but the man’s hair and neck were of exactly the same shade of brown. From the looks of these two, and still more from their gait, it was easy to guess that here walked father and son.

Behind them a team of oxen jogged along; the oxen were drawing a vehicle which once upon a time might have been a wagon, but which now, on account of its many and grave infirmities, ought long since to have been consigned to the scrap heap—exactly the place, in point of fact, where the man had picked it up. Over the wagon box long willow saplings had been bent, in the form of arches in a church chancel—six of them in all. On these arches, and tied down to the body on each side, were spread first of all two handwoven blankets, that might well have adorned the walls of some manor house in the olden times; on top of the blankets were thrown two sheepskin robes, with the wool side down, which were used for bed-coverings at night. The rear of the wagon was stowed full of numberless articles, all the way up to the top. A large immigrant chest at the bottom of the pile, very long and high, devoured a big share of the space; around and above it were piled household utensils, tools, implements, and all their clothing.

Hitched to this wagon and trailing behind was another vehicle, homemade and very curious-looking, so solidly and quaintly constructed that it might easily have won a place in any museum. Indeed, it appeared strong enough to stand all the jolting from the Atlantic to the Pacific.... It, too, was a wagon, after a fashion; at least, it had been intended for such. The wheels were made from pieces of plank fitting roughly together; the box, considerably wider than that of the first wagon, was also loaded full of provisions and household gear, covered over with canvas and lashed down securely. Both wagons creaked and groaned loudly every time they bounced over a tussock or hove out of a hollow.... “Squeak, squeak!” said the one.... “Squeak, squeak!” answered the other.... The strident sound broke the silence of centuries.

A short distance behind the wagons followed a brindle cow. The caravan moved so slowly that she occasionally had time to stop and snatch a few mouthfuls, though there was never a chance for many at a time. But what little she got in this way she sorely needed. She had been jogging along all day, swinging and switching her tail, the rudder of the caravan. Soon it would be night, and then her part of the work would come—to furnish milk for the evening porridge, for all the company up ahead.

Across the front end of the box of the first wagon lay a rough piece of plank. On the right side of this plank sat a woman with a white kerchief over her head, driving the oxen. Against her thigh rested the blond head of a little girl, who was stretched out on the plank and sleeping sweetly. Now and then the hand of the mother moved across the child’s face to chase away the mosquitoes, which had begun to gather as the sun lowered. On the left side of the plank, beyond the girl, sat a boy about seven years old—a well-grown lad, his skin deeply tanned, a certain clever, watchful gleam in his eyes. With hands folded over one knee, he looked straight ahead.

This was the caravan of Per Hansa, who with his family and all his earthly possessions was moving west from Fillmore County, Minnesota, to Dakota Territory. There he intended to take up land and build himself a home; he was going to do something remarkable out there, which should become known far and wide. No lack of opportunity in that country, he had been told!... Per Hansa himself strode ahead and laid out the course; the boy Ole, or Olamand, followed closely after, and explored it. Beret, the wife, drove the oxen and took care of little Anna Marie, pet-named And-Ongen (which means “The Duckling”), who was usually bubbling over with happiness. Hans Kristian, whose everyday name was Store-Hans (meaning “Big Hans,” to distinguish him from his godfather, who was also named Hans, but who, of course, was three times his size), sat there on the wagon, and saw to it that everyone attended to business.... The cow Rosie trailed behind, swinging and switching her tail, following the caravan farther and farther yet into the endless vista of the plain.

“Tish-ah, tish-ah!” cried the grass.... “Tish-ah, tish-ah!” ...

II

The caravan seemed a miserably frail and Lilliputian thing as it crept over the boundless prairie toward the sky line. Of road or trail there lay not a trace ahead; as soon as the grass had straightened up again behind, no one could have told the direction from which it had come or whither it was bound. The whole train—Per Hansa with his wife and children, the oxen, the wagons, the cow, and all—might just as well have dropped down out of the sky. Nor was it at all impossible to imagine that they were trying to get back there again; their course was always the same—straight toward the west, straight toward the sky line....

Poverty-stricken, unspeakably forlorn, the caravan creaked along, advancing at a snail’s pace, deeper and deeper into a bluish-green infinity—on and on, and always farther on.... It steered for Sunset Land!...

For more than three weeks now, and well into the fourth, this caravan had been crawling across the plain.... Early in the journey it had passed through Blue Earth; it had left Chain Lakes behind; and one fine day it had crept into Jackson, on the Des Moines River. But that seemed ages ago.... From Jackson, after a short lay-up, it had pushed on westward—always westward—to Worthington, then to Rock River.... A little west of Rock River, Per Hansa had lost the trail completely. Since then he had not been able to find it again; at this moment he literally did not know where he was, nor how to get to the place he had to reach. But Split Rock Creek must lie out there somewhere in the sun; if he could only find that landmark, he could pick his way still farther without much trouble.... Strange that he hadn’t reached Split Rock Creek before this time! According to his directions, he should have been there two or three days ago; but he hadn’t seen anything that even looked like the place.... Oh, my God! If something didn’t turn up soon!... My God!...

The wagons creaked and groaned. Per Hansa’s eyes wandered over the plain. His bearded face swung constantly from side to side as he examined every inch of ground from the northeast to the southwest. At times he gave his whole attention to that part of the plain lying between him and the western sky line; with head bent forward and eyes fixed and searching, he would sniff the air, like an animal trying to find the scent. Every now and then he glanced at an old silver watch which he carried in his left hand; but his gaze would quickly wander off again, to take up its fruitless search of the empty horizon.

It was now nearing six o’clock. Since three in the afternoon he had been certain of his course; at that time he had taken his bearings by means of his watch and the sun.... Out here one had to get one’s cross-bearings from the very day itself—then trust to luck....

For a long while the little company had been silent. Per Hansa turned halfway around, and without slackening his pace spoke to the boy walking behind.

“Go back and drive for a while now, Ola1.... You must talk to mother, too, so that it won’t be so lonesome for her. And be sure to keep as sharp a lookout as you can.”

“I’m not tired yet!” said the boy, loath to leave the van.

“Go back, anyway! Maybe you’re not, but I can feel it beginning to tell on me. We’ll have to start cooking the porridge pretty soon.... You go back, and hold her on the sun for a while longer.”

“Do you think we’ll catch up with them to-night, Dad?” The boy was still undecided.

“Good Lord, no! They’ve got too long a start on us.... Look sharp, now! If you happen to see anything suspicious, sing out!” ... Per Hansa glanced again at his watch, turned forward, and strode steadily onward.

Ole said no more; he stepped out of the track and stood there waiting till the train came up. Then Store-Hans jumped down nimbly, while the other climbed up and took his seat.

“Have you seen anything?” the mother asked in an anxious voice.

“Why, no ... not yet,” answered the boy, evasively.

“I wonder if we shall ever see them again,” she said, as if speaking to herself, and looked down at the ground. “This seems to be taking us to the end of the world ... beyond the end of the world!”

Store-Hans, who was still walking beside the wagon, heard what she said and looked up at her. The buoyancy of childhood shone in his brown face.... Too bad that mother should be so scared!...

“Yes, Mother, but when we’re both steering for the sun, we’ll both land in the same place, won’t we?... The sun is a sure guide, you know!”

These were the very words which he had heard his father use the night before; now he repeated them. To Store-Hans the truth of them seemed as clear as the sun itself; in the first place, because dad had said it, and then because it sounded so reasonable.

He hurried up alongside his father and laid his hand in his—he always felt safer thus.

The two walked on side by side. Now and then the boy stole a glance at the face beside him, which was as stern and fixed as the prairie on which they were walking. He was anxious to talk, but couldn’t find anything to say that sounded grown-up enough; and so he kept quiet. At last, however, the silence grew too heavy for him to bear. He tried to say indifferently, just like his father:

“When I’m a man and have horses, I’m going to make a road over these plains, and ... and put up some posts for people to follow. Don’t you think that’ll be a good idea?”

A slight chuckle came from the bearded face set toward the sun.

“Sure thing, Store-Hans—you’ll manage that all right.... I might find time to help you an hour or two, now and then.”

The boy knew by his father’s voice that he was in a talkative mood. This made him so glad, that he forgot himself and did something that his mother always objected to; he began to whistle, and tried to take just as long strides as his father. But he could only make the grass say: “Swish-sh, swish-sh!”

On and on they went, farther out toward Sunset Land—farther into the deep glow of the evening.

The mother had taken little Anna up in her lap and was now leaning backward as much as she could; it gave such relief to her tired muscles. The caresses of the child and her lively chatter made her forget for a moment care and anxiety, and that vague sense of the unknown which bore in on them so strongly from all directions.... Ole sat there and drove like a full-grown man; by some means or other he managed to get more speed out of the oxen than the mother had done—she noticed this herself. His eyes were searching the prairie far and near.

Out on the sky line the huge plain now began to swell and rise, almost as if an abscess were forming under the skin of the earth. Although this elevation lay somewhat out of his course, Per Hansa swung over and held straight toward the highest part of it.

The afternoon breeze lulled, and finally dropped off altogether. The sun, whose golden lustre had faded imperceptibly into a reddish hue, shone now with a dull light, yet strong and clear; in a short while, deeper tones of violet began to creep across the red. The great ball grew enormous; it retreated farther and farther into the empty reaches of the western sky; then it sank suddenly.... The spell of evening quickly crowded in and laid hold of them all; the oxen wagged their ears; Rosie lifted her voice in a long moo, which died out slowly in the great stillness. At the moment when the sun closed his eye, the vastness of the plain seemed to rise up on every hand—and suddenly the landscape had grown desolate; something bleak and cold had come into the silence, filling it with terror.... Behind them, along the way they had come, the plain lay dark green and lifeless, under the gathering shadow of the dim, purple sky.

Ole sat motionless at his mother’s side. The falling of evening had made such a deep impression on him that his throat felt dry; he wanted to express some of the emotions that overwhelmed him, but only choked when he tried.

“Did you ever see anything so beautiful!” he whispered at last, and gave a heavy sigh.... Low down in the northwest, above the little hill, a few fleecy clouds hovered, betokening fair weather; now they were fringed with shining gold, which glowed with a mellow light. As if they had no weight, they floated lightly there....

The mother drew herself forward to an upright position. She still held the child in her lap. Per Hansa and Store-Hans were walking in the dusk far up ahead. For the last two days Per had kept well in advance of the caravan all the time; she thought she knew the reason why.

“Per,” she called out, wearily, “aren’t we going to stop soon?”

“Pretty soon.” ... He did not slacken his pace.

She shifted the child over into the other arm and began to weep silently. Ole saw it, but pretended not to notice, though he had to swallow big lumps that were forcing themselves up in his throat; he kept his eyes resolutely fixed on the scene ahead.

“Dad,” he shouted after a while, “I see a wood over there to the westward!”

“You do, do you? A great fellow you are! Store-Hans and I have seen that for a long time now.”

“Whereabouts is it?” whispered Store-Hans, eagerly.

“It begins down there on the slope to the left, and then goes around on the other side,” said his father. “Anyway, it doesn’t seem to be much of a wood.”

“D’you think they are there?”

“Not on your life! But we’re keeping the right course, anyhow.”

“Have the others been this way?”

“Of course they have—somewhere near, at any rate. There’s supposed to be a creek around here, by the name of Split Rock Creek, or whatever they call it in English.”

“Are there any people here, do you think?”

“People? Good Lord, no! There isn’t a soul around these parts.”

The sombre blue haze was now closing rapidly in on the caravan. One sensed the night near at hand; it breathed a chill as it came.

At last Per Hansa halted. “Well, I suppose we can’t drive any farther to-day. We and the animals would both drop pretty soon.” With these words he faced the oxen, held his arms straight out like the horizontal beam of a cross, shouted a long-drawn “Whoa!”—and then the creaking stopped for that day.

III

The preparations for the night were soon made; each had his own task and was now well used to it. Store-Hans brought the wood; it lay strapped under the hind wagon and consisted of small logs and dry branches from the last thicket they had passed.

Ole got the fireplace ready. From the last wagon he brought out two iron rods, cleft in one end; these he drove into the ground and then went back to the wagon for a third rod, which he laid across the other two. It was also his duty to see that there was water enough in the keg, no matter where they happened to stop; for the rest of it, he was on hand to help his mother.

The father tended to the cattle. First he lifted the yoke off the oxen and turned them loose; then he milked Rosie and let her go also. After that he made up a bed for the whole family under the wagon.

While the mother waited for the pot to boil she set the table. She spread a home-woven blanket on the ground, laid a spoon for each one on it, placed a couple of bowls for the milk, and fetched the dishes for the porridge. Meanwhile she had to keep an eye on And-Ongen, who was toddling about in the grass near by. The child stumbled, laughed, lay there a moment chattering to herself, then got up, only to trip on her skirt and tumble headlong again. Her prattling laughter rang on the evening air. Now and then the voice of the mother would mingle with it, warning the child not to stray too far.

Store-Hans was the first to get through with his task; he stood around awhile, but, finding nothing more to do, he strolled off westward. He was itching to know how far it was to the hill out there; it would be great fun to see what things looked like on the other side!... Now he started off in that direction. Perhaps he might come across the others? They surely must be somewhere. Just think, if he could only find them! He would yell and rush in on them like an Indian—and then they would be scared out of their senses!... He had gone quite far before he paused to look back. When he did so the sight sent a shiver over him; the wagons had shrunk to two small specks, away off on the floor of a huge, dusky room.... I’d better hurry at once, he thought; mother will surely have the porridge ready by this time! His legs had already adopted the idea of their own accord. But thoughts of his mother and the porridge didn’t quite bring him all the feeling of safety he needed; he hunted through his mind for a few strains of a hymn, and sang them over and over in a high-pitched, breaking voice, until he had no more breath left to sing with.... He didn’t feel entirely safe until the wagons had begun to assume their natural size once more.

The mother called to them that supper was ready. On the blanket stood two dishes of porridge—a large dish for the father and the two boys, a smaller one for the mother and And-Ongen. The evening milk was divided between two bowls, and set before them; Rosie, poor thing, was not giving much these days! The father said that he didn’t care for milk this evening, either; it had a tangy taste, he thought; and he drank water with his porridge. But when Ole also began to complain of the tangy taste and asked for water, the father grew stern and ordered him to go ahead and get that drop of milk down as quick as he could! There was nothing else on the table but milk and porridge.

Suddenly Ole and Store-Hans flared up in a quarrel; one blamed the other for eating too close to the edge, where the porridge was coolest. The father paused in his meal, listening to them a moment, then chuckled to himself. Taking his spoon and cutting three lines through the crust of the porridge, he quickly settled the matter between them.

“There you are! Here, Store-Hans, is your land; now take it and be satisfied. Ola, who is the biggest, gets another forty.... Shut up your mouths, now, and eat!” Per Hansa himself got the smallest share that evening.

Aside from this outbreak it was quiet at the table. A spell of silence lay upon them and they were not able to throw it off.... As soon as the father had eaten he licked his spoon carefully, wiped it off on his shirt sleeve, and threw it on the blanket. The boys did likewise as they finished; but And-Ongen wanted to tuck her spoon in her dress and keep it there till morning.

They sat around in the same silence after they were done. Then she who was the smallest of them repeated in a tiny voice:

“Thanks to Thee, Our Lord and Maker....

“Now I want to go to sleep in your lap!” she said, after the Amen. She climbed up into her mother’s lap and threw her arms around her neck.

“Oh, how quickly it grows dark out here!” the mother murmured.

Per Hansa gave a care-free shrug of his shoulders. “Well,” he said, dryly, “the sooner the day’s over, the sooner the next day comes!”

But now something seemed to be brewing back there over the prairie whence they had come. Up from the horizon swelled a supernatural light—a glow of pale yellow and transparent green, mingled with strange touches of red and gold. It spread upward as they watched; the colors deepened; the glow grew stronger, like the witching light of a fen fire.

All sat silently gazing. It was And-Ongen, hanging around her mother’s neck, who first found her voice.

“Oh, look!... She is coming up again!”

In solemn grandeur the moon swung up above the plain. She had been with them many nights now; but each time she seemed as wonderful a sight as ever. To-night a hush fell on their spirits as they watched her rise—just as the scene had hushed them the evening before, far away to the eastward somewhere on the plain. The silvery beams grew stronger; the first pale fen fire began to shimmer and spread; slowly the light mellowed into a mist of green and yellow and blue. And-Ongen exclaimed that the moon was much bigger to-night; but it had seemed bigger the night before also. Store-Hans again solemnly told her the reason for it—that the moon had to grow, just as she did! This seemed to her quite logical; she turned to her mother and asked whether the moon had milk and porridge every evening, too.

Per Hansa had been sitting on the tongue of the wagon, smoking his pipe. Now he got up, knocked out the ashes carefully, put his pipe in his pocket, and wound up his watch. These duties done, he gave the order to turn in for the night.

A little while later they all lay under the quilts, gazing off into the opalescent glow. When the mother thought that the children had gone to sleep she asked, soberly:

“Do you suppose we’ll ever find the others again?”

“Oh yes—I’m sure of it ... if they haven’t sunk through the ground!”

This was all Per Hansa said. He yawned once or twice, long and heavily, as if he were very sleepy, and turned away from her.

... After that she said no more, either.

IV

Truth to tell, Per Hansa was not a bit sleepy. For a long while he lay wide awake, staring into the night. Although the evening had grown cool, sweat started out on his body from time to time, as thoughts which he could not banish persisted in his mind.

He had good reason to sweat, at all the things he was forced to lie there and remember. Nor was it only to-night that these heavy thoughts came to trouble him; it had been just the same all through the day, and last night, too, and the night before. And now, the moment he had lain down, they had seized upon him with renewed strength; he recalled keenly all the scruples and misgivings that had obsessed his wife before they had started out on this long journey—both those which had been spoken and those which had been left unsaid. The latter had been the worst; they had seemed to grow deeper and more tragic as he had kept prying into them in his clumsy way.... But she wasn’t a bit stupid, that wife of his! As a matter of fact, she had more sense than most people. Indeed she had!

... No, it wasn’t a pleasant situation for Per Hansa, by any means. He had not seen a happy moment, day or night, since the mishap had struck them on the second afternoon this side of Jackson. There the first wagon had got stuck in a mud hole; in pulling it out they had wrecked it so hopelessly that he had been forced to put back to Jackson for repairs. Under the circumstances, it had seemed to him utterly senseless to hold up all the rest of the company four days. He simply wouldn’t listen to their waiting for him; for they had houses to build and fields to break, if they were to get anything into the ground this season. They must go on without him; he’d come along all right, in his own good time.... So they had given him full instructions about the course he was to follow and the halting places where he was to stop for the night; it had all seemed so simple to him at the time. Then they had started on together—Tönseten, who knew the way, and Hans Olsa, and the two Solum boys. They all had horses and strong new wagons. They travelled fast, those fellows!...

If he only had paid some attention to Hans Olsa, who for a long while had insisted on waiting for him. But he had overruled all their objections; it was entirely his own doing that Hans Olsa and the others had gone on, leaving him behind.

But he soon had learned that it wasn’t so easy. Hadn’t he lost his way altogether the other day, in the midst of a fog and drizzling rain? Until late in the afternoon that day he hadn’t had the faintest idea what direction he was taking. It had been after this experience that he had formed the habit of keeping so far ahead of the caravan. He simply couldn’t endure listening to her constant questions—questions which he found himself unable to answer....

The only thing he felt sure of was that he wasn’t on the right track; otherwise he would have come across the traces of their camps. It was getting to be a matter of life and death to him to find the trail—and find it soon.... A devil of a jaunt it would be to the Pacific Ocean—the wagon would never hold out that long!... Oh yes, he realized it all too well—a matter of life and death. There weren’t many supplies left in the wagon. He had depended on his old comrade and Lofot-man,2 Hans Olsa, for everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

V

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

... “What in the devil...!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

In growing apprehension, he hurried on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

II. Home-founding

I

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No—nothing at all!”

“Can you imagine what has become of them?”

“The Lord forgive us—if I only knew!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course it is!” cried his wife, excitedly.... “Thank God!”

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

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

Tönseten coughed, and gave the woman a sly wink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, both, Syvert. I won’t refuse!”

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

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

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

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

By this time they were all laughing together.

In the midst of the jollification came Sörine, carrying a plate with a large bottle and a dram glass5 on it.... “Here, take this off my hands, Hans Olsa—you will know what to do with it!”

Tönseten fairly bubbled over in his admiration for her:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

III

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone got up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mother got up hastily.

“Where are you finding these things?”

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

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

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

The evening dusk had now almost deepened into night. It seemed to gather all its strength around her, to close in on every side, to have its centre in the spot where she stood. The wagons had become only a dim speck in the darkness, far, far away; the tent at Hans Olsa’s looked like a tuft of grass that had whitened at the top; Tönseten’s sod house she was unable to make out at all.... She could not bring herself to call aloud to the boys; instead, she walked around the hollow, spoke to them softly, and said that it was time to go home.... No, no, they mustn’t take the stones with them to-night! But to-morrow they might come up here again to play.

... Beret could not go to sleep for a long time that night. At last she grew thoroughly angry with herself; her nerves were taut as bowstrings; her head kept rising up from the pillow to listen—but there was nothing to hear ... nothing except the night wind, which now had begun to stir.

... It stirred with so many unknown things!...

V

Per Hansa came home late the following afternoon; he had so many words of praise for what she and the boys had accomplished while he had been gone, that he fairly bewildered her. Now it had taken possession of him again—that indomitable, conquering mood which seemed to give him the right of way wherever he went, whatever he did. Outwardly, at such times, he showed only a buoyant recklessness, as if wrapped in a cloak of gay, wanton levity; but down beneath all this lay a stern determination of purpose, a driving force, so strong that she shrank back from the least contact with it.

To-day he was talking in a steady stream.

“Here is the deed to our kingdom, Beret-girl! See to it that you take good care of the papers.... Isn’t it stranger than a fairy tale, that a man can have such things here, just for the taking?... Yes—and years after he won the princess, too!” He cocked his head on one side. “I’ll tell you what, it seems so impossible and unheard of, that I can’t quite swallow it all yet.... What do you say, my Beret-girl?”

Beret stood smiling at him, with tears in her eyes, beside the improvised house that she had made; there was little for her to say. And what would be the use of speaking now? He was so completely wrapped up in his own plans that he would not listen nor understand. It would be wrong, too, to trouble him with her fears and misgivings.... When he felt like this he was so tender to her, so cheerful, so loving and kind.... How well she knew Per Hansa!...

“What are you thinking about it all, my Beret-girl?” He flung his arm around her, whirled her off her feet, and drew her toward him.

“Oh, Per, it’s only this—I’m so afraid out here!” She snuggled up against him, as if trying to hide herself. “It’s all so big and open ... so empty.... Oh, Per! Not another human being from here to the end of the world!”

Per Hansa laughed loud and long, so that she winced under the force and meaning of it. “There’ll soon be more people, girl ... never you fear.... By God! there’ll soon be more people here!”

But suddenly another idea took hold of him. He led her over to the large chest, made her sit down, and stood in front of her with a swaggering air:

“Now let me tell you what came into my mind yesterday, after I had got the papers. I went right out and bought ten sacks of potatoes! I felt so good, Beret—and you know how we men from Nordland like potatoes!” he added with a laugh. “This is the point of it: we’re not going to start right in with building a house. The others are just foolish to do it.” His voice grew low and eager. “They’re beginning at the wrong end, you see. For my part, I’m going over to Hans Olsa’s this very night and borrow his plow—and to-morrow morning I shall start breaking my ground! Yes, sir! I tell you those potatoes have got to go into the ground at once. Do you hear me, Beret-girl? If the soil out here is half as good as it’s cracked up to be, we’ll have a fine crop the very first fall!... Then I can build later in the summer, you know, when I am able to take my time about it.... Just wait, my girl, just wait. It’s going to be wonderful; you’ll see how wonderful I can make it for you, this kingdom of ours!” He laughed until his eyes were drawn out in two narrow slits. “And no old worn-out, thin-shanked, pot-bellied king is going to come around and tell me what I have to do about it, either!”

He explained to her at great length how he intended to arrange everything and how success would crown his efforts, she sitting there silently on the chest, he standing in front of her, waving his arms; while about them descended the grandeur of the evening. But with all his strength and enthusiasm, and with all her love, he didn’t succeed in winning her heart over altogether—no, not altogether. She had heard with her own ears how no bird sang out here; she had seen with her own eyes how, day after day as they journeyed, they had left the abodes of men farther and farther behind. Wasn’t she sitting here now, gazing off into an endless blue-green solitude that had neither heart nor soul?...

“Do you know,” she said, quietly, as she got up once more and leaned close against him, “I believe there is a grave over there on the hill?”

“Why, Beret! Did you find it? Have you been going around brooding over that, too?... Don’t worry, girl. He’ll bring us nothing but good luck, the fellow who lies up there.”

“Perhaps.... But it seems so strange that some one lies buried in unconsecrated ground right at our very door. How quiet it must be there!... The children found so many things to play with, while we were up on the hill last night, that I let them go again to-night. Come, we had better begin to look for them.... It is beautiful up there.” She sighed, and moved away.

They climbed the hill together, holding each other’s hands. There was something in that sad resignation of hers which he was powerless against. As he walked beside her and held her hand, he felt as if he could laugh and cry in the same breath.... She was so dear, so dear to him. Why could he never make her understand it fully? It was a strange, baffling thing! But perhaps the reason for it lay in this: she was not built to wrestle with fortune—she was too fine-grained.... Oh, well—he knew one person, at any rate, who stood ready to do the fighting for her!

Per Hansa had so much to think about that night that a long time passed before he could get to sleep. Now was a good chance to make his plans, while Beret lay at his side, sleeping safe and sound; he must utilize every moment now; he didn’t feel very tired, either.

There seemed to be no end to the things he needed. But thirty dollars was all the money he had in the world; and when he thought of what would have to be bought in the near future, and of everything that waited to be done, the list grew as long as the distance they had travelled.... First of all, house and barn; that would need doors and windows. Then food and tobacco; shoes and clothing; and implements—yes, farming implements! If he only had horses and the necessary implements, the whole quarter-section would soon blossom like a garden.... The horses he would have to do without, to begin with. But he ought to get at least one more cow before fall came—no dodging that fact.... And pigs—he absolutely had to have some pigs for winter!... If the potatoes turned out well, there would be plenty to feed them on.... Then he would buy some chickens, as soon as he could run across any folks who had chickens to sell. Things like that would only be pleasant diversions for Beret.... There certainly seemed to be no end to all that he needed.

... But now came the main hitch in his calculations: Beret was going to have a baby again.... Only a blessing, of course—but what a lot of their time it would take up, just now!... Oh, well, she would have to bear the brunt of it herself, as the woman usually did. A remarkably brave and clever wife, that she was ... a woman of tender kindness, of deep, fine fancies—one whom you could not treat like an ordinary clod.

... How hard he would strive to make life pleasant for her out here! Her image dominated all the visions which now seemed to come to him of their own accord.... The Whole farm lay there before him, broken and under cultivation, yielding its fruitful harvests; there ran many horses and cows, both young and grown. And over on the location where to-day he was about to build the sod hut should stand a large dwelling ... a white house, it would be! Then it would gleam so beautifully in the sun, white all over—but the cornices should be bright green!...

When, long ago, Per Hansa had had his first vision of the house, it had been painted white, with green cornices; and these colours had belonged to it in his mind ever since. But the stable, the barn, and all the rest of the outhouses should be painted red, with white cornices—for that gave such a fine effect!... Oh yes, that Beret-girl of his should certainly have a royal mansion for herself and her little princess!...

VI

As Per Hansa lay there dreaming of the future it seemed to him that hidden springs of energy, hitherto unsuspected even by himself, were welling up in his heart. He felt as if his strength were inexhaustible. And so he commenced his labours with a fourteen-hour day; but soon, as the plans grew clearer, he began to realize how little could be accomplished in that short span of time, with so much work always ahead of him; he accordingly lengthened the day to sixteen hours, and threw in another hour for good measure; at last he found himself wondering if a man couldn’t get along with only five hours of rest, in this fine summer weather.

His waking dreams passed unconsciously into those of sleep; all that night a pleasant buoyancy seemed to be lifting him up and carrying him along; at dawn, when he opened his eyelids, morning was there to greet him—the morning of a glorious new day.... He saw that it was already broad daylight; with a guilty start, he came wide awake. Heavens! he might have overslept himself—on this morning!... He jumped into his clothes, and found some cold porridge to quiet his hunger for the time being; then he hurried out, put the yoke on the oxen, and went across to Hans Olsa’s to fetch the plow.... Over there no life was stirring yet. Well, maybe they could afford to sleep late in the morning; but he had arrived five days behind the others, and had just been delayed for two days more; they had a big start over him already. His heart sang as he thought how he would have to hurry!... He led the oxen carefully, trying to make as little noise around the tent as possible.

Dragging the plow, he drove out for some distance toward the hillock, then stopped and looked around. This was as good a place as anywhere to start breaking.... He straightened up the plow, planted the share firmly in the ground, and spoke to the oxen: “Come now, move along, you lazy rascals!” He had meant to speak gruffly, but the thrill of joy that surged over him as he sank the plow in his own land for the first time, threw such an unexpected tone of gentleness into his voice that the oxen paid no attention to it; he found that he would have to resort to more powerful encouragement; but even with the goad it was hard to make them bend to the yoke so early in the morning. After a little, however, they began to stretch their muscles. Then they were off; the plow moved ... sank deeper ... the first furrow was breaking....

It would have gone much easier now if Ole had only been there to drive the oxen, so that he could have given his whole attention to the plow. But never mind that!... The boy ought to sleep for at least another hour; the day would be plenty long enough for him, before it was through.... Young bulls have tender sinews—though for one of his age, Ole was an exceptionally able youngster.

That first furrow turned out very crooked for Per Hansa; he made a long one of it, too. When he thought he had gone far enough and halted the oxen, the furrow came winding up behind him like a snake. He turned around, drove the oxen back in the opposite direction, and laid another furrow up against the one he had already struck.... At the starting point again, he surveyed his work ruefully. Well, the second furrow wasn’t any crookeder than the first, at all events!... When he had made another round he let the oxen stand awhile; taking the spade which he had brought out, he began to cut the sod on one side of the breaking into strips that could be handled. This was to be his building material.... Field for planting on the one hand, sods for a house on the other—that was the way to plow!... Leave it to Per Hansa—he was the fellow to have everything figured out beforehand!

By breakfast time he had made a fine start. No sooner had he swallowed the last morsel than he ordered both the boys to turn to, hitched the oxen to the old homemade wagon, and off they all went together toward the field, Per Hansa leading the way.... “You’d better cook the kettles full to-day!” he shouted back, as they were leaving. “We’re going to punish a lot of food when we come in!”