Chapter Four.
Roving here and Roving there.
The establishment was now in a great hurry and bustle for an hour, after which time it promised to be unusually quiet.
M. Kollsen began to be anxious to be on the other side of the fiord. It was rather inconvenient, as the two men were wanted to go in different directions, while their master took a third, to rouse the farmers for the bear-hunt. The hunters were all to arrive before night within a certain distance of the thickets where the bears were now believed to be. On calm nights it was no great hardship to spend the dark hours in the bivouac of the country. Each party was to shelter itself under a bank of snow, or in a pit dug out of it, an enormous fire blazing in the midst, and brandy and tobacco being plentifully distributed on such occasions. Early in the morning the director of the hunt was to go his rounds, and arrange the hunters in a ring enclosing the hiding-place of the bears, so that all might be prepared, and no waste made of the few hours of daylight which the season afforded. As soon as it was light enough to see distinctly among the trees, or bushes, or holes of the rocks where the bears might be couched, they were to be driven from their retreat, and disposed of as quickly as possible. Such was the plan, well understood, in such cases throughout the country. On the present occasion it might be expected that the peasantry would be ready at the first summons, as Olaf had told his story of the bears all along the road. Yet, the more messengers and helpers the better; and Erlingsen was rather vexed to see Hund go with alacrity to unmoor the boat, and offer officiously to row the pastor across the fiord. His daughters knew what he was thinking about, and after a moment’s consultation, Frolich asked whether she and the maid Stiorna might not be the rowers.
Nobody would have objected if Hund had not. The girls could row, though they could not hunt bears; and the weather was fair enough; but Hund shook his head, and went on preparing the boat. His master spoke to him, but Hund was not remarkable for giving up his own way. He would only say that there would be plenty of time for both affairs, and that he could follow the hunt when he returned, and across the lake he went.
Erlingsen and Rolf presently departed, accompanied by Olaf, who was glad of an escort for a few miles, though nothing was further from his intention than going near the bears. The women and Peder were thus left behind.
They occupied themselves to keep away anxious thoughts. One began some new nets, for the approaching fishing season; another sat in the loom, and the girls appealed to their mother very frequently, about the beauties of a new quilting pattern they were drawing. Old Peder sang to them too; but Peder’s songs were rather melancholy, and they had not the effect of cheering the party. Hour after hour they looked for Hund. His news of his voyage, and the sending him after his master, would be something to do and to think of; but Hund did not come. Stiorna at last let fall that she did not think he would come yet, for that he meant to catch some cod before his return; he had taken tackle with him for that purpose, she knew, and she should not wonder if he did not appear till the morning.
Every one was surprised, and Madame Erlingsen highly displeased. At the time when her husband would be wanting every strong arm that could be mustered, his servant chose to be out fishing, instead of obeying orders. The girls pronounced him a coward, and Peder observed that to a coward, as well as a sluggard, there was ever a lion in the path. Erica doubted whether this act of disobedience arose from cowardice, for there were dangers in the fiord, for such as went out as far as the cod. She supposed Hund had heard—
She stopped short, as a sudden flash of suspicion crossed her mind. She had seen Hund inquiring of Olaf about the pirates, and his strange obstinacy about this day’s boating looked much as if he meant to learn more.
“Danger in the fiord!” repeated Orga. “O, you mean the pirates; they are far enough from our fiord, I suppose. If ever they do come, I wish they would catch Hund, and carry him off. I am sure we could spare them nothing they would be so welcome to.”
Madame Erlingsen saw that Erica was turning red and white, and resolved to ask, on the first good opportunity, what was in her mind about Hund, for no one was more disposed to distrust and watch him than the lady herself.
The first piece of amusement that occurred was the return of Oddo, who passed the windows, followed at a short distance by a wistful-looking deer, which seemed afraid to come quite up to him, but kept its branched head outstretched towards the salt which Oddo displayed, dropping a few grains from time to time. At the sight all crowded to the windows but Frolich, who left the room on the instant. Before the animal had passed the servants’ house (a separate dwelling in the yard), she appeared in the gallery which ran round the outside of it, and showed to Oddo a cord which she held; he nodded, and threw down some salt on the snow immediately below where she stood. The reindeer stooped its head, instead of looking out for enemies above, and thus gave Frolich a good opportunity to throw her cord over its antlers. She had previously wound one end round the balustrade of the gallery, so that she had not with her single strength to sustain the animal’s struggles.
The poor animal struggled violently when it found its head no longer at liberty, and, by throwing out its legs, gave Oddo an opportunity to catch and fasten it by the hind leg, so as to decide its fate completely. It could now only start from side to side, and threaten with its head when the household gathered round to congratulate Oddo and Frolich on the success of their hunting. The women durst only hastily stroke the palpitating sides of the poor beast; but, Peder, who had handled many scores in his lifetime, boldly seized its head, and felt its horns and the bones from whence they grew, to ascertain its age.
“Do you fancy you have made a prize of a wild deer, boy?” he asked of his grandson.
“To be sure,” said Oddo.
“I thought you had had more curiosity than to take such a thing for granted, Oddo. See here! Is not this ear slit?”
“Why, yes,” Oddo admitted; “but it is not a slit of this year or last. It may have belonged to the Lapps once upon a time; but it has been wild for so long that it is all the same as if it had never been in a fold. It will never be claimed.”
“I am of your opinion there, boy. I wish you joy of your sport.”
“You may: for I doubt whether anybody will do better to-day. Hund will not, for one, if it is he who has gone out with the boat; and I think I cannot be mistaken in the handling of his oar.”
“Have you seen him? Where? What is he doing?” asked one and another.
Before Oddo could answer, Madame Erlingsen desired that he would go home with his grandfather, and tell Ulla about the deer, while he warmed himself. She did not wish her daughters to hear what he might have to tell of Hund. Stiorna too was better out of the way. Oddo had not half told the story of the deer to his grandmother, when his mistress and Erica entered.
“Did you not see M. Kollsen in the boat with Hund?” she inquired.
“No. Hund was quite alone, pulling with all his might down the fiord. The tide was with him, so that he shot along like a fish.”
“How do you know that it was Hund you saw?”
“Don’t I know our boat? And don’t I know his pull? It is no more like Rolf’s than Rolf’s is like master’s.”
“Perhaps he was making for the best fishing-ground as fast as he could.”
“We shall see that by the fish he brings home.”
“True. By supper-time we shall know.”
“Hund will not be home by supper-time,” said Oddo, decidedly.
“Why not? Come, say out what you mean.”
“Well, I will tell you what I saw. I watched him rowing as fast as his arm and the tide would carry him. It was so plain that there was a plan in his head, that I forgot the deer in watching him; and I followed on from point to point, catching a sight now and then, till I had gone a good stretch beyond Salten heights. I was just going to turn back when I took one more look, and he was then pulling in for the land.”
“On the north shore or south?” asked Peder.
“The north—just at the narrow part of the fiord, where one can see into the holes of the rocks opposite.”
“The fiord takes a wide sweep below there,” observed Peder.
“Yes; and that was why he landed,” replied Oddo. “He was then but a little way from the fishing-ground, if he had wanted fish. But he drove up the boat into a little cove, a narrow dark creek, where it will lie safe enough, I have no doubt, till he comes back: if he means to come back.”
“Why, where should he go? What should he do but come back?” asked Madame Erlingsen.
“He is now gone over the ridge to the north. I saw him moor the boat, and begin to climb; and I watched his dark figure on the white snow, higher and higher, till it was a speck, and I could not make it out.”
“That is the way you will lose your eyes,” exclaimed Ulla. “How often have I warned you,—and many others as giddy as you! When you have lost your eyes, you will think you had better have minded my advice, and not have stared at the snow after a runaway that is better there than here.”
“What do you think of this story, Peder?” asked his mistress.
“I think Hund has taken the short cut over the promontory, on business of his own at the islands. He is not on any business of yours, depend upon it, madam.”
“And what business can he have among the islands?”
“I could say that with more certainty if I knew exactly where the pirate-vessel is.”
“That is your idea, Erica,” said her mistress. “I saw what your thoughts were, an hour ago, before we knew all this.”
“I was thinking then, madam, that if Hund was gone to join the pirates, Nipen would be very ready to give them a wind just now. A baffling wind would be our only defence; and we cannot expect that much from Nipen to-day.”
“I will do anything in the world,” cried Oddo, eagerly. “Send me anywhere. Do think of something that I can do.”
“What must be done, Peder?” asked his mistress. “There is quite enough to fear, Erica, without a word of Nipen. Pirates on the coast, and one farm-house seen burning already!”
“I will tell you what you must let me do, madam,” said Erica. “Indeed you must not oppose me. My mind is quite set upon going for the boat,—immediately—this very minute. That will give us time—it will give us safety for this night. Hund might bring seven or eight men upon us over the promontory: but if they find no boat, I think they can hardly work up the windings of the fiord in their own vessel to-night;—unless, indeed,” she added, with a sigh, “they have a most favourable wind.”
“All this is true enough,” said her mistress; “but how will you go? Will you swim?”
“The raft, madam.”
“And there is the old skiff on Thor islet,” said Oddo. “It is a rickety little thing, hardly big enough for two; but it will carry down Erica and me, if we go before the tide turns.”
“But how will you get to Thor islet?” inquired Madame Erlingsen. “I wish the scheme were not such a wild one.”
“A wild one must serve at such a time, madam,” replied Erica. “Rolf had lashed several logs before he went. I am sure we can get over to the islet. See, madam, the fiord is as smooth as a pond.”
“Let her go,” said Peder. “She will never repent.”
“Then come back, I charge you, if you find the least danger,” said her mistress. “No one is safer at the oar than you; but if there is a ripple in the water, or a gust on the heights, or a cloud in the sky, come back. Such is my command, Erica.”
“Wife,” said Peder, “give her your pelisse; that will save her seeing the girls before she goes. And she shall have my cap, and then there is not an eye along the fiord that can tell whether she is man or woman.”
Ulla lent her deerskin pelisse willingly enough; but she entreated that Oddo might be kept at home. She folded her arms about the boy with tears; but Peder decided the matter with the words, “Let him go; it is the least he can do to make up for last night. Equip, Oddo.”
Oddo equipped willingly enough. In two minutes he and his companion looked like two walking bundles of fur. Oddo carried a frail-basket, containing rye-bread, salt-fish, and a flask of corn-brandy; for in Norway no one goes on the shortest expedition without carrying provisions.
“Surely it must be dusk by this time,” said Peder.
It was dusk; and this was well, as the pair could steal down to the shore without being perceived from the house. Madame Erlingsen gave them her blessing, saying that if the enterprise saved them from nothing worse than Hund’s company this night, it would be a great good. There could be no more comfort in having Hund for an inmate; for some improper secret he certainly had. Her hope was that, finding the boat gone, he would never show himself again.
“One would think,” continued the lady, when she returned from watching Erica and Oddo disappear in the dusk—“one would think Erica had never known fear. Her step is as firm and her eye as clear as if she had never trembled in the course of her life.”
“She knows how to act to-night,” said Peder; “and she is going into danger for her lover, instead of waiting at home while her lover goes into danger for her. A hundred pirates in the fiord would not make her tremble as she trembled last night. Rather a hundred pirates than Nipen angry, she would say.”
“There is her weakness,” observed her mistress.
“Can we speak of weakness after what we have just seen—if I may say so, madam?”
“I think so,” replied Madame Erlingsen. “I think it a weakness in those who believe that a just and tender Providence watches over us all, to fear what any power in the universe can do to them.”
“M. Kollsen does not make progress in teaching the people what you say, madam. He only gets distrusted by it.”
“When M. Kollsen has had more experience, he will find that this is not a matter for displeasure. He will not succeed while he is displeased at what his people think sacred. When he is an older man, he will pity the innocent for what they suffer from superstition; and this pity will teach him how to speak of Providence to such as our Erica. But here are my girls coming to seek me. I must meet them, to prevent their missing Erica.”
“Get them to rest early, madam.”
“Certainly; and you will watch in this house, Peder, and I at home.”
“Trust me for hearing the oar at a furlong off, madam.”
“That is more than I can promise,” said the lady; “but the owl shall not be more awake than I.”