"The people are the worst," said Ole, who had to give in about the wild beasts; "they are such dreadful heathens, and cruel and ugly and wicked into the bargain. So it will not be so easy to manage them. One must have practice."
"But how can you get practice in that sort of thing here? They are not heathens down in the fishing village?"
"No, but they can teach one how to bear a little of everything; there is no use complaining down there, but just be ready to do all sorts of hard work. They are often so suspicious when they are ill and fretful, and some of them are downright brutes. Just fancy, one evening one of them was going to hit me."
"Hit you?"
"I prayed to God that she would, but she only cursed and swore." Ole's eyes glistened, his whole face was beaming. "In one of the tracts I have in my box it says that that is the mistake of our missionaries, they go out to their work without having any practice or experience. And it says, too, that the art of winning people is a very difficult one, but hardest of all it is to win them for the kingdom of God, and that we ought to strive to do it from our childhood upward; that is what the book says, and I mean to do it. For to be a missionary is higher and greater than anything upon earth; greater than to be king, greater than to be emperor or pope. That is all in the tract, and this, too, that a missionary said: 'If I had ten lives, I would give them all to the mission.' And I mean to do the same."
They were walking side by side; unconsciously Ole had turned to the stars as they began to twinkle, and they both stood still awhile gazing into space. Beneath them lay the harbour with its dimly outlined ships, the silent, empty wharfs, and the scattered lights from the town; beyond was the shore, gray with snow and the dark sea-waves rolling up; they could hear the sound again, faintly in the distance, the monotony of the roar seemed in keeping with the star-spangled twilight. An invisible wave of sympathy passed between the lads, and seemed to link them together. There was no one Ole was so anxious should think well of him as his friend here with his jaunty fur cap; while Edward was thinking all the time how much better Ole was than he; for he knew quite well that he was far from good, and indeed he was told of it every day. He glanced sideways at the peasant boy. The peaked cap was pulled down over his ears, the big gloves, the thick scarf, the coarse cloth jacket, and trousers hanging loosely on him; the heavy, iron-bound boots--a curious figure--but his eyes alone made up for it all. And then the innocent, trusting expression, though it was rather an old-fashioned face.... Ole would decidedly be a great man some day.
They trotted on again, Edward in front, Ole after him, down toward the "hill-town," as that part was called which lay nearest the hill-side, and which consisted chiefly of workmen's houses, a few workshops, and some smaller factories. As yet the streets were neither properly paved nor lighted, and now the muddy snow was stiffening into ice as night came on. The lanterns, few and far between, hung in the middle of the streets, on ropes stretched across from opposite houses; they were made to be hoisted up and down. They had been badly cleaned and burned dimly. Here and there one of the small workshops had its own private lantern, which was hung up outside on the steps. Edward stopped again under one of these; he felt he must ask more questions. He wanted to know more particularly who it was Ole went to see among the fisher people--whether it was anyone they both knew.
Ole boldly put down his box on the steps, and stood there resting his hand on it; he smiled. "Do you know Martha from the docks?" The whole town knew her; she was a clever woman, but much given to drink, and on Saturday evenings the school-boys always had great fun with her, when she stood leaning up against a wall, abusing them roundly with gestures not of the most refined, in fact, quite unmentionable. This, however, was just what the boys were waiting for, and was invariably received with shouts of delight.
"What! Dock Martha?" shrieked Edward. "Do you suppose you can convert her?"
"Hush! hush! For goodness' sake, not so loud," implored Ole, reddening and looking anxiously round.