“But what are you going to do with them all?” Vinzi inquired, still puzzled.
“I’ll keep them and then I’ll trade them again for something better. You see the pipes are only common wood, after all,” Russli said confidentially.
Vinzi had to laugh.
“You must become a tradesman, Russli, for you seem to understand all about it. But you won’t have anything more to do now, since our bargain is off.”
“Oh yes, I’ll have just as much work as ever. I first uncover my hole every morning, dig away the earth and count everything to see if anything has been stolen in the night. Then I have to pack and cover them up and put on the moss in such a way that no one can find the place. In the afternoon I have to sit on the lookout so that no one finds my cave and takes my things.”
Vinzi could not comprehend these watchful exertions on behalf of such treasure, for he totally lacked the tradesman’s spirit. He was glad, however, that this new activity kept the little fellow busy. He was convinced that he would leave the cows in peace now, even without his usual reward.
The month of August had passed and the first fog was drifting over the mountains. Several times messages had been brought up from Leuk to say that the time was drawing near for Vinzi to come home. The boy’s parents felt that they had taken advantage of their relatives’ kindness long enough and they begged their cousin to take the next opportunity of sending the boy home with someone. Word had always been sent back to Leuk to the effect that the summer was not over and that no one wanted to let Vinzi go. Furthermore he was so well and happy that the parents might let him prolong his stay on the mountain. Father Lorenz was just entering the room where his wife was preparing the evening meal with her accustomed calm. He sat down on a chair, for no special work had to be done till the boys returned with the cattle and after a moment’s thought, said, “Have you noticed how much Vinzi has changed lately?”
“In what way?” asked his wife.
“He seems suddenly to have grown a whole year or two older,” said Lorenz, “ever since he began to spend most of his time with Pater Silvanus. I notice it in the way he plays his pipe and the way he sings and talks. It is as if the boy had been transplanted from the shadow into the sunshine. Everything in him seems to have blossomed out suddenly.”
“I don’t quite understand what you mean,” replied the woman, “but I always said that Vinzi looks as fresh and neat as a young appletree in bloom. And I say another thing besides. If Vinzi were a beggar-boy, I’d adopt him right away and I’d love him just as much as my own boys. I can say that and I’ll stick to it.”