Now the Dean had to smile. “You’re irrepressible, Bengt. You will not have to listen to any speech. Here is your medal. May you wear it with health and honour for many years to come.”
So saying, the Dean went up to the bedside and laid the medal on the bosom of the old man’s Sunday shirt.
Later, at dinner, the Dean seemed a bit abstracted. “This is the first time in my life I have ever lost myself,” he confessed, “but in this world one must have all sorts of experiences.”
[II
THE MONEY-CHEST]
BENGT, for his part, was perfectly satisfied with the Dean’s speech. Those words about his having been a good and faithful servant, the medal, the august presence of His Reverence in the servants’ hall, and the whole demonstration in his honour, had had the salutary effect of dispelling the ache in his joints and the shooting pains in his back. In the afternoon the old man sat up in bed and related, again and again, to all who would listen, how he had once rescued the money-chest for the Paymaster of the Regiment.
It happened one winter when he and the master were out tax-gathering. They had covered all the eastern districts, and before starting on the western, the Paymaster wanted to go home for a while, as he longed for a sight of his wife and little ones. But that of course he did not mention to Bengt. His excuse was that the horse must be rested a couple of days and the food-box, being empty, needed replenishing. Besides, the money-chest was now so full he thought they’d best drive no further until it had been emptied and the money sent on to Karlstad.
The day they turned their noses toward home there was a big blizzard. The roads were so deep with snow they had to drive at a snail’s pace. When they were crossing Klarälven on the ice it was already dusk. Shortly afterward, on coming to Nordsjö Manor, the Paymaster spoke of turning in there to ask for a night’s shelter. However, he was anxious to get home, and as they were then within thirteen miles of Mårbacka, he and Bengt decided to drive on. Even though it meant being out in the sledge until ten or eleven at night, sleeping in one’s own bed was best.
Coming into the dense forest between Nordsjö and Sandviken, they found the road impassable. The sledge went so heavily the horse had to stop at every step, and neither urging nor coaxing could put life into him.
“This is provoking, Bengt,” said the Paymaster. “But isn’t there a little forest croft somewhere hereabout?”