It was yet early in the morning, a short time before sunrise. But fortunately the storm had ceased, the sky was clear, and the winter stars twinkled brightly in the blue firmament. The cold had increased, and a sharp frost had covered all the branches and snowdrifts with those ice diamonds, which at once dazzle and charm the wanderer's eye. The sight of woods and snow on a starry winter morning gives the Northerner a peculiar exhilarating feeling. There is in this scene a grandeur, a splendour, a purity, a freshness, which carries him back to the impressions of his childhood and the brilliant illusions of youth. There is nothing to cramp the heart, or paralyze the soaring imagination; all is there so vast, so solemn, so free. One might say that nature in this deep silence of winter and night is dead, and yet she lives, warm and rich, in the wanderer's heart.
It is as if she had in this little spot, this solitary place in the wilderness, compressed all her throbbing life, only to let it exist all the more beautifully in the midst of silence, stillness, and the radiance of the stars.
Bertel also experienced this feeling of freshness and life. He was still young and open to every impression. As he hastened along, light as the wind, between the trees and snow-drifts, he felt like a child. It seemed to him that he was again the boy who flew over the snow on Storkyro plains to spread his snares for the black-cock in the woods. It was true that he was a little unsteady in the beginning for lack of practice, and the snow-shoes slid merrily down the icy slopes; occasionally he made false pushes, and sometimes stumbled, but he soon regained his former skill, and stood firm on the uneven ground.
Now it was necessary to find the traces of the fugitives, and this was not easy. Bertel had wandered about for more than an hour in the direction of Ylihärmä, but had not discovered the slightest sign. The last outbreak of the storm had destroyed all indications; one could only see the fresh track of the wolf, where he had just trotted along, and now and then a frightened bird flew between the branches which were heavy with snow. Want of sleep, hunger, and fatigue, exhausted the young man's strength. The cold increased as sunrise approached, and covered his moustache and plumed hat with frost.
At last he saw on a wood-path, which the broad pines had shielded from the blast, fresh traces of runners and horses' feet. Bertel followed these with renewed energy; at times the tracks were lost in the snow, and then reappeared where the road was sheltered. The sun rose deep red in the south-east over the tops of the trees. The day was cold and clear. In every direction nothing was to be seen but trees and snow-drifts, but far away in the north a little column of smoke rose towards the morning sky. Bertel aimed at this point. The snow-shoes regained their speed, the road seemed smoother, and at last the weary adventurer reached a solitary farmhouse by the side of the high road.
The first person he encountered was Pekka, who was going to feed his horses.
"Scoundrel!" cried Bertel, with glad surprise, "who sent you here?"
"Who?" repeated Pekka, equally delighted and astonished. "Well, I shall tell you that the devil did it. I waited and waited outside that accursed old shanty in the woods until my eyes and feet became heavy together, where I sat in the snow-drift. After a little while I was aroused by the neighing of horses. And then I saw a sleigh just like ours harnessed to two horses, dashing away along the road. It is either my master or the devil. It is all the same to me. I will follow him, I said. Then I climbed up again on the horse's back. I was so hungry that it is a shame to speak of it; but I went after him. Finally the horse became tired and I lost sight of the sleigh; and thanked are both Lutheran and Catholic saints that I came here to the farm and got a good bowl of porridge. For was it not at Lützen and Nördlingen ... it is damned cold at Ylihärmä, that is sure."
"Good," said Bertel, "they shall not escape us. But do you know one thing, Pekka: there are moments when hunger and want of sleep are even stronger than love itself. Come, let us go in."
Bertel entered, and drank a bowl of boiled milk, and threw himself, overcome by fatigue, on a straw bed in the "stuga." Here we will leave our wandering knight for a couple of hours in peace.