Giants in the Earth

II | The Power of Evil in High Places

I

Per Hansa and the boys sat around the table, sifting the seed; the wheat lay spread in small heaps on the white cloth. This was important work and must be done with the greatest care; every little weed seed and other foreign substance had to be gleaned out. The seed must be clean, so the Trönders had cautioned Per Hansa; and now he was attending to it soberly, with infinite pains. If he found a shrunken or damaged kernel, he straightway threw it out—thank you, not that! The best only for new soil!... Full kernels will make the bin bulge.... “Be careful, boys! Be careful, there! Don’t shirk your job!”

It was wonderful to be sitting here playing with these plump, precious kernels; never before had Per Hansa been so absorbed in a task of this kind, yet it made him thoughtful, too.... Here, then, was the start! These few sacks of grain would not only supply him and his family with all the wheat flour they needed for a whole year, but would raise many bright dollars as well, a great store of riches.... And more than that, seed for the next year, seed again for the year after, and thus down through all the years to come.... And always greater and greater abundance of food for the poor, the world over.... Here he sat playing with the good fairies that had the power to create a new life over this Endless Wilderness, and transform it into a habitable land for human beings. Wasn’t it wonderful?

He began to think of the possibility of selling seed next year. No doubt there would be many new settlers by then, who would stand in need of such things. If he could only afford it, he would store the whole crop—seed wheat brought high prices.... Well, he would see; a good many things might happen as time went on!...

And here he held in his hand the very promise of all these wonders which were destined to take place! He recalled how the fairy tale started: “Once upon a time....” Not much of a beginning, yet the most startling events would unfold as the story went on—strange, incredible things.... Yes, he would have to take every precaution with the seed. His face grew sober at the thought; he spoke in a low tone to the boys, repeating the admonition for the hundredth time: “Boys, look out, now! Didn’t I just tell you to be careful!”... His wonder grew as he gazed at the kernels; there they lay, so inanimate, yet so plump and heavy, glowing with smouldering flame. It was as if each kernel had light within it—life now asleep. He thrust his hand into the sack and took out a handful of grain; it weighed like lead. As his grasp tightened, the kernels seemed to soften under the warmth of his hand; they squirmed and twisted, slipping against one another; they seemed to be charged with a delicate life that was seeking release. But when he opened his hand and stirred a finger among the grain, the kernels lay there as lifelessly as before—inert, yellowish pale, yet burning faintly with inner, golden light.... Reverently he lifted handful after handful from the table, and emptied it into the sack.

As the mild spring weather set in, a feverish restlessness seized him; the work on the seed was done and he could not stay indoors.... The chickens were laying finely now; he was finding as many as five eggs a day. They’d better begin setting the hens pretty soon; when fall came, they would have at least fifty fowl on the place!... Next minute he was over on the prairie, talking to and caressing the oxen, and feeling of their necks where the yoke would lie.... Now if the ground would only dry up! Per Hansa looked at it the first thing in the morning, and felt of it every night before he went to bed. To-day it had made fine progress. Good God—if the sun would only shine as warm to-morrow.... He dashed off to the neighbours, to see how the ground was coming on there. No, it was wetter than at his place, where the land lay higher.... I’ll bet my land is going to be the first to dry up! he told himself.

Beret hadn’t seen him in such good spirits since last spring. He walked so lightly; everything that had life he touched with a gentle hand, but talk to it he must; his voice sounded low, yet it thrilled with a vibrant energy; his eyes were drawn so narrow that they could hardly be seen. She felt a force that made her tremble, emanating from him; she tried to keep out of his way as much as she could.

And now the sun bore down on the prairie the whole livelong day. Bright and quivering in the forenoon, he swam through endless seas of blue; across the hazy afternoon he beamed caressingly; toward evening he opened wide his countenance; then the flood of light grew refulgent, only to die in splendour against a mysterious night which also had life.

As the fine weather continued, Per Hansa became more restless, but it only seemed to fill him with greater joy. Suddenly he would be up by the field. Wasn’t it dry enough yet?... He ought to have had the seeding all done by now; it was high time to begin breaking new ground.

On the 14th of April, the Sommermaalsdag of his old fatherland, Per Hansa began seeding the wheat. Three times that forenoon he had been out to test the ground; the last time he made his great decision: Now we will start!

No sooner had he finished the noon meal than he rushed out, grabbed the seed bag that he had made for this occasion, and carried two sacks of seed up to that portion of the field where the ground was driest. He had paced off the whole field into one-acre lots, and marked each plot. One and one-half bushels of seed to the acre was the regular measure; but Simon Baarstad had told him that on really first-class breaking, provided the soil was unusually excellent, one and one-quarter bushels might do; and Per Hansa had decided to try the latter amount.

He filled the seed bag, hung it over his shoulder, and was ready. His whole body shook. He paused for an instant and glanced about the settlement.... Yes, sir, he was the first, the very first one! There was Hans Olsa hauling manure to his garden patch.... That’s smart of you, Hans Olsa!... Down to the southward he caught sight of Tönseten pottering around his yard.... So much for you!... Then he turned to look in a northerly direction.... By God, if the Solum boys hadn’t already started breaking!... Muttering, “Well, well, well,” he strode over to the edge of the field and stuck his hand into the bag.

But just at that moment both boys appeared on the dead run; they had discovered what their father was up to, and wanted to watch the show.

“Go home!” shouted Per Hansa. “Go home! Do you hear me?”

“Why can’t we stand here and watch?” the boys remonstrated, their faces gloomy with disappointment.

“Go home this instant!... I don’t want you tramping around here, carrying off this precious seed on your shoes!”... He suddenly realized that it was very wrong of him to be so harsh with the boys in an hour like this. When he spoke again, his voice had grown kinder: “Sowing wheat is such a particular job—each kernel has to lie exactly the way it falls. Be good now, boys, and go straight home—and the first to wake up to-morrow morning shall start the dragging! I’ll see to it that one of you covers as much ground as the other—but the first to wake shall start!”... With this promise the boys had to be content; they went off homeward in a rebellious mood.

Again Per Hansa thrust his hand into the bag and his fingers closed on the grain. He felt profoundly that the greatest moment of his life had come. Now he was about to sow wheat on his own ground! His hand tightened in the bag; he was on the point of lifting it out, when something queer happened—the kernels were running out between his fingers! He gave another grab, closing his hand still tighter; again the yellow kernels slipped through his fingers like squirming eels. Then Per Hansa threw back his head and laughed. These fellows aren’t very anxious to go into the ground after riches for me!... He ran his hand around in the bag, stroking the grain caressingly, taking great handfuls and giving them a gentle squeeze.

... And now the wheat rained down in yellow semicircles from Per Hansa’s hand; as the seed fell, the warm rays of the sun struck full across it, and seemed to wrap it in golden light.... Per Hansa restrained himself, working slowly and carefully—the seeding must be even and not too thick. But almost at once he grew very heated; his body was dripping with sweat. He couldn’t explain this for a while; it wasn’t hard work at all. Oh, well, he thought at last—that’s always the way when you tackle a job you don’t understand!

Late in the afternoon Tönseten came running up the hill, so hard that his heels seemed to be flying over his head.

“What in hell are you starting here. Per Hansa?” he demanded, breathlessly.

“Can’t you see?” laughed Per Hansa; but he hardly dared to look at his neighbour, for fear he would lose his marks.

Tönseten stared at him in amazement. “You’re plumb crazy, man, and I don’t mind telling you so!... The ground isn’t half dry enough yet for that—the soil is too cold! Why, damn it all, there’s a foot of frost in the ground!... Much good it will do you to throw away all that seed!”... Into this last, Tönseten threw all the scorn of the man who really knows; in fact, he felt too seriously disturbed to utter another syllable; so, having done his duty and delivered his ominous message, he turned on his heel and stalked majestically away.

As long as the daylight lasted, Per Hansa kept on seeding.... After supper he sat at the table without moving; he didn’t want to get up; a pleasant feeling of languorous exhaustion had settled on him, the reaction from his excitement. And-Ongen crawled up into his lap and begged for a story, but got no response; the boys came storming in, demanding that he call them both at the same time to-morrow morning.... No, he said in a dreamy, abstracted voice, that wouldn’t do; there wasn’t any hurry; better let the sun have time to warm up the ground a bit before they covered the grain. But the bargain still held; the one who turned out first, yoked the oxen and hitched them to the drag, he was to start the dragging! “And now,” he added, rising from the table, “I’ll tell you this, boys—if we are any good at all, we’ll have the whole field seeded and dragged by the time the porridge is on the table to-morrow night!”

The next day Per Hansa worked like one possessed. Now that he had at last caught the trick with the seeding, he made fine progress. When evening fell that day he had finished his task, while the boys had done almost as well, with only the oats left to drag.... Per Hansa walked home that night in great satisfaction. Now he had turned a fine trick—he was through seeding and dragging before his neighbours had even thought of beginning the regular spring work!...

II

When Per Hansa left the house next morning to finish the dragging, the air was raw and heavy; a penetrating wind blew over the prairie, as if searching for signs of life to wither and blight; not a trace remained of the mildness and pleasantness of the previous days.

Before he had finished covering the oats, the rain began to fall; along with the rain came huge flakes of snow, floating silently down and turning to slush as they struck the ground. After a while the rain ceased, but the snow only came faster; the flakes were firmer now, and fell in a businesslike manner. Before long a veritable blizzard was raging over the whole prairie—there had hardly been anything worse that winter.

Throughout that day and the following night the storm continued with unabated fury. Early on the next morning the weather cleared; but now the cold was so intense that it nipped the skin as soon as one stuck one’s head out-of-doors. Spring seemed a thousand miles off.

That night Per Hansa did not sleep a wink. How could he sleep, with this tragedy going on? He was nothing but an old sailor; he didn’t know the least thing about farming. God Almighty! hadn’t he good reason to lie awake?... Here he had gone to work and wasted all his precious seed—had simply thrown it away, because he was foolish and hasty! And there wasn’t even a chance to extricate himself from the mess he had made! Out in the field, under the snow, lay all that priceless wheat, smothered to death and frozen as hard as flint.... He could stand the loss of the oats, perhaps—but, God! the wheat! Twenty-five bushels he had sacrificed, all the work gone to no purpose, and no possible way of getting a fresh supply of seed.... As he opened the door that morning, saw two feet of snow covering the ground, and felt the bitter cold stinging his face, he had an irresistible impulse to fling himself down in the snowdrift and cry like a baby!...

He turned around, came into the hut again, and lay down on the bed.... No, he didn’t want any breakfast! He shouted out the words. All the forenoon he lay silent and motionless. When noon came and he refused to eat any dinner, Beret went to the bed and asked him what was the matter. Did he feel sick? But he only turned his face to the wall, muttering hoarsely that those who felt like eating had better do so. Leave him alone; he’d be all right again—some time.... Beret began to feel concerned about him; after a while she brought him a bowl of soup, but he only sat up in bed and commenced to find fault with her like an unreasonable child.... For God’s sake, couldn’t she leave him alone? He had told her he didn’t want anything to eat, and wasn’t that enough?... Well, then... Oh, hell!...

In the afternoon the sun shone strong and brilliant, but the cold was too intense for it to make any impression on the snow.... Per Hansa was still lying in bed; the bright sunshine outside, reflecting on the white walls of the room, seemed to sear his eyeballs; he felt that the only thing that would give him relief would be to get up, strike out wildly, and curse everything around him—for he was fighting an unseen enemy.... He had come to his great decision; he had done the seeding; he had felt clearly that it was the most momentous day of his life; but no sooner had the last kernel fallen to the ground than the very powers of heaven had stepped down to defeat him!... Powers of heaven...?

A certain image came before his eyes, and would not go away. One Sunday not very long ago, Store-Hans had sat by the table reading to his mother; Per Hansa remembered it vividly, because the words had sounded so awful to him. At last he had gotten up to look over the boy’s shoulder; Store-Hans was reading in a loud voice, throwing great emphasis into the words:

“And the Lord said unto Satan, whence comest thou? Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it....”

The words would not go away. Per Hansa fell to repeating them.... And that night as he lay wide awake, tossing restlessly on the bed, he thought that he saw a beam just inside the door of the stable... and there was a rope.... Well, if that fellow was after him, he might as well give up!... Sweat broke out on his body... the beam and the rope beckoned him... they seemed to call to him!...

The snow went faster than anyone would have believed; it began to settle on the day after the weather had cleared, grew soft toward evening, and the next day’s sun took all of it away. It seemed to leave very little water; within a short while the ground was drier than before.... And now came days when the warm, bright sunshine filled everything between heaven and earth. As the sun sank, he left part of his heat behind him; the nights grew soft and balmy, and stirred with mysterious life.... At length evenings so sweet and beautiful began to visit the prairie, that, as the saying is, dead men might willingly step out of their graves and walk about. But all this could not alter the fact that Per Hansa’s precious seed grain lay over there in the field, ruined by frost and snow—those marvellous, pregnant kernels, so delicate and sensitive.... Damn the luck!...

One day as Per Hansa was pottering about out-of-doors, hardly knowing which way to turn, he caught sight of Tönseten, who had commenced his seeding. Like a condemned man about to be executed Per Hansa walked over.... Tönseten is an aboriginal American, he thought, bitterly. I might as well let him polish off the damned fool of a newcomer!

But to-day Tönseten was too busy even to talk. Per Hansa didn’t feel inclined to open up the subject of his own troubles; he began on a different tack, to head the other off:

“I must say you certainly sow it even!”

Tönseten spat a prodigious distance.... “You think so?”... But he didn’t stop for a moment; his arms continued to cut wide semicircles in the air; golden grain flew out of his hand and rained down to the ground through the warm sunlight, there to begin the mystic dream of life.

This is beautiful! thought Per Hansa.... I couldn’t sow it as even as that.

“I was a fool for not waiting to get you to do the seeding for me,” he observed.

Tönseten spat another great mouthful before he answered:

“Well, some people are bound to cut off their nose to spite their face.... But then—this is a free country, you know!”... He walked on with measured steps, his arm sweeping in long, graceful curves; the kernels flew far and wide, catching the sunlight a moment as they fell.

Per Hansa turned abruptly, and began to walk toward home. When Tönseten noticed this, he stopped his work and called out:

“Did you want anything, Per Hansa?”

“Hell—no!”

“All right. To-day, you see, I’m a busy man!”

Per Hansa started to answer, choked, and continued to walk away. His head was in a whirl as he went on toward his own field, which seemed to be making faces at him as he drew nearer; it was indeed a forbidding countenance that he saw there, lifeless and black and bare. Reaching the field, he fell on his knees, dug into the soil, and picked up the first kernel he came across; he laid it in the palm of his left hand and turned it over and over with the forefinger of his right; the seed was black with clammy dirt, which clung tightly to it. Slowly and carefully he picked off the particles of soil—and there it lay, a pale little thing, greyish-white and dirty, the golden sheen through which he had read the fairy tale, entirely gone, the magic departed, the seed cold and dead.

Per Hansa dropped it without a word, and dug in the ground until he had found another kernel. The one he now picked up had the same lifeless color, but it was swollen and seemed about to burst open.... “This is the frost!”—he mumbled, hoarsely.—“It’s all begun to rot!”... He rose to his feet and stood there as if chained to the spot, the very personification of gloom, gazing out over the face of his dead dream.... “Then Satan answered the Lord, and said, From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down in it.”... There can’t be much doubt that he’s found this place, all right—the devil salt and pickle his guts!...

III

Over on the piece of field which Per Hansa had broken, during the last few days the boys were now busy at work with the dragging. He had set them to the task early that morning, but had not yet made up his mind what to put into the field. Now he walked over to them.

One of the boys was driving; the other sat on the harrow, making grooves with his heels in the loose dirt; on each round of the field they exchanged places. They had quarrelled considerably over who could drive the straightest; now they were trying to decide this momentous question by judging the straightness of the grooves made on each round.

The boys stopped as they saw their father approaching. “Isn’t this piece four acres?” Ole demanded, boisterously. “It should be,” their father answered in a tired voice.

“All right,” beamed Ole. “If we plant potatoes in the whole piece and get a hundred and fifty bushels to the acre, we’ll have six hundred bushels in all!”

“Then we’ll sell ’em!” Store-Hans broke in, his eye snapping.

“Shut up, you! This is my idea!” Ole turned again to his father and kept on with his arithmetic: “We can’t get less than thirty cents a bushel, can we? I’ll be able to help you haul them to town. And that’ll be exactly one hundred and eighty dollars. Gee! What a lot!” The boy looked proudly at his father, and added with a grown-up air, “We ought to get the potatoes planted at once—that’s my opinion!”

But then Store-Hans had a great inspiration, and flashed out:

“When we get as much money as that, just for potatoes, we’ll buy a shotgun. Hurrah!”

“Stop your nonsense and get to work!” said Per Hansa, harshly. “You need a pair of pants to cover your bottom, more than you do a gun.... Move on, now, I tell you!”

On the way home that morning, Per Hansa realized one thing more clearly than ever before—unless he could find something to occupy his body and mind, and find it right away, he would go all to pieces one of these fine days.... Well, why not do as Ole suggested? Here was this piece of new field, and it had to be put to some use.... If that fellow was loose around these parts, Per Hansa might as well give him a run for his money!...

The minute Per Hansa reached home he opened the root cellar and began carrying out potatoes. He took out all that he judged they could possibly spare and began to cut them up into small pieces; he was determined to have enough seed to cover the whole field.... Oh yes, no doubt this was insanely foolish, too, but, damn it all, he might as well come to ruination at once and be done with it!...

The planting kept the three of them busy for the rest of that week. When Sunday morning came, Per Hansa rose at the usual time, ate his breakfast in silence, and then went back to bed. And-Ongen crawled into bed with him and stirred up a terrible commotion; he must wake now and tell her a story. Getting no answer, she pulled his hair and pinched his cheek and tugged at his nose. The carrying-on of the child made a pleasant diversion for him in his dark mood. Beret sat by the table, reading the Bible. To his great relief, she said little these days.... As he lay there brooding he was turning over and over in his mind a new idea—mightn’t he make another trip to the Sioux River? Perhaps he could yet scare up a couple of sacks of wheat there. The seeding would be far behind-hand, that’s true; but barring any more bad luck, he would at least be able to harvest enough seed grain for another year.... But it was so late now—too late, really, to think of such a thing. Perhaps he had better go to Sioux Falls or Worthington and try to get work for the summer. Beret and the boys could easily get along without him.... No, he couldn’t quite make up his mind as to what would be best.... All the while And-Ongen was pommelling him because he wouldn’t tell her a story.

Suddenly a violent stamping of feet sounded outside; some one came running up, with another close at his heels.

Ole jerked the door open, took one leap, and landed in the middle of the floor. The boy was wild-eyed with excitement.

“Per Hansa!” he cried, calling his father by name. “The wheat is up!” Then he took another leap and stood leaning over the bed. “The wheat is up, I say!... Can’t you hear me?”...

But now Store-Hans came storming in, all out of breath: “Father Per Hansa—the wheat is so high!”

“You shut up!” raged his brother. “I came first!”

“I guess I can tell it, too!” Store-Hans paid no further attention to his brother; he was standing now by the bed, measuring on his finger. “The wheat is so high, the oats about up to here!... Don’t you suppose we can buy a shotgun?”

Per Hansa said never a word; he got up, trembling in every limb, and put the child aside. In a moment he had left the house and rushed up to the field. There he stood spellbound, gazing at the sight spread before him. His whole body shook; tears came to his eyes, so that he found it difficult to see clearly. And well he might be surprised. Over the whole field tiny green shoots were quivering in the warm sunshine.

Store-Hans was standing now by his father’s side; he looked at him in consternation.

“Are you sick, father?”

No answer.

“Why, you’re crying!”

“You’re... so—foolish, Store-Hans!” Per Hansa was blowing his nose violently.... “So terribly foolish!” he added, softly, and straightened himself up with a new energy.

Store-Hans now began to feel reassured about his father. The boy turned to the field and spoke in a voice thrilled with delight:

“Isn’t it dandy?”

The silence continued for a while longer. But at last his father cleared his throat. “Come here, Store-Hans!” Per Hansa placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What are you going to be when you grow up?”

“When I grow up?” repeated the boy, wonderingly. “Well, a general... one like Grant.”

Per Hansa looked at him, a strange chuckling sound issuing from his throat:

“What about being a minister?... We need a minister more.”

“Oh, well,” said Store-Hans, indifferently. “I suppose I can be that, too.... Don’t you think we can get a shotgun pretty soon?”

Per Hansa was a different man when he walked home; the spring had come back to his step. Entering the house, he sat down by his wife, who was still reading the Bible, and said, abruptly:

“You’d better read us a chapter!” Then he cleared his throat and looked around the room. “No more nonsense, boys! Come here and sit down quietly while mother reads to us.”

IV

That summer many happenings took place in the settlement by Spring Creek. For those who had been here from the beginning, associations were slowly growing up outside of the day’s work. At the very last of May the Irish arrived, with many new land-seekers in their company; they all settled west by the sloughs, so as to have access to water for the cattle. The first part of June the Vossings and Sognings put into port; they, too, brought many new homesteaders with them. The latter folk all settled east of the creek, spreading eastward and southward, to bring them nearer to town. Here the soil was first class, too; and Tönseten assured them that water was no problem, if they would dig deep enough.... Water! Why, good Lord! wasn’t the whole earth surrounded by water?... Talk sense, folks, and get your houses built!... Soon one new sod house after another began to stick its head above the waving grass of the prairie.

Among the Sognings was a tall, heavily built man, with a light complexion and rather good looking, but loud spoken and given to bragging. All his words and actions had an irritating arrogance; he was always right; at times he got on everyone’s nerves, because he talked so much and with such cocksureness. Luck had been with him, it seemed; he had received a considerable inheritance from the old country; while living in Minnesota he had cleared much land, which he had been able to dispose of at a fine price; rumour had it that he was worth at least three thousand dollars in cash, besides other property; and this report he did not deny. The man had a large family; his name was Torkel Tallaksen.

Not long after the arrival of this man, Store-Hans had a fight with one of the Tallaksen boys. It came about in this way: the boys chanced to meet down by the creek one day, as they were both out chasing the cattle, Store-Hans riding his pony, the other boy a common old work horse.

“Where did you swipe that pony?” the stranger shouted, challengingly.

“I didn’t swipe it!”

“Where did you get it, then?”

“Oh, I just got it.”

“Can’t you tell?”

“Come here, if you want to know.”

The two boys dismounted, looked each other over, then sat down and fell to talking. Store-Hans was eager to inform this tenderfoot of the mighty things they had done out here; he related how the pony had come to be his, giving the story a picturesque turn whenever he saw the chance. He and his father, he told the stranger, had rescued an Indian chief—well, it was the highest chief over all the Indians out West. This chief was dying; he was almost dead when they found him.... What was the matter? Well, there had been a terrible battle; the Indian had been desperately wounded—shot and left for dead.... But he and his father had cured him, and they had received this pony as a reward.

The other boy listened scornfully to the story, said “humph—humph” a good many times, and finally declared the whole thing to be a lie; people out here were such awful liars, so his father had told him!...

Store-Hans could hardly stand this accusation, for hadn’t he himself helped in restoring the Indian to life? So without further ado he pitched into the other boy and the fight was on. It proved a tough battle; clothes were torn and both combatants sneezed gore. The bloody noses didn’t matter much, for they could be washed; but it would be more serious to have to explain the tattered shirts. The boys fought it out, however; finally the newcomer had to admit that truth is truth and take back all he had said. This mollified Store-Hans; he let the other boy try the pony, and they became friends. But the same evening he had to tell the incident to his father; after the nose had been washed and properly cooled, it had taken on alarming proportions, which called for an explanation; this Per Hansa got as he sat on the woodpile, smoking his evening pipe, with Store-Hans standing near by.

All the new settlers that spring, with the exception of Torkel Tallaksen, built sod houses; but he had vaster plans in mind. He set up a tent, hitched his four horses to the breaking plow, worked like a beaver, and soon had broken a big field, considering the fact that he had just arrived. He had brought seed enough with him to plant the whole area. Rumours began to spread in the settlement about his plans; when he was done seeding he proposed to go to Worthington after lumber; both his living house and barn were to be built this summer.... Per Hansa listened to these rumours and cocked his head on one side, but made no comment.

One day just as they were sitting down to the noon meal at Per Hansa’s, Torkel Tallaksen swaggered in and asked in a loud voice if he could hire Per Hansa and the oxen to go to Worthington with him for building materials? All the other neighbours were going, too.... “You folks have been here so long now, and have got such a good start that you can afford to lend a hand to a poor devil who is just starting in! I need all the critters that can crawl, with me. I’ll pay you in either work or cash—but I prefer cash, for then it’s over with!... No, thank you, I’m not going to sit down; I just stepped in on my way to your neighbours’.... Fine fields you’ve got on this side of the creek. You ought to get a fairly decent harvest, considering.... How big is that field of yours, anyway?... Good Lord! Not more than that in a whole year?... Well, I’ll give you a tip—oxen aren’t any good; they’re too slow for the way things go nowadays.... Fine-looking house you’ve got, inside, but sod houses aren’t much better than dugouts—in some ways, really not so good.... For my part, I am through with such poor makeshifts.... Well, can I count on you, then?”... Tallaksen referred to this trip as airily as if he were asking for a match.

“Are you going to build?” Per Hansa asked, quietly.

“You bet I am. Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you? If I’m to stay here, I intend to live like a human being!”... And now he began outlining his building plans and explaining them at length.... “Oh yes, there’s a lot to do before I get everything ready; but I intend to hire plenty of help and get it done in a jiffy. See? I’ve come out here to break prairie, I want you to know.... If crops turn out decently this year, I’ll snap up one more quarter by fall, or perhaps two. Really”—here the man grew confidential—“I don’t see any nameable reason why a smart man couldn’t farm a whole section of land like this—or even more. Why, you’ve only got to put the plow into the level prairie!... But first of all, I want to build a decent house; the painting I’ll let go until fall.”... His voice flowed on in such a steady stream that no one else could get in a word edgewise.

“You’re going to paint?” Per Hansa asked, and got up from the table abruptly. He was breathing fast.

“Paint? Why, certainly! It would never do to let a house stand unpainted in this climate. It wouldn’t look well, either.”

A look of innocent curiosity rested on Beret’s face as she listened to the great plans being unfolded before her. She seemed lost in thought, and asked in a quiet tone if it were really true that he intended to build a home like that—now, at once, this summer? It would be a fine thing, she added—and there was a note of wistful gladness in her voice—to see a real house once more. It would make the desert look brighter....

At that Torkel Tallaksen had to laugh outright; he had never seen such a houseful of moles! Here he had been explaining till he was hoarse, but apparently they hadn’t understood one word of it! What was the use of wasting more breath on them?... He turned to go.

“Well,” he said to Per Hansa in an important voice, “can I count on you for the trip?”

Per Hansa paused over his answer. They were all looking at him inquiringly when he spoke:

“It seems to me,” he began, quietly, “that you are starting from the wrong end.” Again he paused, for he found it hard to choose his words. “If you would take the money that you intend to spend in building and put it into cattle and horses and machinery, and hire help enough to run them, then the devil himself couldn’t keep up with you. In a few years you’d be the king of all of us—though God knows we’d much rather have another. But this I tell you, now”—prophetic power rang in Per Hansa’s voice—“if you start from the other end and do as you’ve been proposing, then you and I will fight—yes, you and I!—for both the scepter and the crown... though all I’ve got now, God knows, is a pair of pants and a yoke of oxen!”...

Torkel Tallaksen laughed overbearingly. “One doesn’t need to live in a gopher hole, in order to get ahead!... Here, too, will have to come decency and civilized living.”

The words stung Per Hansa like a whip lash; in his effort to control himself he felt in his pocket for a match, found one, and hurled it to the floor.... “We’ll get our decency and civilized living all right—even if you should go back where you came from!... And now let me tell you one thing more—it’s better to begin in a gopher hole than to end in one.”...

Before Torkel Tallaksen was able to collect himself for a reply, Beret said, slowly, as if thinking aloud, but in a manner that compelled attention:

“Your wife certainly will have many reasons to be glad. Walls that will shut out all the unspeakable things out here... floors that can be washed on the Sabbath eve.... I know too well that human beings should not live like beasts! After they have turned into beasts, houses don’t matter.”...

Torkel Tallaksen looked at the woman as if he had discovered her for the first time.... Uh-huh, he nodded; here’s the common sense of this outfit!... “Right you are, and no doubt about it! I wouldn’t live like this for all the prairie land in the whole of Dakota Territory.... But now things are going to be different, if I have anything to say about it. We’re going to build houses that can stand up and be seen; people won’t need to wonder whether this is a settlement or a gopher camp!” Suddenly a fresh idea seemed to strike him: “Perhaps you’d like to help my wife weave a few carpets? She’s all the time talking about carpets, and I suppose she must have ’em.... They save the floors, too.”

“I would be glad to try,” said Beret, humbly. “One ought to help another get what she cannot have for herself.... I think it would be interesting work.”

As he listened to his wife, Per Hansa was fumbling in his pocket for another match; at last he brought it out, struck it on the table, and held it until it burned down to the end. The room was swimming before his eyes; words floated across his vision—words that he longed to use; he reached out for them, but they melted into the air; what Beret had said had driven them away.... Per Hansa sat down heavily on the chest, his face pale and drawn.

“All right—that’s settled, then!” said Torkel Tallaksen. Then he turned to Per Hansa: “We start the day after to-morrow. I’m counting on you, remember—you and the oxen.... You’ll be needing some one to haul for you pretty soon, when you once get on your feet.”

Silence fell on the room. The man stood there, waiting for an answer.

“You’d better count over again!” Per Hansa growled. Without another word he sprang up from the chest and left the house. In a gruff voice he called to the oxen. That day he kept on breaking as long as he could see. When he unhitched at last he walked in slowly from the field, stooping over in thought; he could hardly bring himself to going home. What business had he there—what earthly business?... The sod house and all it contained lay in a great darkness, yet he was drawn toward it irresistibly....

... Perhaps it was true? What she had said might be more than half right—everything here was a failure, and he himself was no good.... A thought cut him to the very quick: “That’s the reward you get for fighting and striving—she says you are no good!”... To think that she hadn’t felt ashamed, that she had been willing to lay bare her troubles to that infernal blabberer and braggart!... Had she lost all sense of propriety?... “Oh, hell! Get up, there!” he ripped out to the oxen.

But as it transpired, Torkel Tallaksen’s great plans ran up against a snag. Tönseten didn’t care to go along unless Per Hansa went, for he was fully occupied with his own affairs. And the Solum boys were not overly enthusiastic; they were busy breaking prairie when Tallaksen came, and answered him that they would see how the others felt about it, and let him know. It finally developed that Torkel Tallaksen could engage only two men and two teams, which weren’t enough to haul home all the materials for a whole farmstead. And so, in the face of the inevitable, Torkel Tallaksen had to give up building for that summer.... Thus it happened that before the fall set in, another sod hut stuck its head above the waving grass of the prairie.

V

That summer many land seekers passed through the settlement on their way west. The arrival of a caravan was always an event of the greatest importance. How exciting they were, those little ships of the Great Plain! The prairie schooners, rigged with canvas tops which gleamed whitely in the shimmering light, first became visible as tiny specks against the eastern sky; one might almost imagine them to be sea gulls perched far, far away on an endless green meadow; but as one continued to watch, the white dots grew; they came drifting across the prairie like the day; after long waiting, they gradually floated out of the haze, distinct and clear; then, as they drew near, they proved to be veritable wagons, with horses hitched ahead, with folk and all their possessions inside, and a whole herd of cattle following behind.

The caravan would crawl slowly into the settlement and come to anchor in front of one of the sod houses; the moment it halted, people would swarm down and stretch themselves and begin to look after the teams; cattle would bellow; sheep would bleat as they ran about. Many queer races and costumes were to be seen in these caravans, and a babble of strange tongues shattered the air. Nut-brown youngsters, dressed only in a shirt and a pair of pants, would fly around between the huts, looking for other youngsters; an infant, its mother crooning softly to it, would sit securely perched in the fold of her arm; white-haired old men and women, who should have been living quietly at home, preparing for a different journey, were also to be seen in the group, running about like youngsters; the daily jogging from sky line to sky line had brightened their eyes and quickened their tongues. All were busy; each had a thousand questions to ask; every last one of them was in high spirits, though they knew no other home than the wagon and the blue skies above.... The Lord only could tell whence all these people had come and whither they were going!...

The caravan usually intended to stop only long enough for the women folk to boil coffee and get a fresh supply of water; but the starting was always delayed, for the men had so many questions to ask. Once in a while during these halts a fiddler would bring out his fiddle and play a tune or two, and then there would be dancing. Such instances were rare, but good cheer and excitement invariably accompanied these visits.

—Why not settle right here? The Spring Creek folk would ask the west-movers.... There’s plenty of good land left—nothing better to be found between here and the Pacific Ocean!

—No, not yet. They weren’t quite ready to settle; these parts looked fairly crowded.... The farther west, the better.... They guessed they would have to go on a way, though this really looked pretty good!...

And so the caravans would roll onward into the green stillness of the west. How strange—they vanished faster than they had appeared! The white sails grew smaller and smaller in the glow of the afternoon, until they had dwindled to nothing; the eye might seek them out there in the waning day, and search till it grew blurred, but all in vain—they were gone, and had left no trace!...

---

Foggy weather had now been hanging over the prairie for three whole days; a warm mist of rain mizzled continuously out of the low sky. Toward evening of the third day, the fog lifted and clear sky again appeared; the setting sun burst through the cloud banks rolling up above the western horizon, and transformed them into marvellous fairy castles.... While this was going on, over to the northeast of the Solum boys’ place a lonely wagon had crept into sight; it had almost reached the creek before anyone had noticed it, for the Solum boys were visiting among the Sognings, where there were many young people. But as Beret sat out in the yard, milking, the wagon crossed her view. When she brought in the milk, she remarked in her quiet manner that they were going to have company, at which tidings the rest of the family had to run out and see who might be coming at this time of day.

There was only one wagon, with two cows following behind; on the left side walked a brown-whiskered, stooping man—he was doing the driving; close behind him came a half-grown boy, dragging his feet heavily. The wagon at last crawled up the hill and came to a stop in Per Hansa’s yard, where the whole family stood waiting.

“I don’t suppose there are any Norwegians in this settlement. No, that would be too much to expect,” said the man in a husky, worn-out voice.

“If you’re looking for Norwegians, you have found the right place, all right! We sift the people as they pass through here—keep our own, and let the others go!”... Per Hansa wanted to run on, for he felt in high spirits; but he checked himself, observing that the man looked as if he stood on the very brink of the grave.

—Was there any chance of putting up here for the night?

“Certainly! certainly!” cried Per Hansa, briskly, “provided they were willing to take things as they were.”

The man didn’t answer, but walked instead to the wagon and spoke to some one inside:

“Kari, now you must brace up and come down. Here we have found Norwegians at last!” As if fearing a contradiction, he added: “Ya, they are real Norwegians. I’ve talked with them.”

On top of his words there came out of the wagon, first a puny boy with a hungry face, somewhat smaller than the other boy; then a girl of about the same size, but looking much older. She helped to get down another boy, about six years old, who evidently had been sleeping and looked cross and tired. That seemed to be all.

The man stepped closer to the wagon. “Aren’t you coming, Kari?”

A groan sounded within the canvas. The girl grabbed hold of her father’s arm. “You must untie the rope! Can’t you remember anything?” she whispered, angrily.

“Ya, that’s right! Wait a minute till I come and help you.”

An irresistible curiosity took hold of Per Hansa; in two jumps he stood on the tongue of the wagon. The sight that met his eyes sent chills running down his spine. Inside sat a woman on a pile of clothes, with her back against a large immigrant chest; around her wrists and leading to the handles of the chest a strong rope was tied; her face was drawn and unnatural. Per Hansa trembled so violently that he had to catch hold of the wagon box, but inwardly he was swearing a steady stream. To him it looked as if the woman was crucified.

... “For God’s sake, man!”...

The stranger paid no attention; he was pottering about and pleading: “Come down now, Kari.... Ya, all right, I’ll help you! Everything’s going to be all right—I know it will!... Can you manage to get up?” He had untied the rope, and the woman had risen to her knees.

“O God!” she sighed, putting her hands to her head.

“Please come. That’s right; I’ll help you!” pleaded the man, as if he were trying to persuade a child.

She came down unsteadily. “Is this the place, Jakob?” she asked in a bewildered way. But now Beret ran up and put her arm around her; the women looked into each other’s eyes and instantly a bond of understanding had been established. “You come with me!” urged Beret.... “O God! This isn’t the place, either!” wailed the woman; but she followed Beret submissively into the house.

“Well, well!” sighed the man as he began to unhitch the horses. “Life isn’t easy—no, it certainly isn’t.”...

Per Hansa watched him anxiously, hardly knowing what to do. Both the boys kept close to him. Then an idea flashed through his mind: “You boys run over to Hans Olsa’s and tell him not to go to bed until I come.... No, I don’t want him here. And you two stay over there to-night. Now run along!”

Turning to the man, he asked, “Aren’t there any more in your party?”

“No, not now. We were five, you see, to begin with—five in all—but the others had to go on.... Haven’t they been by here yet? Well, they must be somewhere over to the westward.... No, life isn’t easy.”... The man wandered on in his monotonous, blurred tone; he sounded all the time as if he were half sobbing.

“Where do you come from?” Per Hansa demanded, gruffly.

The man didn’t give a direct answer, but continued to ramble on in the same mournful way, stretching his story out interminably.... They had been wandering over the prairie for nearly six weeks.... Ya, it was a hard life. When they had started from Houston County, Minnesota, there had been five wagons in all. Strange that the others hadn’t turned up here. Where could they be? It seemed to him as if he had travelled far enough to reach the ends of the earth!... Good God, what a nightmare life was! If he had only—only known...!

“Did the others go away and leave you?” Per Hansa hadn’t intended to ask that question, but it had slipped out before he realized what he was saying. He wondered if there could be anything seriously wrong....

“They couldn’t possibly wait for us—couldn’t have been expected to. Everything went wrong, you see, and I didn’t know when I would be able to start again.... Turn the horses loose, John,” he said to the boy. “Take the pail and see if you can squeeze some milk out of the cows. Poor beasts, they don’t give much now!” Then he turned to Per Hansa again: “I don’t know what would have become of us if we hadn’t reached this place to-night! We’d have been in a bad hole, that I assure you! Women folk can’t bear up....” The man stopped and blew his nose.

Per Hansa dreaded what might be coming next. “You must have got off your course, since you are coming down from the north?”

The man shook his head helplessly. “To tell the truth, I don’t know where we’ve been these last few days. We couldn’t see the sun.”

“Haven’t you got a compass?”

“Compass? No! I tried to steer with a rope, but the one I had wasn’t long enough.”

“Like hell you did!” exclaimed Per Hansa, excitedly, full of a sudden new interest.

“Ya, I tried that rope idea—hitched it to the back of the wagon, and let it drag in the wet grass. But it didn’t work—I couldn’t steer straight with it. The rope was so short, and kept kinking around so much, that it didn’t leave any wake.”

“Uh-huh!” nodded Per Hansa wisely. “You must be a seafaring man, to have tried that trick!”

“No, I’m no sailor. But fisher-folk out here have told me that it’s possible to steer by a rope.... I had to try something.”

“Where did you cross the Sioux?”

“How do I know where I crossed it? We came to a river a long way to the east of here—that must have been the Sioux. We hunted and hunted before we could find a place shallow enough to cross.... God! this has certainly been a wandering in the desert for me!... But if Kari only gets better, I won’t complain—though I never dreamed that life could be so hard.”...

“Is she—is she sick, that woman of yours?”

The man did not answer this question immediately; he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. When he spoke again, his voice had grown even more blurred and indistinct: “Physically she seems to be as well as ever—as far as I can see. She certainly hasn’t overworked since we’ve been travelling. I hope there’s nothing wrong with her.... But certain things are hard to bear—I suppose it’s worse for the mother, too—though the Lord knows it hasn’t been easy for me, either!... You see, we had to leave our youngest boy out there on the prairie....”

“Leave him?”... These were the only two words that came to Per Hansa’s mind.

“Ya, there he lies, our little boy!... I never saw a more promising man—you know what I mean—when he grew up.... But now—oh, well....”

Per Hansa felt faint in the pit of his stomach; his throat grew dry; his voice became as husky as that of the other; he came close up to him. “Tell me—how did this happen?”

The man shook his head again, in a sort of dumb despair. Then he cleared his throat and continued with great effort: “I can’t tell how it happened! Fate just willed it so. Such things are not to be explained.... The boy had been ailing for some time—we knew that, but didn’t pay much attention. We had other things to think of.... Then he began to fail fast. We were only one day’s journey this side of Jackson; so we went back. That was the time when the others left us. I don’t blame them much—it was uncertain when we could go on.... The doctor we found wasn’t a capable man—I realize it now. He spoke only English and couldn’t understand what I was saying. He had no idea what was wrong with the boy—I could see that plainly enough.... Ya, well—so we started again.... It isn’t any use to fight against Fate; that’s an old saying, and a true one, too, I guess.... Before long we saw that the boy wasn’t going to recover. So we hurried on, day and night, trying to catch our neighbours.... Well, that’s about all of it. One night he was gone—just as if you had blown out a candle. Ya, let me see—that was five nights ago.”

“Have you got him there in the wagon?” demanded Per Hansa, grabbing the man by the arm.

“No, no,” he muttered, huskily. “We buried him out there by a big stone—no coffin or anything. But Kari took the best skirt she had and wrapped it all around him—we had to do something, you know.... But,” he continued, suddenly straightening up, “Paul cannot lie there! As soon as I find my neighbours, I’ll go and get him. Otherwise Kari....” The man paused between the sobs that threatened to choke him. “I have had to tie her up the last few days. She insisted on getting out and going back to Paul. I don’t think she has had a wink of sleep for over a week.... It’s just as I was saying—some people can’t stand things.”...

Per Hansa leaned heavily against the wagon. “Has she gone crazy?” he asked, hoarsely.

“She isn’t much worse than the rest of us. I don’t believe... Kari is really a well-balanced woman... but you can imagine how it feels, to leave a child that way....”

The boy, John, had finished milking. He had put the pail down and was standing a little way off, listening to his father’s story; suddenly he threw himself on the ground, sobbing as if in convulsions.

“John! John!” admonished the father. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself—a grown-up man like you! Take the milk and carry it into the house!”

“That’s right!” echoed Per Hansa, pulling himself together. “We’d better all go in. There’s shelter here, and plenty to eat.”

Beret was bustling around the room when they entered; she had put the woman to bed, and now was tending her. “Where are the boys?” she asked.

Per Hansa told her that he had sent them to Hans Olsa’s for the night.

“That was hardly necessary; we could have made room here somehow.” Beret’s voice carried a note of keen reproach.

The man had paused at the door; now he came over to the bed, took the limp hand, and muttered: “Poor soul!... Why, I believe she’s asleep already!”

Beret came up and pushed him gently aside. “Be careful. Don’t wake her. She needs the rest.”

“Ya, I don’t doubt it—not I! She hasn’t slept for a week, you see—the poor soul!” With a loud sniff, he turned and left the room.

When supper time came the woman seemed to be engulfed in a stupefying sleep. Beret did not join the others at the supper table, but busied herself, instead, by trying to make the woman more comfortable; she loosened her clothes, took off her shoes, and washed her face in warm water; during all this the stranger never stirred. That done, Beret began to fix up sleeping quarters for the strangers, in the barn. She carried in fresh hay and brought out all the bedding she had; she herself would take care of the woman, in case she awoke and needed attention. Beret did little talking, but she went about these arrangements with a firmness and confidence that surprised her husband.

Per Hansa came in from the barn, after helping the strangers settle themselves for the night. Beret was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressing the baby for the night; she had put And-Ongen to bed beside the distracted woman.

“Did she tell you much?” he asked in a low voice.

Beret glanced toward the other bed before she answered:

“Only that she had had to leave one of her children on the way. She wasn’t able to talk connectedly.”

“It’s a terrible thing!” he said, looking away from his wife. “I think I’ll go over to Hans Olsa’s for a minute. I want to talk this matter over with him.”

“Talk it over with him?” she repeated, coldly. “I don’t suppose Hans Olsa knows everything!”

“No, of course not. But these people have got to be helped, and we can’t do it all alone.” He hesitated for a minute, as if waiting for her consent. “Well, I won’t be gone long,” he said as he went out of the door.

When he returned, an hour later, she was still sitting on the edge of the bed, with the baby asleep on her lap. They sat in silence for a long while; at last he began to undress. She waited until he was in bed, then turned the lamp low and lay down herself, but without undressing.... The lamp shed only a faint light. It was so quiet in the room that one could hear the breathing of all the others. Beret lay there listening; though the room was still, it seemed alive to her with strange movements; she forced herself to open her eyes and look around. Noticing that Per Hansa wasn’t asleep, either, she asked:

“Did you look after the boys?”

“Nothing the matter with them! They were fast asleep in Sofie’s bed.”

“You told them everything, at Hans Olsa’s?”

“Of course!”

“What did they think of it?”

Per Hansa raised himself on his elbows and glanced at the broken creature lying in the bed back of theirs. The woman, apparently, had not stirred a muscle. “It’s a bad business,” he said. “We must try to get together a coffin and find the boy. We can’t let him lie out there—that way.”... As Beret made no answer, he briefly narrated the story that the man had told him. “The fellow is a good-for-nothing, stupid fool, I’m sure of that,” concluded Per Hansa.

She listened to him in silence. For some time she brooded over her thoughts; then in a bitter tone she suddenly burst out: “Now you can see that this kind of a life is impossible! It’s beyond human endurance.”

He had not the power to read her thoughts; he did not want to know them; to-night every nerve in his body was taut with apprehension and dismay. But he tried to say, reassuringly. “Hans Olsa and I will both go with the man, as soon as the day breaks. If we only had something to make the coffin of! The few pieces of board that I’ve got here will hardly be enough.... Now let’s go to sleep. Be sure and call me if you need anything!”

He turned over resolutely, as if determined to sleep; but she noticed that he was a long time doing it.... I wonder what’s going through his mind? she thought. She was glad to have him awake, just the same; to-night there were strange things abroad in the room....

VI

The instant the woman had climbed down from the wagon and looked into Beret’s face a curtain seemed to be drawn over all the terrible experiences of the last few weeks. She entered a cozy room where things were as they should be; she felt the warm presence of folk who had dwelt here a long time. She took in the whole room at a glance—table and benches and stools; a fire was burning in a real stove; a kettle was boiling; wet clothes were hanging on a line by the stove, giving out a pleasant, familiar odor; and there actually stood two beds, made up with clean bedding! The sense of home, of people who lived in an orderly fashion, swept over her like a warm bath. A kind hand led her to one of the beds, and there she sank down. She mumbled a few words, but soon gave it up; everything about her seemed so wonderfully pleasant; she must keep quiet, so as not to disturb the dream. The hand that helped her had such a sympathetic touch; it took a rag, dipped it in lukewarm water, and wiped her face; then it loosened her clothes and even took off her shoes. But best of all, she could stretch her back again!

... Strange that she couldn’t remember what had been going on! Had she told the woman all that she ought to know? About the makeshift coffin, and the big stone beside which they would find him? And that she would have to take a blanket with her, for the nights were chilly and Paul had very little on—only a shirt that was worn and thin?... No, she couldn’t remember anything except that she had been able to lie down and stretch her back; the warmth of the room, and the knowledge that friendly people were near her, had overcome all her senses with a sweet languor. Her body lay as if fast asleep; but away back in the inner depths of her consciousness a wee eye peeped out, half open, and saw things....

She remained in the same position until three o’clock in the morning. But then the wee bit of an eye opened wider and her senses slowly began to revive; she realized that she was lying in a strange room, where a lamp burned with a dim light. Suddenly she remembered that she had arrived here last night—but Paul was not with her.... Too bad I am so forgetful! she thought. I must hurry now before Jakob sees me, because there’s no way of stopping him—he always wants to go on!... She was fully awake now; she sat up and buttoned her clothes, then slipped quietly out of bed.

For a moment she stood perfectly still, listening; she could hear the breathing of many people; bending suddenly over the bed, she snatched up And-Ongen. She held the child tenderly in her arms and put her cheek against the warm face.... We must be careful now! she thought. With quiet movements she wrapped her skirt about the sleeping child; glancing around the room to see if all was well, she glided out like a shadow; she did not dare to close the door behind her, lest it should make a noise.... “Here is our wagon!” she murmured. “I mustn’t let Jakob see me now; he doesn’t understand; he only wants to get on!”... Clutching the child to her breast, she started on the run, taking a direction away from the house.

Beret was awakened by a voice calling to her from a great distance; it called loudly several times. What a shame they can’t let me alone in peace, to get a little rest! she thought, drowsily. I was up so late last night and I need the sleep badly!... But the voice kept calling so persistently that after a while she sat up in bed, her mind coming back to reality; she remembered that strangers had arrived last night, that another besides herself was in deep distress. Well, she had done her best to take care of her.... She turned her head to see how the other woman was resting.

... “Heaven have mercy!”...

---

Beret leaped frantically out of bed; in a second she had reached the side of the other bed, but no one was there. She did not notice that And-Ongen was gone, too. A cold draught rushing through the room told her that the door stood open; she hurried over to it. She seemed to recall dimly that some one had recently gone out. Hadn’t she heard it in her sleep? Beret went through the door and stood in front of the house, but did not dare to make an outcry; she listened intently, then called in a low voice; getting no answer, she ran around the house, peering hither and thither, but the grey morning light disclosed nothing.

Running back into the house, she called her husband distractedly. “She’s gone! Get up! You must hurry!”

In an instant Per Hansa was up and had tumbled into his clothes. “Run over to Hans Olsa’s and tell him to come at once! Be as quick as you can! In the meanwhile I’ll search down by the creek.”

When they came out, the first light of day was creeping up the eastern sky; a slight fog floated along the creek; the morning air was crisp and cool. Per Hansa leaped up into the seat of the wagon and scanned the prairie in every direction.... What was that, over there? Wasn’t it a human being standing on the top of the hill? Could she have taken that direction?... He jumped down from the wagon, and rushed around to the other side of the house, called to Beret, and pointed up the hill. Instantly they both started out on the run.

The woman did not seem in the least surprised at their coming. When Per Hansa had almost reached her, he stopped stone dead. What, in God’s name, was she carrying in her arms? His face blanched with terror. “Come here!” he shouted. In a moment he had the child in his own arms.

And-Ongen was almost awake now and had begun to whimper; things were going on around her that she could not understand; she felt cold, and father had such a queer look on his face. Sleepily she cuddled up in the fold of his left arm, her cheek against his heart, though a hard hand which seemed to be pounding against a wall was trying to wake her up again; she would just let it go on pounding all it pleased. She had to sleep some more!... But now mother was here. Hurriedly she was transferred into her mother’s arms and squeezed almost to a pancake. She had to gasp for breath; nevertheless she snuggled into her arms as closely as she could, for she felt, oh, so sleepy!... But no peace here, either! Here, too, a hand pounded against a wall. Were they tearing down the house? And-Ongen was certainly at a loss to understand all this racket in the middle of the night.... But let ’em pound!

As Beret walked homeward, carrying the child, it seemed more precious to her than the very first time when she had held it in her arms; and she experienced a wonderful blessing. Upon this night the Lord had been with them: His mighty arm had shielded them from a fearful calamity.

The other woman was still obsessed by her own troubles; she kept on hunting up there on the hill.... Wouldn’t these people help her to find Paul? She had to find him at once—He would be cold with so little on.... Now they had taken that blessed child away from her; but she didn’t wonder—that man had a bad face. She felt afraid of him.... But no time to think of such things now; Jakob would soon be coming? She began muttering to herself: “Oh, why can’t I find the stone? What has become of it? Wasn’t it somewhere here?”...

Per Hansa went up and spoke to her, his voice sounding hoarse and unnatural. “Come with me, now! To-day Hans Olsa and I are going to find your boy.” Taking her gently by the arm, he led her back to the house.... It’s very kind of him, to help find Paul, she thought, and followed willingly.

At breakfast she sat very quiet; she ate when they bade her, but never spoke. While they were making the coffin she sat looking on, wondering why they didn’t hurry faster with the work. Couldn’t they understand that Paul was cold? A little later a handsome woman entered the house—a woman with such a kind face, who lined the coffin inside with a white cloth.... Now, that is fine of her; that’s just what a woman with such a kind face would do!... She would have liked to talk to that woman; she had something very important to confide to her; but perhaps she had better not delay her in her work—the coffin had to be lined!...

As soon as the coffin was ready, Per Hansa and Hans Olsa, along with the stranger and his wife, left the settlement to hunt for the body of the dead boy. They took quite a stock of provisions with them. On this search they were gone four days; they criss-crossed the prairie for a long way to the east, and searched high and low; but when they returned the coffin was still empty.

VII

After the return from the search the strangers stayed one more day with them. The morning they were to leave it looked dark and threatening, and Per Hansa wouldn’t hear of their setting out; but along toward noon the sky cleared and the weather appeared more settled. The man, very anxious to be on his way, had everything loaded into the wagon, and as soon as the noon meal was over they were ready to go.

But before the man got on his way Per Hansa asked him where he intended to settle.

—Well, he wasn’t positive as to the exact place. It was over somewhere toward the James River—his neighbours had told him that.

—Did he know where the James River was? Per Hansa inquired further.

—Certainly he did! How could he ask such a foolish question. The river lay off there; all he needed to do was to steer straight west. After finding the river, of course he’d have to ask. But that part of it would be quite easy....

Per Hansa shuddered, and asked no more questions.

The woman had been quite calm since their return. She kept away from the others, muttering to herself and pottering over insignificant things, much like a child at play; but she was docile and inoffensive, and did what anyone told her. A short while before noon that day she took a notion that she must change her clothes; she got up from what she was doing, washed, and went to the wagon. When she came back she had dressed herself in her best; in a way she looked all right, but made a bizarre appearance because she had put so much on.... The man seemed fairly cheerful as they started; he talked a good deal, heaping many blessings upon Per Hansa.... If he could only find his neighbours, and Kari could only forget, things would be all right in a little while. Ya, it was a hard life, but——Well, God’s blessings on Per Hansa, and many thanks! And now he must be off!... His voice was just as husky and blurred as when he came.

The wagon started creaking; the man, short and stooping, led the way; the family piled into the wagon; the two cows jogged behind.... They laid their course due west.... Banks of heavy cloud were rolled up on the western horizon—huge, fantastic forms that seemed to await them in Heaven’s derision—though they might have been only the last stragglers of the spell of bad weather just past.

After they had gone, Beret could find no peace in the house; her hand trembled; she felt faint and dizzy; every now and then she had to go out and look at the disappearing wagon; and when the hill finally shut off the view she took the youngest two children and went up there to watch. In a way she felt glad that these people were gone; at the same time she reproached herself for not having urged them to stay longer. Sitting now on the hilltop, a strong presentiment came over her that they should not have started to-day.... “That’s the way I’ve become,” she thought sadly. “Here are folk in the deepest distress, and I am only glad to send them off into direr calamities! What will they do to-night if a storm comes upon them? He is all broken up—he couldn’t have been much of a man at any time. And the poor wife insane from grief! Perhaps she will disappear forever this very night.... What misery, what an unspeakable tragedy, life is for some!”...

Slowly, very slowly, the forlorn caravan crept off into the great, mysterious silence always hovering above the plain. To Beret, as she watched, it seemed as if the prairie were swallowing up the people, the wagon, the cows and all. At last the little caravan was merged in the very infinite itself; Beret thought she could see the wagon yet, but was not certain; it might be only a dead tuft of grass far away which the wind stirred....

She took the children and went home, walking with slow, dragging steps; she wanted to cry, and felt the need of it, but no tears came.... Per Hansa and the boys were breaking prairie; to judge from the language they used in talking to the oxen, they must be hard at it. Her loneliness was so great that she felt a physical need of bringing happiness to some living thing; as soon as she got home she took her little remaining store of rice and cooked porridge for supper; the boys were very fond of that dish.

Toward evening the air grew heavy and sultry; the cloud banks, still rolling up in the western sky, had taken on a most threatening aspect; it looked as if a thunderstorm might be coming on.

After supper Per Hansa was due to meet at Hans Olsa’s with the other neighbours, to lay plans for the trip to town which had to be made before harvesting set in. The boys asked leave to go, too—it was so much fun to be with the men.

When she had washed the supper dishes Beret went outdoors and sat down on the woodpile. A nameless apprehension tugged at her heart and would not leave her in peace; taking the two children as before, she again ascended the hill. The spell of the afternoon’s sadness was still upon her; her constant self-reproach since then had only deepened it.... Those poor folk were straying somewhere out there, under the towering clouds. Poor souls! The Lord pity the mother who had left a part of herself back east on the prairie! How could the good God permit creatures made in His image to fall into such tribulations? To people this desert would be as impossible as to empty the sea. For how could folk establish homes in an endless wilderness? Was it not the Evil One that had struck them with blindness?... Take her own case, for example: here she sat, thousands of miles from home and kindred, lost in a limitless void.... Out yonder drifted these folk, like chips on a current.... Must man perish because of his own foolishness. Where, then, was the guiding hand?... Beret was gazing at the western sky as the twilight fast gathered around her; her eyes were riveted on a certain cloud that had taken on the shape of a face, awful of mien and giantlike in proportions; the face seemed to swell out of the prairie and filled half the heavens.

She gazed a long time; now she could see the monster clearer. The face was unmistakable! There were the outlines of the nose and mouth. The eyes—deep, dark caves in the cloud—were closed. The mouth, if it were to open, would be a yawning abyss. The chin rested on the prairie.... Black and lean the whole face, but of such gigantic, menacing proportions! Wasn’t there something like a leer upon it?... And the terrible creature was spreading everywhere; she trembled so desperately that she had to take hold of the grass.

It was a strange emotion that Beret was harbouring at this moment; in reality she felt a certain morbid satisfaction—very much like a child that has been arguing with its parents, has turned out to be right, and, just as the tears are coming, cries, “Now, there, you see!”... Here was the simple solution to the whole riddle. She had known in her heart all the time that people were never led into such deep affliction unless an evil power had been turned loose among them. And hadn’t she clearly felt that there were unspeakable things out yonder—that the great stillness was nothing but life asleep?... She sat still as death, feeling the supernatural emanations all around her. The face came closer in the dusk—didn’t she feel its cold breath upon her? When that mouth opened and began to suck, terrible things would happen!... Without daring to look again, she snatched up the children and ran blindly home.

After a while the others returned, the boys storming boisterously into the house, the father close behind; he was evidently chasing them; by the tone of his voice, she knew he was in high spirits.

“Why, Beret,” he cried gayly, as soon as he got inside, “what have you been doing to the windows—covering them up?” He was looking at her with narrow, sparkling eyes. “Beret, Beret, you’re a dear girl!” he whispered. Then he came over and fondled her—he wanted to help undress her and put her to bed....

“No, no—not that!” she cried, vehemently, an intense anger surging up within her. Had he no sense whatever of decency and propriety, no feeling of shame and sin?... That’s only one more proof, she thought, that the devil has us in his clutches!

After that time, Beret was conscious of the face whenever she was awake, but particularly along toward evening, as the twilight came on; then it drew closer to her and seemed alive. Even during the day she would often be aware of its presence; high noon might stand over the prairie, with the sun shedding a flood of light that fairly blinded the sight, but through and behind the light she would see it—huge and horrible it was, the eyes always closed, with only those empty, cavernlike sockets beneath the brows.

As she went about doing her work, now, she would frequently be seized by a faintness so great that she had to sit down.... How was this going to end? she asked herself. Yes, how would it end?... Vague premonitions hovered about her like shadows. Many times she was on the point of asking her husband if he saw what she did, towering above the prairie out west; but always she seemed to be tongue-tied.... Well, why mention it? Couldn’t he and the others see it perfectly well for themselves? How could they help it?... She noticed that a silence would often fall upon them when they were out-of-doors, especially in the evening. Certainly they saw it!... Every evening, now, whether Per Hansa was away or at home, she hung something over the windows—it helped shut out the fear....

At first her husband made all sorts of fun of this practice of hers; he teased her about it, as if it were a good joke, and continued to force his caresses on her, his voice low and vibrant with pent-up emotion. But as time went on he ceased laughing; the fear that possessed her had begun to affect him, too....

VIII

The month of July wore on. The small patches of fields in the Spring Creek settlement were slowly ripening and made a brave showing. Never had one seen finer fields! The grain had started to head out long ago; the kernels were already formed, tiny bodies wrapped in the most delicate green silk. With every day that passed the wheat filled out more and more; the heads grew heavy and full of milk; as soon as the breeze died down in the afternoon, they would tilt toward the setting sun and slowly drop off to sleep, only to dream of the marvellous life that was now stirring within them.

These days, Per Hansa was behaving like a good boat it a heavy sea—as long as the keel pointed the right way, he would go on. He watched his wife covering the windows at night, and felt both sad and angry; but when he saw how everything was growing on the farm—meadows and fields, cattle and youngsters—then he was filled with an exultant joy that made him momentarily forget his wife’s condition. He had a larger field than any of his neighbours, and there wasn’t a doubt that his grain was the finest—theirs was just ordinary dumb grain, while his seemed alive!... He tried to reason himself out of his serious misgivings over Beret. True enough, she didn’t act as a normal person should; yet it was nothing that wouldn’t naturally right itself with time. Perhaps he would go to work and build her a house this fall. By thunder, he’d have to see about that! The castle would have to be tackled sooner or later.... The lumberman at Worthington was a fine fellow, and Per Hansa wouldn’t be ashamed to ask him for credit. Huh! What could the man expect to do with his lumber but sell it?... Next spring he would make a big haul in his fur trade with the Indians; he’d buy every damned scalp they had in the place. And when his castle was ready it would be stranger than the devil if such a sensible girl as Beret didn’t perk up and throw off her gruesome fancies!

Everything he had planted that spring was blooming like a garden. Why, he could just hear the potatoes grow! Already, as early as this, they were having new potatoes every day, while in his neighbours’ patches the plants were just beginning to blossom. The oats, too, were standing high; but the wheat—best of all was the wheat! The neighbours, and all the east-siders—so the folk who had settled east of the creek had come to be called—and even the Irish from over to the westward, would come to look at his wheat field and say that the sight did them good. He couldn’t understand what the Irish were saying, of course, but their joy at the sight of the wheat was written all over their faces.... Damned fine people, these Irish. Too bad he couldn’t talk with them. But he felt like showing his appreciation of their visits in some tangible way, so he would go over to the potato patch, dig into a row, and give them enough for a meal.... Good God! a man as well off as he was must lend a hand to a pack of starving devils!...

By this time Tönseten had lost the last vestige of ill-feeling toward Per Hansa for doing his own seeding; he was even willing to praise the other for having had sense enough to get the seed into the ground good and early. Now they would be able to cut and harvest the wheat here before the other fields had ripened.... “I tell you what, Per Hansa, that’s the most sensible thing you ever did in your life—and I ought to know what I’m talking about!”... Tönseten’s round, fat body bristled with importance, for, of course, it would fall to him to do the reaping for these greenhorns. The Solum boys would have to teach them how to bind. Damn it, he couldn’t be expected to do everything!... Yes, Syvert Tönseten was a very busy man these days. There was the reaper to overhaul, and the harnesses to be mended; he had to keep a sharp eye on the grain, too, lest they let it stand too long. Such heavy wheat would shell easily! So he waddled back and forth between the houses of his three neighbours, invariably finding some important matter to discuss wherever he went.

Per Hansa was not running true to form these days; he who was always so easily excited and never had patience to wait when something had to be done, seemed in no hurry to start his harvesting. Every evening he would make a trip up to the field, to see how the wheat was coming on, and with each trip his mind was more at ease. “Come up with me and see how fine the wheat stands!” he would coax Beret. And Beret would usually go; she would agree absentmindedly that the grain looked fine—of course it did; but then she would always remember some task she had left undone at home and would have to hurry back before dark; she seldom seemed to have time to wait for him.

... “No, no, there’s no hurry yet with the wheat!” Per Hansa thought. When Tönseten insisted that it was time to start cutting he would argue with him: “No, Syvert brother, we’ll leave the wheat awhile yet—give her a spell longer to think it over. You’ll be able to do the reaping easily enough before the others need you. Don’t we all know that your equal in running the reaper isn’t to be found in the whole of Dakota Territory?”

Tönseten would give an embarrassed cough: “You mean perhaps in Minnesota?”

“Certainly! Wasn’t that what I said?” Whereupon both would laugh like a couple of happy boys.

But one forenoon Tönseten came over in great excitement, declaring flatly that now they would have to start cutting here—and no use talking! He had just come from Hans Olsa’s, where he’d been looking at the field; and there, too, the grain was ripening fast. This job had to be gotten out of the way right now, or where the devil would they be?

“Oh, what’s your hurry, Syvert? Don’t let’s get excited; we’ll just give her one more night for extra measure!” argued Per Hansa.

Then Tönseten grew goggle-eyed, waving his arms as he talked. “You’re a stubborn, ignorant fool, Per Hansa—I don’t mind telling you so! No, I’m damned if I do! Here we have eighty acres of grain, and I alone must do all the cutting! In all probability I’ll have to help the east-siders, too; they don’t seem to have any more brains than they need—some of ’em don’t, at least!”

“Take it easy, take it easy, Syvert! Don’t you see how nicely the wheat is filling out—just like a young girl budding into womanhood?”

At that Tönseten got mad in earnest. “You make me tired, man! You don’t know as much as the nose on your face—no, you don’t! What the devil would happen to us if all our grain came in at the same time? Just what would we do, I’d like to know? We couldn’t save it.... Now I’ve made up my mind: there’s to be no more damned shilly-shallying. We start this afternoon, and that’s the end of it!”

“As you say, Captain!” answered Per Hansa, meekly, his eyes twinkling.

“All right, then. I’ll tell Hans Olsa. You run over and tell the Solum boys.”

Per Hansa chuckled aloud. “Are you going to call in all of Dakota Territory to help harvest this little patch of mine?”

“Stop your joking, Per Hansa! You don’t know an earthly thing about harvesting in America—no, you don’t! You and Hans Olsa couldn’t any more take care of the binding, when I once get going, than you could fly! You don’t even know what needs to be done; you’ve never seen a job of binding in your life!... Now do as I tell you and get the Solum boys!”... Tönseten spoke as if the welfare of the whole country were resting on his shoulders. His neighbour only laughed still harder and did as he was bid.

The moment the noon meal was over, the whole of the little settlement assembled at Per Hansa’s wheat field, men, women, and children; Beret had brought And-Ongen with her, and even carried the baby in her arms. Tönseten’s shouts and numberless commands put everyone but himself in a festive mood; he felt it to be a solemn occasion, and highly disapproved of the way they took it; but the others only laughed and joked as gayly as if they were in a bridal procession on the way to church, some bright Sunday morning. Some one would think of a funny remark, which straightway would cause some one else to make a still funnier sally; though most of it was aimed at Tönseten, his wife laughed until the tears came. But Tönseten held himself superior to their silly talk; he had matters of weight and purpose on his mind. Fools will snicker and blat! he observed to himself, working steadily on; that’s the only way one can keep ’em going. He was on his back under the machine, sweating streams, hammering away with a heavy monkey wrench, tightening one bur here and another there; now here was a place that needed oiling.... “What the devil became of the oil can? Can’t you do anything but stand there and grin? Come here and help me!”

But at last he got things so far along that he could hitch the horses to the reaper; taking the lines, he mounted to the throne.

... “Now, the Lord help us!” he muttered to himself. He wanted to give more orders, but couldn’t get a chance; the mosquitoes were bad and the horses rather uneasy, and new things kept happening all the time. With a great flourish he manœuvred the reaper over to the edge of the field, shouted loudly to the horses—and the first harvest in the settlement by Spring Creek had begun.

The machine roared fearfully as it got its belly full of the heavy grain, but kept calling for more; the horses stepped off at a lively pace and gave it what it called for. Tönseten was now intent on cutting out the first swathe; it had to be straight, and yet it couldn’t leave anything along the edge; he was too much taken up with this momentous task even to see the others. But when he had finished the fourth round of the field he felt that he was master of the situation. Stopping the machine, he called in English to Henry Solum—how was he getting along? Could he pound any sense into those idiots? Well, Kjersti had been a smart binder in her day. Why didn’t he get her to help him with the instruction?... And then, turning majestically in his seat, he addressed Per Hansa:

“If this wheat doesn’t run forty bushels to the acre, I’ll eat my own shirt! By God, I will!... Well, anyway, thirty-five....”

“You go on with the cutting, brother!” chuckled Per Hansa. “Here’s a whole army waiting for something to do!... Go on, I say. We’ll measure it up later.”

All were working; all were having a good time. For the greenhorns the binding proved to be more like work than art; they soon caught on to the trick; there were so many of them at it that the binding this afternoon went like a jolly game. When Beret finally put the baby down on the grass and began tying up bundles of wheat Kjersti felt that she had to come over and speak to her. There wasn’t any need of that, she said; the men could easily handle what had to be done. Heavens and earth—five grown men and two boys in a field no bigger than this! Beret and Sörine had better go home and get a lunch ready, Kjersti advised further; the menfolk were never happier than when they had coffee brought to them in the field. She knew them!... After a while the two women followed her advice and went home to make their preparations.

Per Hansa was in a rare mood that afternoon. Now he was binding his own wheat, his hands oily with the sap of the new-cut stems; a fine oil it was, too—he rubbed his hands together and felt a sensuous pleasure welling up within him. His body seemed to grow a little with every bundle he tied; he walked as if on springs; a strength the like of which he had never felt before ran through his muscles. How good it was to be alive! He had made a daring throw, and luck had smiled on him!... He tied the ripe, heavy bundles, gave them a twist, and there stood the shock! As he looked at them he laughed to himself joyously, stopping a second as he finished each one to draw his hands over his face.... He must handle these bundles with care—the heavy kernels might shell out.... How absurdly light-hearted and gay he felt to-day!...

The men continued working until the dew became so heavy on the wheat that the reaping machine refused to go; it was long after sundown before they quit. Tönseten felt stiff and tired, but he wasn’t announcing the fact from the house-tops. In Per Hansa’s hut stood a table heaped with many good things, though the porridge bowls predominated. Both Kjersti and Sörine had been home to do their own chores for the night, and had returned to help Beret with the supper.

The men were already seated at the table; but they waited for Per Hansa, who had his head in the big chest and was hunting for something or other. “Hold on a minute, boys, before you say grace,” came from the cavernous depths of the chest. “Haven’t you manners enough to wait for the head of the family?”... When he finally emerged and came up to the table, he shook a bottle behind Tönseten’s ear, asking, gayly, “Did you ever hear a sweeter sound, Syvert? Can’t you just hear her wink at you, my boy?”... There was enough in the bottle for one round, and then a little drop to swallow on, before the meal started.

Tönseten cleared his throat after the drink; he was anxious to make a little speech:

“What do you plan on doing in the future, Per Hansa, if you’re going to get rich on the very first crop?... I never in my life saw such wheat! Why, the kernels are like potatoes!”

“How about yourself, then?” inquired Per Hansa in great good humour. “I like to help worthy people who are in trouble; in case you and Kjersti should run short of stockings to keep your money in, you might come to me!”

As the meal went on, the spirits of the men sitting about the table rose higher and higher, and each vied with the other in good cheer.

“Rich?” exclaimed Tönseten. “We’ll all get rich; no doubt about it!... It’s going to be hardest on Sam, poor fellow. He’ll have to spend it all in getting married to that fine Trönder girl who’s waiting for him over east by the Sioux River! Hard luck, I say!”

“Yes, sir!” drawled Sam, blushing furiously. “But if I were you, Kjersti, I wouldn’t let Syvert go to the wedding—no, I wouldn’t at all!”

“Why?” laughed Kjersti, innocently.

“Well, you see, he gets sort of strung-up when he’s turned loose among the Trönder women—not that I mean anything, you know....”

“Sam, you’re a fool!” remarked Tönseten, angrily, laying down his spoon and leaving the table.

IX

By noon the next day they had finished the wheat field. To-day Tönseten was of a different mind—there really was no great hurry; the weather kept cool, and the grain didn’t look any riper to-day than yesterday, either at his own place or at Hans Olsa’s; if this spell of cool weather should last, the wheat would profit by yet another week; but then they might prepare to harvest a crop unique in the history of wheat growing.

Tönseten felt highly well pleased with himself and the rest of the world; he had now proved his prowess before his neighbours; the field was almost finished here, and it wouldn’t do any harm to rest and visit awhile.... “Don’t fret, boys, I won’t need to hurry at all! Those four acres of oats will only be play for the afternoon!”

And Per Hansa felt very much the same way. He and the other men were sitting in the shade on the north side of the house, with their backs up against the wall, enjoying the cool breeze that had sprung up from the west.... What was the use of hurrying?... Per Hansa had told the Solum boys that he wouldn’t need them that afternoon, as he and Hans Olsa could easily bind the oats; but it was so pleasant to rest here and spin yarns that the boys didn’t feel like stirring until the others went to the field.

As they got up at last and returned to their work, the northwest breeze struck them full in the face with its cool, fresh fragrance; Tönseten sniffed it approvingly, declaring that if this weather kept on, he and Hans Olsa would be sure to steal a march on Per Hansa in the end; never had the Lord sent finer weather for wheat to ripen in! He chuckled and talked away, his rotund body bobbing up and down with an irresistible merriment.... “Well, boys, in my opinion the Land of Canaan didn’t have much on this country—no, I’m damned if it had! Do you suppose the children of Israel ever smelt a westerly breeze like this? Why, folks, it’s blowing honey!”... His festive mood was still possessing him as he began to hitch up the horses; in the midst of it he had to turn around and ask them shyly, “Now, wasn’t it remarkable that I should discover just this place for you?”

Hans Olsa burst into a laugh. “Yes, it surely was wonderful, Syvert!”

But Tönseten felt that this praise wasn’t enough—he wanted to carry the joke a little farther. Turning to his other neighbour, he asked with the same roguish air, “What did you say, Per Hansa?”

Per Hansa remained strangely silent; he was standing a little distance away, shading his eyes with his right hand and looking into the west; an intent, troubled expression had come over his face.

... “What in the devil?...” he muttered to himself. Off in the western sky he had caught sight of something he couldn’t understand—something that sent a nameless chill through his blood.... Could that be a storm coming on?

He hurried over to the wheat shock where Hans Olsa was sitting, pointed westward, and asked in a low voice, “Tell me, can you see anything over there?”

Hans Olsa was on his feet in an instant.... “Well, look at that!... It must be going to storm!”

Tönseten had finished hitching the horses to the reaper, and had just mounted the seat when he saw Per Hansa run over, pointing to the west. Now both his neighbours were shouting at him:

“What’s that, Syvert?”

Tönseten turned in his seat, to face a sight such as he had never seen or heard before. From out of the west layers of clouds came rolling—thin layers that rose and sank on the breeze; they had none of the look or manner of ordinary clouds; they came in waves, like the surges of the sea, and cast a glittering sheen before them as they came; they seemed to be made of some solid murky substance that threw out small sparks along its face.

The three men stood spellbound, watching the oncoming terror; their voices died in their throats; their minds were blank. The horses snorted as they, too, caught sight of it, and became very restless.

The ominous waves of cloud seemed to advance with terrific speed, breaking now and then like a huge surf, and with the deep, dull roaring sound as of a heavy undertow rolling into caverns in a mountain side.... But they were neither breakers nor foam, these waves.... It seemed more as if the unseen hand of a giant were shaking an immense tablecloth of iridescent colours!...

“For God’s sake, what——!”... Tönseten didn’t finish; unconsciously he had been hauling so hard on the lines that the horses began backing the machine.

Just then Ole and Store-Hans came running wildly up, shouting breathlessly, “A snowstorm is coming!... See!”

... The next moment the first wave of the weird cloud engulfed them, spewing over them its hideous, unearthly contents. The horses became uncontrollable. “Come here and give me some help!” cried Tönseten through the eerie hail, but the others, standing like statues, heard nothing and paid no heed; the impact of the solid surge had forced them to turn their backs to the wind. Tönseten could not hold the horses; they bolted across the field, cutting a wide semicircle through the oats; not until he had the stern of his craft well into the wind could he stop them long enough to scramble down and unhitch them from the reaper.

At that moment two women came running up—Kjersti first, with her skirt thrown over her head, Sörine a little way behind, beating the air with frantic motions. The Solum boys, too, had now joined the terror-stricken little crowd. Down by the creek the grazing cows had hoisted their tails straight in the air and run for the nearest shelter; and no sooner had the horses been turned loose, than they followed suit; man and beast alike were overcome by a nameless fear.

And now from out the sky gushed down with cruel force a living, pulsating stream, striking the backs of the helpless folk like pebbles thrown by an unseen hand; but that which fell out of the heavens was not pebbles, nor raindrops, nor hail, for then it would have lain inanimate where it fell; this substance had no sooner fallen than it popped up again, crackling, and snapping—rose up and disappeared in the twinkling of an eye; it flared and flittered around them like light gone mad; it chirped and buzzed through the air; it snapped and hopped along the ground; the whole place was a weltering turmoil of raging little demons; if one looked for a moment into the wind, one saw nothing but glittering, lightninglike flashes—flashes that came and went, in the heart of a cloud made up of innumerable dark-brown clicking bodies! All the while the roaring sound continued.

“Father!” shrieked Store-Hans through the storm. “They’re little birds—they have regular wings! Look here!”... The boy had caught one in his hand; spreading the wings and holding it out by their tips, he showed it to his father. The body of the unearthly creature had a dark-brown colour; it was about an inch in length, or perhaps a trifle longer; it was plump around the middle and tapered at both ends; on either side of its head sparkled a tiny black eye that seemed to look out with a supernatural intelligence; underneath it were long, slender legs with rusty bands around them; the wings were transparent and of a pale, light colour.

“For God’s sake, child, throw it away!” moaned Kjersti.

The boy dropped it in fright. No sooner had he let it go than there sounded a snap, a twinkling flash was seen, and the creature had merged itself with the countless legions of flickering devils which now filled all space. They whizzed by in the air; they literally covered the ground; they lit on the heads of grain, on the stubble, on everything in sight—popping and glittering, millions on millions of them.... The people watched it, stricken with fear and awe. Here was Another One speaking!...

Kjersti was crying bitterly; Sörine’s kind face was deathly pale as she glanced at the men, trying to bolster up her courage; but the big frame of her husband was bent in fright and dismay. He spoke slowly and solemnly: “This must be one of the plagues mentioned in the Bible!”

“Yes! and the devil take it!” muttered Per Hansa, darkly.... “But it can’t last forever.”

To Tönseten the words of Per Hansa, in an hour like this, sounded like the sheerest blasphemy; they would surely call down upon them a still darker wrath! He turned to reprove his neighbour: “Now the Lord is taking back what he has given,” he said, impressively. “I might have guessed that I would never be permitted to harvest such wheat. That was asking too much!”

“Stop your silly gabble!” snarled Per Hansa. “Do you really suppose He needs to take the bread out of your mouth?”

There was a certain consolation in Per Hansa’s outburst of angry rationalism; Kjersti ceased weeping, though it was her own husband that had been put to shame. “I believe Per Hansa is right,” she said, the sobs still choking her. “The Lord can’t have any use for our wheat. He doesn’t need bread, anyway. He certainly wouldn’t take it from us in this way!”

But her open unbelief only confirmed her husband in his position; clearing his throat, he began to take Kjersti to task: “Don’t you remember your catechism, and your Bible history. Isn’t it plainly stated that this is one of the seven plagues that fell upon Egypt? Look out for your tongue, woman, lest He send us the other six, too!... It states as plain as day that it was because the people hardened themselves!”...

Tönseten would probably have gone on indefinitely expounding the Scriptures to his wife if Henry Solum hadn’t interrupted just then with a practical idea. Turning to his brother, he said, “Go fetch the horses, so we can finish this field; by to-morrow there won’t be anything left!”

Per Hansa looked at Henry and nodded approvingly; the simple practicability of the suggestion had touched the chord of action again; he jumped to his feet and walked across to the field, where the work of devastation was already in full progress. As he saw the fine, ripe grain being ruthlessly destroyed before his eyes, he felt but one impulse—to stop the inroads of these demons in any possible way. He began to jump up and down and wave his hat, stamping and yelling like one possessed. But the hosts of horrid creatures frolicking about him never so much as noticed his presence; the brown bodies whizzed by on every hand, alighting wherever they pleased, chirping wherever they went; as many as half a dozen of them would perch on a single head of grain, while the stem would be covered with them all the way to the ground; even his own body seemed to be a desirable halting place; they lit on his arms, his back, his neck—they even dared to light on his bared head and on the very hat he waved.

His utter impotence in the face of this tragedy threw him into an uncontrollable fury; he lost all restraint over himself. “You, Ola!” he shouted, hoarsely. “Run home after Old Maria, and bring the caps!”

The boy was soon back with the old musket. His father, hardly able to wait, ran to meet him and snatched the weapon out of his hands. Hurriedly putting on a cap, he settled himself in a firm foothold—for he still had sense enough to remember how hard the rifle kicked when it had been lying loaded a long time.

As Hans Olsa caught wind of what he intended to do he tried to stop it. “Don’t do that, Per Hansa! If the Lord has sent this affliction on us, then....”

Per Hansa glowered at him with a look of angry determination; then, facing squarely the hurricane of flying bodies, he fired straight into the thickest of the welter!... The awful detonation of the old, rusty muzzle-loader had a singular effect; at first, as the shattering sound died away, nothing appeared to have happened—the glittering demons flickered by as unconcernedly as before; but presently a new movement seemed to originate within the body of the main cloud; it began to heave and roll with a lifting motion; in a few minutes the cloud had left the ground and was sailing over their heads, with only an intermittent hail of bodies pelting down on them out of its lower fringe; the roaring becoming more muffled.

“Do you suppose you’ve actually driven them off?” cried Henry, breathlessly, marvelling as he watched.

“Yes, from here!” said Hans Olsa in the same solemn tone, as he pointed down the hill. “But see our fields...!”

Per Hansa was still in the grip of the strange spell that had taken possession of him; he apparently did not hear what the others were saying; without looking again he hurried off to help Sam with the horses. “Let’s get the reaper started!” he cried. “No sense in sitting here like a row of dummies!”

His example roused them once more, and without further words they followed his lead; just before sundown that night they finished the oat field at Per Hansa’s. All the while fresh clouds of marauders were passing over. As soon as he could get away each man hurried to his own place; they were all terribly anxious to see how much damage had been done at home.... Couldn’t they start cutting to-morrow, even if the grain wasn’t quite ripe? they thought as they hurried on. Wouldn’t it be possible to save something out of the wreck? What in God’s name could they do if the whole crop were destroyed?... Anxiety tugged at their heartstrings. Yes, what could they do?...

Ole and Store-Hans went home with Hans Olsa to bring back word as to whether it would be possible to start harvesting his field in the morning. Per Hansa walked home alone; the spell had lifted now, and the reaction had left him in a troubled, irresolute frame of mind. The things that had happened that afternoon seemed harsh and inexplicable.... To be sure, he had saved his whole crop—but how and why? He had saved it—partly because of his own foolish, headstrong acts, and partly because his land chanced to lie so much higher than that of his neighbours, that it had been the first to dry out in the spring.... Well, great luck for him! But at this moment gladness and happiness were the last things that he could feel.... There were his neighbours—poor devils! Hadn’t they worked just as faithfully, hadn’t they struggled just as hard—and with a great deal more common sense than he had shown? Why should they have to suffer this terrible calamity while he went scot-free?... And there was something else that worried him desperately. Throughout the afternoon, while he had been working, vague misgivings of how it was going at home had visited him, an uneasy sense of oppression and impending disaster; he had found himself constantly watching his own house, and had every moment expected to see Beret come around the corner. But not a soul had he caught sight of in all this time, moving about down there, though the hard labour and the fiends of the air had left him scant chance to think about it till now.

As he approached the house his misgivings grew more pronounced, till suddenly they leaped into an overmastering fear which he tried to assuage by telling himself that she had kept indoors because she had not dared to leave the children, and that in doing so she had acted wisely.... The house lay in deep twilight as he drew near; there was no sign of life to be seen or heard, except the malign beings that still snapped and flared through the air; the sod hut, surrounded as it was by flowing shapes, looked like a quay thrust out into a turbulent current; in the deepening twilight, the pale, shimmering sails of the flying creatures had taken on a still more unearthly sheen; they came, flickered by, and were gone in an instant, only to give place to myriads more.

... Can she have gone over to one of the neighbours’? he wondered as he came up to the door. No, she hasn’t—the door can’t be closed from the outside.... Per Hansa gasped for breath as he knocked on the door of his own house.... He rapped harder... called, with his voice tearing from his throat:

“Open the door, Beret!”

He found himself listening intently, his ears strained to catch the least sound; at length he thought he heard a movement inside, and a great wave of relief swept over him.

... “Thank God!”... He waited for the door to be opened—but nothing happened; nothing more could be heard.... What can she be doing? Didn’t she hear me? What in Heaven’s name has she put in front of the door?...

Per Hansa had begun to shove against the panel.

“Open the door, I tell you!... Beret—where are you?”...

Once more he listened; once more he caught a faint sound; but the blood pounding in his ears deafened him now. Pulling himself together, he shoved against the door with all his strength—shoved until red streaks were flashing before his eyes. The door began to give—the opening widened; at last he had pushed it wide enough to slip through.

... “Beret!”... The anguish of his cry cut through the air.... “Beret!”...

Now he stood in the middle of the room. It was absolutely dark before his eyes; he looked wildly around, but could see nothing.

... “Beret, where are you?”...

No answer came—there was no one to be seen. But wasn’t that a sound? “Beret!” he called again, sharply. He heard it now distinctly. Was it coming from one of the beds, or over there by the door?... It was a faint, whimpering sound. He rushed to the beds and threw off the bedclothes—no one in this one, no one in that one—it must be over by the door!... He staggered back—the big chest was standing in front of the door. Who could have dragged it there?... Per Hansa flung the cover open with frantic haste. The sight that met his eyes made his blood run cold. Down in the depths of the great chest lay Beret, huddled up and holding the baby in her arms; And-Ongen was crouching at her feet—the whimpering sound had come from her.

It seemed for a moment as if he would go mad; the room swam and receded in dizzy circles.... But things had to be done. First he lifted And-Ongen out and carried her to the bed—then the baby. At last he took Beret up in his arms, slammed down the lid of the chest, and set her on it.

... “Beret, Beret!”... he kept whispering.

All his strength seemed to leave him as he looked into her tear-swollen face; yet it wasn’t her tears that drained his heart dry—the face was that of a stranger, behind which her own face seemed to be hidden.

He gazed at her helplessly, imploringly; she returned the gaze in a fixed stare, and whispered hoarsely:

“Hasn’t the devil got you yet? He has been all around here to-day.... Put the chest back in front of the door right away! He doesn’t dare to take the chest, you see.... We must hide in it—all of us!”

“Oh, Beret!” begged Per Hansa, his very soul in the cry. Speechless and all undone, he sank down before her, threw his arms around her waist, and buried his head in her lap—as if he were a child needing comfort.

The action touched her; she began to pat his head, running her fingers through his hair and stroking his cheek.... “That’s right!” she crooned.... “Weep now, weep much and long because of your sin!... So I have done every night—not that it helps much.... Out here nobody pays attention to our tears... it’s too open and wild... but it does no harm to try.”

“Oh, Beret, my own girl!”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she said, as if to hush him. She grew more loving, caressed him tenderly, bent over to lift him up to her.... “Don’t be afraid, dear boy of mine!... For... well... it’s always worst just before it’s over!”

Per Hansa gazed deep into her eyes; a sound of agony came from his throat; he sank down suddenly in a heap and knew nothing more....

Outside, the fiendish shapes flickered and danced in the dying glow of the day. The breeze had died down; the air seemed unaccountably lighter.

... That night the Great Prairie stretched herself voluptuously; giantlike and full of cunning, she laughed softly into the reddish moon. “Now we will see what human might may avail against us!... Now we’ll see!”...

X

And now had begun a seemingly endless struggle between man’s fortitude in adversity, on the one hand, and the powers of evil in high places, on the other. There were signs of the scourge in the summer of ’73, but not before the following year did it assume the proportions of a plague; after that it raged with unabated fury throughout the years ’74, ’75, ’76, ’77, and part of ’78; then it disappeared as suddenly and mysteriously as it had come. The devastation it wrought was terrible; it made beggars of some, and drove others insane; still others it sent wandering back to the forest lands, though they found conditions little better there, either.... But the greater number simply hung on where they were. They stayed because poverty, that most supreme of masters, had deprived them of the liberty to rise up and go away. And where would they have gone? In the name of Heaven, whither would they have fled?

In the course of time it came about that fresh inroads of settlers, just as poverty-stricken as they were, arrived to help them suffer privation and to wait for better times.... Beautiful out here on the wide prairie—yes, beautiful indeed!... The finest soil you ever dreamed of—a veritable Land of Canaan!... One caravan after another came creaking along, a single wagon dropping out to settle here, another to settle there; for it really looked wonderful, this vast expanse of level, smiling plain—the new Promised Land into which the Lord was leading His poor people from all the corners of the earth!...

But the plague of locusts proved as certain as the seasons. All that grew above the ground, with the exception of the wild grass, it would pounce upon and destroy; the grass it left untouched because it had grown here ere time was and without the aid of man’s hand....

Who would dare affirm that this plague was not of supernatural origin? During the spring season, and throughout the early part of the summer, the air would be as pure and clear as if it had been filtered, wrapping and caressing the body like the finest silk; the sky would be as blue as if it had been scoured and newly painted; everything planted in the ground by man would grow as if by magic, filling out with an amazing fruitfulness, as the long warm days passed in endless array, until it bent under its own burden. And then, just as the process of ripening had begun, or perhaps a little before, the plague would descend upon them, suddenly, mysteriously, disastrously! On a certain bright, sunny day, when the breeze sighed its loveliest out of the northwest, strange clouds would appear in the western sky; swiftly they would advance, floating lazily through the clear air, a sight beautiful to behold. But these clouds would be made up of innumerable dark-brown bodies with slender legs, sailing on transparent wings; in an instant the air would be filled with nameless, unclean creatures—legions on legions of them, hosts without number! Now pity the fields that the hand of man had planted with so much care! And the ruthless marauders invariably came out of the clear northwest where the afternoon glow was brightest, most marvellous; more than often toward evening, when the day was sinking to rest and all earth seemed at peace, they would come. To these wandering Norsemen, the old adage that all evil dwells below and springs from the north, was proving true again.21

During the summer of their first visitation, the demons left behind them evil enough to pollute a whole continent. In the plowed fields they laid tiny, frail eggs, having the appearance of fine dry sawdust; although they seemed so delicate, these eggs would lie there unharmed during the wet fall season, and all through the winter, embedded in ice and covered by many feet of snow, thawing and freezing by turns in the early spring; but when the hot sun of summer had warmed them for a while they would suddenly burst open, letting loose a host of voracious, crawling devils. This phenomenon called to mind another saying: No evil is quite so bad as that which man himself fosters. It seemed to be true enough in this case; for these little wriggling demons were not only revoltingly nasty to look at, but they also caused an even greater devastation than those which came flying on the wings of the western breeze.

Not that these others ceased coming now, because man had raised a crop of his own—God, no! It would happen for days at a time, during the height of the pest season, that one could not see clear sky. But not always did the scourge choose to descend; often the locust clouds would come drifting across the sun, very much like streamers of snow, floating lazily by for days on end; then, all of a sudden, as if overcome by their own neglect, they would swoop down, dashing and spreading out like an angry flood, slicing and shearing, cutting with greedy teeth, laying waste every foot of the field they lighted in. At last, perhaps by the time the next afternoon’s breeze had risen, they would apparently take the notion that this wasn’t a fit place to stay in; in a moment they would fly up and be gone in a great cloud, off on the search for new conquests.

Impossible to outguess them! No creatures ever acted so whimsically or showed such a lack of rational, orderly method. One field they might entirely lay waste, while they ate only a few rods into the next; a third, lying close beside the others, they might not choose to touch at all. In one field they would cut the stalks, leaving the ground strewn with a green carpet of heads; in the next they might content themselves with shearing the beard—then the grain looked like shorn sheep with the ears gone. Nor were they at all fastidious: potatoes and vegetables of all kinds, barley and oats, wheat and rye—it made no difference; or a swarm of insects might light on a wagon box, and when it lifted again the box would have been scarred by countless sharp teeth; at one place a fork with a handle of hickory might be standing in the ground, and after a few swarms had passed the surface of the handle would be rasped and chewed, a mass of loose slivers; somewhere else a garment might be laid out on the ground to dry—a swarm would light on it, and in a moment only shreds would be left; if the annihilating devils were in the proper mood, they would take anything and leave nothing.

The folk looked on helplessly, in grim despair and awe-stricken wonder; the more timid ones among them were oppressed by a growing fear, while the godless swore so that the air smelled of brimstone; the pious would assemble in homes and churches, entreating the Lord to deliver them from famine and pestilence; but the brave did not lose heart, and kept on busily inventing all sorts of devices with which to drive the demons away. Many odd expedients were tried in different places; simple-minded people would take a washtub and a rolling pin, and beat until they were tired, but never a ripple did such a din cause in the current’s steady flow.

And all the while the folk tried to comfort one another.... It will be better by-and-by, you know!... This plague must leave some time—it can’t go on forever!... The Sognings were a people of even temperament, not easily flustered; they bore the affliction with remarkable calmness and fortitude. Of course this thing would have to stop! They had faith to believe it—how could it well be otherwise?... And their cousins, the Vossings, would always agree with them. Yes, indeed! Why, such things always seem hardest to bear at the first—don’t we know that?... Some one would think of a hallowed consolation with which to comfort the others. Wasn’t it pretty bad in Egypt?—But what did the Book say? Didn’t the plague vanish there? Why, it had lasted practically no time at all!... I’ll bet my last dollar, some one else would venture, that next year everything will be all right!... And when it turned out to be just as bad the following year, the same person would be even more confident. Now, see—we’ve had this thing with us two years already—this is the end! Who ever heard of a plague lasting forever? Don’t you remember the Black Death? That finished up in half a year, didn’t it, and was never heard of again?... And even when the third summer came, and there was no let-up in the awful visitation, some bright head would remember the indisputable fact that all good things are three. So there!—Now let’s thank the Lord that we’re through with it at last! Just wait awhile—the soil out here is first class; if we hang on, we’re sure to make a clean sweep!... On the fourth summer the plague raged worse than ever before; but now it had begun to lose its power over the people—they feared it no longer. We’re getting used to it, they would say with a bitter laugh. It takes neither man nor beast—let’s thank God for that, anyway!...