6
As the other children trooped out, Arne pretended to be deep in his work. Let them go then, and have a good time. What did they care about his troubles? They didn’t have a brother out on the stormy sea and a worried family at home. Let them go, and see if he cared! But he did care, tremendously. There was a lump in his throat he couldn’t swallow.
Bergel passed his seat and touched his shoulder gently. He shrugged off her hand, but she slid it down toward his and left a piece of paper there. He acted as if he didn’t see it, for he was hurt and disappointed and angry. Probably just a note saying he should have been more careful. He wouldn’t even look at it.
The shouting and laughter died away at last, and Arne looked gloomily down at his books. He felt more like crying than doing exercises. But of course he was too big to do a thing like that. If only Herr Engstrand hadgiven him anything but English grammar to do! He must know how Arne disliked that. Arithmetic, now—he could have got that done in a hurry and maybe he could have caught up with the others. But English grammar! And two long exercises! He’d never get those done.
Suddenly he remembered another trip up the mountain—the summer trip, when he had thought he would have to stay home to balelutfisk. With Gustav’s help, he had got that job done in time to go with the others. No one was here to help him now, but perhaps he could get this job done himself and follow the others. His usual hopefulness began to come to his rescue. Herr Engstrand hadn’t said he couldn’t come on the trip. He had only said he must finish the exercises before he left.
Arne turned to his books in earnest, now. He knew how to do that first sentence, anyway. Maybe this wasn’t such a hard exercise, after all. He was half through it, his spirits rising as he worked, when his hopes fell again. He didn’t know the way to the Utvig saeter, and he was well enough acquainted with mountains to realize that a snowy day in December was no time to strike out on unfamiliar ways.
He gave a deep sigh and turned back to his work. No use to try to get it done fast. It didn’t matter when hefinished. But he went doggedly on, and a sudden thought came to him. Bergel had certainly looked as if she wanted to tell him something. He picked up the note, his face brightening as he read: “Utvig saeter is above ours. Go up the Ahlness trail, then take the left fork where there are three saeter cabins.” She had even scrawled a little map. With fresh energy, Arne bent to his lesson.
The schoolroom clock had ticked an hour away when the boy laid his exercises on Herr Professor’s desk. He put on his skis, settled his knapsack on his back, and set off on his trip up the mountain through the falling snow.
The boy felt confident and light-hearted as he hastened up toward his uncle’s saeter. Though the familiar landmarks looked different in their winter dress, he could recognize them without difficulty. He knew he was making better time alone than the others could in a large company. As he sped along he began to hope he might overtake them, or at least get there in time to help bring in the greens.
The snow, which fell heavily at first, began to slacken a little. He managed to go along at a steady pace, but it seemed a long time before he came out where Uncle Jens’s cabin faced the fjord. The little log house lookedforlorn with all its windows boarded over for winter, and Arne was anxious to hurry on. Far out at sea he could detect the faint light of a ship. He wondered if it could possibly be theStjerne.
The snow had stopped now, and strong winds blew in steadily from the sea. Dusk had closed in, and Arne shivered as he stood there, not sure how to go ahead. “Take the Ahlness trail,” Bergel’s note had said. There was more than one path zigzagging about up here, he knew, but as far as he could remember, there was only one good trail that led way up the mountain. That must be the one. Those folks up there ahead must have left plenty of tracks. But he had difficulty in finding them because of the drifting snow. At last, however, with the aid of his flashlight, he did manage to find some traces.
If only Bergel had said how far it was! It seemed to Arne that the way was much longer than he had expected it to be. Though he got out his flashlight often, he didn’t see anything of three saeter cabins in a cluster, to say nothing of a fork in the trail. The way was very steep in places, and he did wish those tracks were plainer.
And now he had come to a place where the snow was so drifted he couldn’t see any tracks at all. He was uncertain what to do, which way to take, and almostwished he had never started on this difficult journey alone.
Then he looked up toward the mountain top, and just above it, where the wind had ripped the clouds apart, he saw one bright star shining. Christmas star again, thought Arne, and felt a little better. He pressed on and at last came to the three small houses. Now for the fork in the trail!
But he could not make out any tracks in the drifted snow, and there didn’t seem to be any real trail, though there was a break in the bushes here. He’d start that way. But he hadn’t gone far when he was brought up short by a great boulder in the way. This certainly could not be the trail. He went back and started again, but this time a thicket of bushes blocked the path. Perhaps, after all, he had come the wrong way. Perhaps those three cabins were not the ones Bergel had meant. His heart was thumping. What if he was lost in these mountains?
He stood there straining his eyes in the gray darkness. If only he could catch some gleam of the campfire! He could see no sign of light on the dark mountain, but as he stood, trying to think of something he could do, a familiar sound came down to him—a long-drawn blastthat could only come from a saeter horn. Someone was certainly sending him a signal, and he felt sure it was Bergel.
Arne stood still, trying to determine just where that call had come from. As he waited, it came again, over and over. The star would be a good guide now, for the horn’s blast had come from exactly that direction. Now, a little to the left, he found a way through the thicket; with the help of the horn and of his bright star, he forged steadily ahead.
At last, to his great relief and delight, he caught sight of a glimmer of light above him. Soon he began to hear voices in the distance—faint at first, then louder. Now he could hear calls and shouts and laughter and bits of song, and above all, the sound of the horn.
In a few moments the full brightness of the campfire burst upon him. He saw people scurrying about; but one small, valiant figure caught his eye and warmed his heart. It was Bergel, standing in the firelight, the long saeter horn at her lips. She blew a blast that Arne felt must be heard clear down at Nordheim, and he almost felt like giving her a hug. Instead he skied silently to her side and stood there grinning. “Calling someone, Bergel?” he asked.
“Arne!” she cried, and threw both arms around him. “Oh, I was so worried! I knew you’d try to come, and then it snowed so hard for a while, and drifted so, and you didn’t know the way. How did you ever manage to find it?” Her tone showed plainly that she considered that quite a feat.
“Well, you helped,” said Arne. He slipped awayfrom her embrace, but his voice was gentle. “And then I guess the Christmas star helped, too.” He nodded to where the bright star shone among drifting clouds.
“You see! Isn’t that a good sign?” said Bergel triumphantly. “And now you’re in time to help with the greens, Arne. The boys have gone up there just a little ways. Got your hunting knife?”
“Do you suppose I’d come up here without it?” asked Arne. But he smiled at her, and she smiled back before she turned to help with the supper.
Everyone was glad to see Arne, though nobody said much about it. He pulled his silver-handled hunting knife from the sheath at his belt and was soon in the thick of the work, helping cut branches and put them in bundles.
In spite of himself, his respect for Herr Professor Engstrand increased as he watched him directing and helping. The teacher had obtained permission to take what they needed, and seemed to know exactly how to go about getting it. When he climbed easily up a big tree, Arne could hardly believe his eyes. Was this the same dignified man who didn’t seem to be interested in anything but books and lessons and keeping order?
Eager to do his part now that he was here, Arne went right up to a treetop to get some specially finebranches with clusters of cones. When he came nimbly down, he saw, with some dismay, that the other boys had gone on and that only Herr Engstrand was at hand. He was probably in for a good scolding now, but surely Herr Professor wouldn’t send him home when he had toiled so hard to get up here alone.
Arne started to run after the other boys, but the teacher took two or three long strides, laid a hand on his shoulder, and turned him around. “Just a minute, my boy,” he said. “I have something to say to you.”
Arne’s heart seemed to go right down into his boots. “Yes, sir,” he managed to mumble. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come, but I—well, I did my exercises first, and I didn’t think you said—” His voice trailed miserably off.
“I didn’t say you shouldn’t come,” said the teacher in a matter-of-fact tone. “In fact, I hoped you would, though I didn’t feel I could encourage you to do so, in view of the weather and the distance. Of course I know it takes more than a snowstorm to keep a Norwegian boy off a mountain. In fact, people say mountains and snow are all a Norwegian needs for fun. But I didn’t think you knew the way here.”
“I didn’t really, but—” Arne began and then stopped short, uncertain and embarrassed. He certainlycould not tell Herr Professor about Bergel’s note. How could he explain?
Herr Engstrand was going on, “But your cousin told me—” He stopped so long that Arne looked up and, to his great surprise, saw that his teacher was smiling a little. “She is a conscientious little girl, as well as a good pupil, and I think she felt she might not have done right. And then, too, I think she began to get worried about you. So she told me about leaving you the note. And I’ll admit we were all a little anxious when you did not arrive.”
“Those grammar exercises,” said Arne, with a gusty sigh. “They took quite a while. But who thought of the saeter horn? That was a life-saver.”
“It was Bergel who thought of that, and Froken Utvig found it for her. Bergel told me something else, Arne. She told me why you had been late those times. I should have been glad if you had told me yourself.”
“You would?” exclaimed Arne in astonishment, and added, with complete honesty, “I never thought of that.”
Herr Engstrand dropped his hand from Arne’s shoulder. “I see,” was all he said, but his voice made Arne think of the way he himself sometimes felt when he tried very hard to do something and did not succeed.
That tone made Arne want to mend matters, and hehurried on, “I didn’t know you’d be interested, but I guess you are. So I want to tell you why I was late this noon. Bergel didn’t know about that. I saw a ship way out in the storm and I thought it might be Gustav’s. And from Uncle Jens’s saeter I could still see the lights of a ship a good ways out.”
“I see,” Herr Engstrand said again. But this time his tone was quite different. “A ship would have a hard time making port in a sea like this.”
Arne looked up at him in alarm. “Oh, Herr Professor Engstrand!” he exclaimed. “Do you suppose—what if Gustav’s ship got nearly home only to be dashed to pieces on the rocks?”
“Of course the chances are it was not theStjerneat all,” said Herr Engstrand. His voice was thoughtful.
“Oh, I wish that wind would go down,” said Arne fervently. “There aren’t even any stars out, now.”
“Well, Arne, these Norwegian skippers know our coast pretty well, don’t forget that. And from what I hear, Captain Olsen is a fine navigator. Come, Bergel is blowing the horn again. That is the signal for supper.”
Arne gathered with the others around the great fire piled high in the kitchen fireplace. Froken Utvig and the girls had scrubbed a long table, laid a bright clothover it, and spread it with gaily-decorated sandwiches and cakes. Everyone was hungry and ready for the good food and the singing.
There were Christmas songs first, and folk songs followed. Then everyone stood to sing the national anthem:
“Yes, we love with fond devotionNorway’s mountain domes,Rising storm-lashed o’er the oceanWith their thousand homes.”
“Yes, we love with fond devotionNorway’s mountain domes,Rising storm-lashed o’er the oceanWith their thousand homes.”
“Yes, we love with fond devotionNorway’s mountain domes,Rising storm-lashed o’er the oceanWith their thousand homes.”
“Yes, we love with fond devotion
Norway’s mountain domes,
Rising storm-lashed o’er the ocean
With their thousand homes.”
“‘Storm-lashed’ is right,” thought Arne. But he loved the fine old anthem, just as the others did, and joined in the singing with all his heart.
“I think those songs all but lifted the roof,” said Froken Utvig, smiling. “But now, as it is still snowy and drifting, and the wind is strong, we had better start home.”
Everyone hurried about—putting out the fire, getting things in order. Arne was as busy as anyone, but he couldn’t help thinking about theStjerne. What if she was tossing about out there, very close to the rocky shore, driven by the wind? What if Gustav should be almost in port, only to have his ship go down tonight?
His face was troubled as he bent to fasten his skis, but he looked up quickly as Herr Professor came overto him and said, “Arne, I want you to help me with some of these greens. Can you carry a load as big as this, do you think? We’ll fasten it on your back if you can.”
Ordinarily Arne would have been proud of such a request, for the load was a large one. But tonight he had planned to rush ahead with all speed and see if it could be possible that his brother’s ship had come in. He couldn’t make much time with such a load. But he could do nothing but answer, “Yes, sir, I can.”
“Good boy,” said Herr Engstrand. “Now, Arne, I want you to stay behind with me just a little. I have one or two things to do.”
“Yes, sir,” said Arne, but his disappointment showed so plainly that Herr Professor said, “What is it, boy?”
“It’s my brother’s ship, sir,” said Arne, in a low tone. “I thought she might have come in. I wanted to—”
“Yes, yes, I see. Well, Arne, that’s why I want you to stay behind. An idea has occurred to me—a way you and I may be able to help your brother. I have told Froken Utvig to let some of the big boys guide the party.”
“Yes, sir,” said Arne again, but this time he was thoroughly puzzled. How could he and Herr Engstrand up here on the mountain possibly be of any help to Gustav out there on the stormy sea?