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A COUNCIL OF WAR
THE next day, the whole of Carfoos was up in arms, for though Freskel had told no one but Pastor Oshart that his brother were concerned in the night attack on the woodcutter's cottage, Dorlat and Hervitz were held in such ill repute, that as soon as the news reached the village that Grubert Reuss' house had been forcibly entered, suspicion had at once fallen upon them. Indeed, so vehement in their indignation were the villagers that the old pastor could hardly restrain them from making a raid upon the dwelling of the Valdens, and laying violent hands upon the two young men and upon their father also, for Jaspar Valden was accounted no better than his sons, though, being seldom abroad, he was not so well-known by sight.
"It is time that our village was rid of this family of evil-doers," said one of the men in council. "They are lawless enough to have descended in a direct line from the dreadful pirate band that are said to have settled here so long ago, and stored their treasure in the Isle of Ghosts."
"It is so," assented another; "and I propose that we take the law into our own hands, and punish these men as they deserve. But you, Pastor Oshart, it seems to us that you know more about them than you care to say. Why do you keep silence among us, when perhaps you have positive proof of the guilt of the brothers Valden, and possibly of old Jaspar also, in this matter of breaking forcibly into a man's homestead in search of plunder?"
"I have no proof that I should be justified in bringing forward at present," replied the old man, who could not suffer Freskel to witness against the members of his own family, and who had not yet heard the story of the siege of the cottage from the lips of Tonie and Blonda. "Nor, my people, would I counsel you to punish these men for violence with violence, however much they may seem to deserve such treatment at our hands. At the same time, I feel with you that a peaceful village and godly community cannot longer suffer in its midst the presence of such a family. Therefore my advice would be that you should depute one of your number on whose wisdom and self-control you can rely to go to the Valdens, and to tell them, in the name of the inhabitants of Carfoos, that we desire, nay, that we require them to leave this neighbourhood in the course, say, of a week, and that if they refuse to do as we wish, we must call in the aid of the police, and, collecting all possible evidence against them, have them punished by the law."
"Pastor Oshart, your counsel is wise. I propose that we do as you suggest," said the oldest villager present.
"And I would add," said another, "that our good pastor be elected to undertake to be our messenger and ambassador to the Valden family. We have no one amongst us in whom we have such confidence, or for whom we cherish so great esteem."
"It is true. So be it, then. Let the pastor be our ambassador!" shouted a score of voices.
"Yet bethink you a moment, my friends," said Rolf Bresser, who had arrived at Carfoos early that morning, and joined the little company collected at the pastor's house. "It is true that so far as you yourselves are concerned, it is well that the pastor should be your messenger. But none of you seem to have thought whether this mission would not be difficult and perhaps even dangerous, for the ambassador himself. Though I am not one of you, I have some right to speak now, since, innocently, I am the cause of the late disturbance which has brought things to a crisis; for it was I that entrusted the bag of money to Pastor Oshart's care, fancying—and probably not without reason—that the brothers Valden had come to know of it, and might rob me ere I could quit the neighbourhood. The pastor, in his turn, having the same feeling, and wishing to secure the safety of the property entrusted to him, stole away, under cover of night, to the woodcutter's cottage, and in that humble abode, where it might well be considered safe, left the bag of coin.
"Reuss himself was not at home, but the treasure was safely hidden away, and nothing occurred to disturb the little guardians that night. Two nights later, however, after the good pastor had brought the children news of their father's accident at Klingengolf, the cottage was broken into, and but for the courage and timely help of one whom I may not name here, the money entrusted to me for the poor of my village would have been carried away. In some fashion best known to themselves, the Valdens must have come to suspect that the bag of coin was no longer in the custody of the pastor; indeed, they may have followed him on his second visit to Grubert's cottage, mistaking the motive for it.
"Knowing of the woodcutter's absence from home, the men doubtless expected to have no trouble in effecting an entrance and seeing for themselves whether the money were there or no. Well, as we know, the robbers entered indeed, but the rest of their evil intent was frustrated. My friend, your pastor, tells me this morning that the money is hidden in a safe place, and as for the children of Grubert Reuss, they are no longer to stay alone in the cottage in the forest, but will remain with the pastor until their father's return. But now, to come back to the point from which I started," continued Rolf; "think you, indeed, that, after all that has passed, your pastor will be a welcome visitor at Jaspar Valden's home? Remember there are old grudges out against him for his faithful warnings in the past. And now there is this new trouble. What greeting, think you, he will receive?"
"You are right, Rolf Bresser!" cried several voices at once. "Our pastor shall not go. We will not expose him to insult or worse."
"Peace, children," said the old man tranquilly. "It is my duty, and I have no misgivings. I thank thee, Rolf, and you, my people, for your thought of me, but your kindness cannot alter the thing that is right. I accept the embassage, and this evening I go to the Valdens. And as for thee, Rolf, my friend, since thou dost not commence thy journey until the morrow, come thou and sup with Tonie and Blonda Reuss and me, and take care, during my absence afterwards, of these lambs of my flock, who must be left no longer unshepherded, a prey to the prowling wolf of the night."
After supper, good Pastor Oshart was about to set out on his unpleasant errand, when Blonda came down the stairs with her cloak and hood on.
"What is this, child?" asked the old man. "Whither goest thou so late? Why, it is time almost that all good little maids were asleep."
"I would go with you, dear pastor," replied Blonda, smiling up in his face.
"With me, little one? Nay, that must not be. Knowest thou whither I am bound?"
"Yes, surely," said Blonda. "You go to the Valdens."
"And that is no place for thee, my lamb; stay here with Tonie and my good Rolf till I return. Go, take off thy things, Blonda."
"They said you might be in danger, dear pastor," sobbed Blonda, "and I thought I might perhaps help you. Or if I could not help—being so small—at least I could share your danger, as my dear father would have done had he been here. It is so hard you should go all alone."
"Little one, I am not alone," replied the old man, smiling. "Knowest thou not, Blonda, that they who are in the path of duty have ever with them the presence of Him, the Beloved, who said to His disciples in the old time, 'Lo, I am with you alway'?
"So, my child, fear not for me. What, must I pray for thee as Elisha prayed for his servant, that thine eyes may be opened, and that thou mayest see that they which are with me are more than those which are against me? Nay, my dear little maid, wipe away those tears, but pray that I, thine old pastor, may speak wise words and brave and true, giving a message, not only from the people of Carfoos, but from Him Whose I am and Whom I serve."
So saying, the good old minister laid a gentle hand in blessing on Blonda's little fair head, then he opened the door and passed out into the night.
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BEARDING THE LIONS IN THEIR DEN
"MAY I enter?" said Pastor Oshart.
He had knocked several times at the door of the Valdens' cottage, but there was so much noise inside that he could not be heard. So at last he opened the door, and standing on the threshold, faced the three men, who turned toward him as he spoke.
"You here, Master Oshart! Truly, this is a day of marvels! Pray what will you with us?" asked Jaspar, with a frown.
"Ay," screamed the shrill, mocking voice of Hervitz, "what dealings can this saint of Carfoos have with us sinful Valdens?"
"I come on urgent business," replied the pastor, with grave gentleness. "Have I your permission to come in and tell my errand?"
"Oh, come in, come in, of course, most righteous prophet and teacher!" sneered Dorlat. "Think you that we could be so wanting in courtesy as to keep our best of friends outside our door? Why, bethink thee, father, and thou, brother Hervitz, what reason we have for loving and reverencing this holy man! We have not forgotten—have we—what we owed him in the past?"
"Nay, that have we not!" cried Hervitz, with a laugh. "And no one can say of us that we pay not our debts."
"Peace, Hervitz!" said Jaspar. "Let us hear the man's business; though, all the same, Pastor Oshart, you are somewhat over-bold to come thus into the lions' den."
The old minister smiled. "My God hath shut the lions' mouths ere this," he said quietly; "and what he did for His servant Daniel of old He could do now, if it so pleased Him. The Lord's arm is not shortened that it cannot save."
"There speaks the cant of your cloth!" piped the piercing voice of Hervitz. "Lucky for you if you need not to put your God to the test!"
"Master Jasper Valden," said the pastor, looking past the sharp, weasel face of Hervitz, and speaking to the old father, "have I your leave to sit? I am an old man, and, moreover, very weary to-night."
Jaspar rose and silently pushed a stool across the floor, and Pastor Oshart sat down.
"Master Jasper Valden, and you, Dorlat and Hervitz," said he, "I am sent to you with a message from all the people of Carfoos. And the message is this. You are requested to move away from this place and to return no more. We give you one week in which to make your preparations, and if at the end of that time you are still here, information against you will be lodged at the Klingengolf police-station, and the law must be suffered to take its course."
"And pray why should we thus be driven forth?" questioned Jaspar, his stern, rugged face flushing angrily. "Have we not as good a right to be here as you or any one else?"
"All peaceable and law-abiding folk have an equal right," replied the old pastor, with mild firmness. "And whose fault is it, my masters, that ye are not of such?"
"Yet know I not what charges could be brought against us," said Jaspar; "nor yet," he added fiercely, "why the whole village should band together to hound us out of the place."
"If you are wise, Jaspar Valden," answered Pastor Oshart, "you will not ask me to name and count up the misdeeds which have brought you and yours into disfavour with all Carfoos and its neighbourhood. But I tell you this, that should you be taken up for trial at Klingengolf, evidence will not be wanting to bring home to you some of these misdeeds. We would—to say truth—spare ourselves and you the disgrace of a public trial; but your lawlessness and the terror with which you have filled our quiet village cannot longer be suffered. This, then, is my message from my people your neighbours. What answer am I to take back to those who sent me?"
At this, the father and his two sons sullenly rose and went to the other end of the long low room, and there held a discussion in muttered tones, the meaning of which did not reach the pastor's ears.
At last the three men turned, and Jaspar came forward.
"Since the people of Carfoos are unjust and cruel," said he, "we willingly quit so unpleasant a neighbourhood. But mind you, sir pastor, let it clearly be understood that we do this, not because we acknowledge the truth of the accusations, or the right of our neighbours to dictate to us what we shall do, but because we care not to remain among those who hate us, and who do us an injustice."
"Is this, then, your reply?"
"It is, Master Oshart."
"It is well," said the old pastor. "So now that I have spoken on behalf of my people, and received your answer, I have yet something to say that concerns more particularly myself. It is about Freskel. I love the boy; he is fond of me; we understand one another. To you, with his wavering mind, his wayward will, his strange, wild ways, he can be of little use, and of no comfort. My wife is dead, I have no child; leave Freskel with me, and I pledge myself to be all to him that a father can."
There was a pause, broken only by a contemptuous snort from Dorlat and a shrill exclamation from Hervitz. Old Jaspar said nothing, but looked gloomily down, and clenched his great knotted right hand on the table. The pastor waited patiently for a minute or two; at last he said gently,—
"Jaspar Valden, you have heard my request; will you be pleased to grant it?"
The old man roused himself. Shaking back the masses of grey hair that overhung his brow, he straightened his mighty form to its full height and said, "Had it been any one but you, Pastor Oshart, that asked me this, I would have said, 'Take the boy and welcome'; but to you I say, 'No.' If I care not for the brat myself, none the more would I have him beloved by my enemy. For think not, sir pastor, that I have forgotten your impudent interference in speaking to us years ago. Who are you that you should presume to remonstrate with us? Who asked you to concern yourself with our affairs? I tell you—"
"One word, Master Valden," said the old pastor. "You surely forget that it is my duty in the sight of God, to warn and admonish in the home of sin, as much as it is my privilege to comfort in the house of mourning, or to speak a word in season to him that is weary. In all ways, and to all men, Christ's gospel of repentance and salvation must be preached by me; yea, woe is me if I preach not the Gospel. And woe is me, likewise, if respect of persons, or fear of violence, or even a desire not to offend, makes me to hold my peace, keeping back the word of truth that the Lord hath given me to speak.
"Jaspar Valden, I have no ill-feeling towards you in my heart. Would to God that I needed not to say unto you aught but comfortable words. Would to God that ye were seekers after truth, would-be followers of the loving and gracious One, whose servant I am."
Jasper was about to speak, but Pastor Oshart rose from his seat and held up his hand, and the old man kept silence.
"Oh, my friends (suffer me to call you so this once)," cried the pastor, "my mouth is open unto you, my heart is enlarged. This night I have been sent to you in God's providence with a message from man, and now I stand before you having also a message from the Lord Himself. He only knows if the Gospel invitation will ever be spoken to you again. He only can tell whether or no for any or all of you the day of grace, the accepted time, ends to-night. I beseech you, flee from the wrath to come while yet you may. I pray you, in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God. I earnestly plead with you to turn from your evil ways, from the love of money which causes you to sin, and to come, just as you are, to the open arms of Jesus. For are we not told that 'when the wicked man turneth away front his wickedness and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive'?
"And since He is faithful that hath promised, no word shall fail of all that the Lord hath spoken, if you will but come as penitents to Him and cry, 'God be merciful to me a sinner, for Jesus, Thy Son's, dear sake.'"
Here the old pastor's voice broke in a sob; the inspired light died out of his eyes, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
"Oh, my people!" he sighed tremblingly. "'Turn ye—turn ye; why will ye die?'"
Jasper Valden's rugged, powerful face worked with emotion as the pastor spoke.
Once he seemed on the point of replying impulsively, but a hard, scornful look from his son Dorlat silenced him.
Again there was silence, and Pastor Oshart turned towards the door and waited there. Presently he said very gently, "I pray you, Master Valden, to re-consider that matter of your son Freskel. Give him to me, and before God I promise that you shall not repent it."
Jaspar passed his great hand across his brow; the expression of his face was troubled and irresolute. "I know not what answer to give you," he said at length.
"Indeed, father, this foolish weakness is unworthy of thee," said Dorlat, scowling from under his shaggy brows at the pastor.
"Yes, why should the impertinent old preacher have his way with us after all?" yelled Hervitz, in his shrill falsetto. "If we let him hence with a whole skin and an unbruised head, surely that is more than he deserves who comes thus a-meddling."
"And as for Freskel," added Dorlat, "we can make use of him yet, fool though he be; but even if not, better get rid of him in some other way than give him to be turned against his own flesh and blood, and become their enemy."
"Jaspar Valden, it was to you that I appealed, and for your answer I wait," said the pastor, taking no notice of what the young men said, and not even glancing in their diction.
"You hear what these, my sons say?" asked the old man, with an uneasy look at the two evil faces beside him. "Well, as you know that we are a united family," (here he gave a hard, bitter laugh), "of course what they speak, I must stand to."
"God help you then!" sighed Pastor Oshart. "And the boy Freskel remains with you?"
"He remains with us."
"Then, since this is final, I have only to say good-night," said Pastor Oshart.
For one moment he paused with the door open, but there was no response to his farewell from either Jaspar or his sons; so he gave them one last sad look, then shut himself out into the darkness and plodded wearily home, cast down in even that brave heart of his, and murmuring, as he gazed up to the silent stars, "'O Lord, I have laboured in vain, and I have spent my strength for nought.'"
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THE GHOST OF THE ISLAND
SUMMER had passed; autumn too, with its crisp, frosty nights and sunshiny days, and its forest foliage glowing with a glory of crimson and gold, the dress put on by all the trees save the solemn pines and firs, which still kept to the sombre hues of their evergreen.
Yes, winter had come; not as it comes here, with an occasional short spell of frost and fall of snow alternating with south-west winds and rain, but stern, white, and still, with unbreaking frost, and trees ghost-clad, and grand, polished, gleaming snow-roads, over which the Finnish sledge-carts glided smoothly, the bells on the horses tinkling bravely.
The whole wide lake was one sheet of glass, out of which, in solemn, solitary grandeur, rose the island, bare now of green,—a great giant with a hoary head, and with his mantle lined and furred here and there with pure white snow.
In the cottage of Grubert Reuss there was once more the happiness of reunion, for the father had returned to his home. But the family were poorer than ever before, for the man's right arm was disabled by his injury, and was unfit for a woodcutter's work; and Tonie, whom Philip Bexal had taken on instead, had neither strength nor experience as yet to do a full day's work, and therefore only earned half-pay.
Still Grubert was not idle. Though his right arm had not power to wield the axe, his hand had not lost its cunning, and now that he could not employ himself in felling timber in the forest, he set to work to make use of his time at home. Many were the ingenious toys, the pretty carved boxes and useful vessels, which he made out of wood. Some he polished, others he painted, and when he had completed a goodly number, he carried or sent them to Klingengolf, where a dealer was willing to take all he could make.
Tonie and Blonda, too, were fully occupied, and were never idle a moment. The former was out in the woods all day, helping to fell timber and cart it down to the river bank some miles away, while the latter, when not busy with sweeping, cooking, washing, or mending, sat down to her loom and wove yard after yard of coarse linen towelling, which Grubert took to sell in the town when he had goods of his own of which to dispose.
Almost the only recreation that the children had was to bind on their skates, and hand in hand to fly off and explore the lake. Like swallows they skimmed the surface, fearless and sure of their footing. Now and again a solitary wolf, or even a pair of wolves, might be seen skulking across the ice, but the animals seemed to pay no heed to the little skaters, and they in their turn did not trouble their heads about them. One or two wolves were not dangerous, and the young folks never went so far from home as to run the risk of encountering these creatures in any numbers.
The good pastor was working away among his people as hard as ever. With the autumn came illness to the village, and the old man's strength had been sorely tried by the demands made upon it; and even now, when the condition of Carfoos was healthy once more, he had hardly recovered his usual vigour.
As for the Valdens, they had indeed moved away; but they had not gone far; and though just at first they kept quiet, and nothing was heard of them, now again there had begun to be circulated rumours that spoke of quantities of wood mysteriously stolen, snares robbed that had been set for hares and birds. Birch trees were being despoiled of, their bark, and even frozen venison, frozen pigs and game and poultry, had been stolen out of the sheds where the villagers stored their marketable provisions to be in readiness for taking to town to sell.
As for Freskel, he still haunted the home of the pastor, though not as much as he had done before his father and brothers left Carfoos. But there was a great change in the lad, which the pastor could not but see, and which, he felt assured, dated back to that night when Freskel had been of such signal service to the children at the woodcutter's cottage, and in saving from the covetous hands of Dorlat and Hervitz, Rolf Bresser's bag of money.
Pastor Oshart knew not what to make now of the boy's strange moods, for Freskel went about as one in a dream, sometimes seeming quite unreasonably elated, and at others downcast and shrinking guiltily, as though conscious of doing wrong. To all questions the youth returned evasive replies, and even his love for the pastor could not induce him to make a confidant of his old friend. Some strange spell seemed to be about Freskel, some bad influence was slowly but surely undermining his happiness and dragging him down.
And now, at this time, once more it was reported that the Isle of Ghosts was haunted, and the glimmer of a ghostly light and the flitting of a shadowy form had been seen at night from the shores of the lake.
Connecting these reports with Freskel Valden's frequent and unaccounted for absences, the good pastor came to the conclusion that the poor, half-witted lad had become possessed by a mad passion for the ill-gotten gold which tradition said still lay hidden in some corner of the island, and that the ghost which haunted that lonely pile of rock was none other than Freskel himself. Pastor Oshart, however, said nothing to any one about his suspicions, for he hoped gradually to bring some better influence to bear upon the poor youth's heart and life,—some strong motive which would overcome the greed of riches which he inherited from his father and shared with his wicked brothers, Dorlat and Hervitz.
The good old man did not for one moment believe that any treasure existed at all on the island, save in the imagination of a few foolish or idle people. But he dreaded—and rightly—the strength of an absorbing, covetous passion on such a mind as that of poor Freskel, which was only too apt to lend itself to delusions of all sorts.
"Father," said Blonda to Grubert one afternoon as she sat down to her loom, "Father, hadst thou any special need for some of this linen last night or this morning?"
"No, my child; why?" asked Grubert.
"Because I see that quite a long piece of it is gone," replied the girl. "When I put away my work last evening, at supper-time, I had two rolls of linen, and had begun a third, and now I see that one of them is not here."
"Strange!" remarked Grubert. "Has Tonie taken it for any purpose?"
"Hast thou taken a roll of my towelling, Tonie?" asked Blonda, for her brother came in just at that moment.
"I? No, little sister; what should I want with it?" replied the boy, in great surprise.
"It is quite impossible that it should have been stolen," said Grubert, "for no one comes here but our dear pastor and poor Freskel Valden."
"Was Freskel here this morning?" asked Tonie.
"Yes," answered his father. "He came just after breakfast, when thou wert one out into the forest and Blonda to the goat shed."
"What could he want at so early an hour, I wonder!" said Tonie. "Why, he must have risen at about three o'clock in the morning to come all the way from where the Valdens live now. What could have been his purpose?"
"Who can tell?" said Grubert. "Thou knowest how strange he is, with his whims and his fancies. He sat down here in the kitchen by the fire, and warmed himself, and presently I left him, for I had promised to see Pastor Oshart as early as I could. When we all returned to dinner, as thou knowest, Blonda, Freskel was no longer here."
"It is strange! Passing strange!" said Blonda.
But as there was no accounting for her loss, the subject was dropped, and nothing more was said about it.
That evening our two little Finns strapped on their skates, and set out for an hour's exercise and recreation on the lake. It was a glorious night; there was no wind, the moon rode high and clear in a cloudless sky, and the stars, like ten thousand luminous eyes, peered down upon the little skaters, as with long, easy sweeps they glided, hand in hand, across the beautiful sheet of ice that reflected the moonlight like a mirror.
As the children neared the island they slackened their pace.
"I wonder," said Tonie, "if there is any truth in the old tradition about this place! Think, Blonda, what it would be if thou and I could but light upon the treasure hidden so long! How rich we should be, and how happy! And—"
"Hush, hush, Tonie; speak not so," cried Blonda. "If gold lies buried in that island, there let it lie for me! After all, it was all ill-gotten booty, if the story of the robber band be true, and such treasure will bring a curse, and not a blessing. No, Tonie, father is right when he tells us not to suffer our minds to dwell on such matters, lest the longing after filthy lucre come between us and God. For thou knowest what our Lord saith in His word:
"'For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.'"
Tonie did not reply, but suddenly digging the heel of his skate into the ice, he stopped short, and his sister, rather startled, did the same. Then he whispered eagerly, as he pointed towards the island, which was now close to them, "Hush, Blonda; didst thou see that?"
Blonda followed the direction in which her brother's finger was pointing.
"I see nothing," she said softly. "What should I see?"
"Didst thou not see that light? It flashed an instant and was gone. Up there it was, just between those two peaks. There, there it is again! Oh, Blonda, can it be the ghost after all?"
"Nonsense, Tonie!" replied the little girl stoutly. "Thou knowest that there are no ghosts; has not our father told us so again and again?"
"Then what sayest thou—and what would our father say—to that?" muttered Tonie under his breath, as from behind a huge rock there came in sight a strange, shapeless white as the snow around.
For a moment it stood motionless; then, with a doleful, unearthly cry, it vanished as suddenly as though the rock had opened and swallowed it up.
For some minutes the children waited to see if the ghost re-appeared, but their waiting was in vain, and presently they turned homeward, too full of their adventure to care to prolong their skating expedition.
They were, however, scarcely half-way back to the shore, when they met two men muffled up in sheep-skin coats, and wearing huge felt boots, which prevented their slipping on the ice.
"Dorlat and Hervitz Valden," said Tonie, when they had passed.
"Yes; I wonder what brings them out here!" answered Blonda. "Thinkest thou, Tonie, that they are going to brave the ghost of the island—or the thing that pretends to be a ghost—and to make a search for the treasure?"
"How can I tell, Blonda? But one thing I know, little sister, whether a ghost be a dangerous neighbour or no, Dorlat and Hervitz Valden are dangerous enough, as we know by experience. I glanced over my shoulder but now, and saw those evil brothers standing and looking after us. Come, let us get home!"
Once more taking hands, the children glided swiftly away, and when they next looked back, Dorlat and Hervitz were nowhere to be seen, and the whole wide expanse of frozen water lay bathed in moonlight, save only where the Isle of Ghosts cast a black shadow, its tall, jagged peaks seeming to form upon the clear ice the long fingers of a giant hand, feeling about for something to clutch and to destroy.
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GENERAL NICOLAI AGAIN
EARLY the next morning, Freskel opened the door of Grubert's cottage, and found only Tonie in the kitchen.
"What is it, Freskel?" asked Tonie, who was lighting the fire and getting things ready for Blonda to prepare the breakfast.
"There is to be a great hunt in the forest, Tonie; some fine people from the Tzar's city came to Klingengolf yesterday, and they are all driving down to Carfoos in their Russian troika sledges, and here they will put on snow shoes, and go on foot into the wood and round among the hills, to look for beasts to slay; and Freskel will guide the hunters and find them a bear, and for that Freskel will have money—silver money!" And the lad's eyes gleamed avariciously.
"And what use hast thou for money?" asked Blonda, who at that moment entered the kitchen and heard Freskel's words.
"I want it to hoard; to hoard and to look at sometimes, so that I may hug myself to think how rich Freskel—the poor, foolish Freskel is," replied the youth, his whole full of a covetous greed, which gave it a strangely repulsive appearance.
"Then beware, my lad!" said Grubert's deep voice, for the woodman too had come downstairs, and now joined the little group. "For hark ye, Freskel Valden, the devil baits some of his deadliest traps with silver and gold, and the miser's heart is his very throne. Yes, beware, Freskel, for thou art in danger."
The lad looked from one to another of his friends with a half-puzzled, half-cunning look, which they could not understand. Then he was turning sulkily away, when Grubert said—
"Leave us not, Freskel, until thou hast broken thy fast. Come and share our meal; there is plenty for all."
So Freskel sat down with them.
And while they were eating, Blonda, suddenly remembering the disappearance of the linen, and thinking that Freskel might perhaps throw some light upon her loss, said, "By the bye, Freskel, such a strange thing has happened to me; I have lost some linen towelling I had woven. Did any beggar or stranger chance to come in while thou wert alone here a day or two ago, or didst thou perchance leave the door open when thine errand here was done? The roll could not have disappeared by itself, yet gone it most surely is."
Freskel gave no reply for a minute, but he put down the wooden spoon with which he was eating his barley porridge, and glanced round the table quickly, furtively.
"No," he said, at last, "Freskel knows nothing; how should a poor fool like Freskel know?" Then he gulped down his mug of milk, stuffed a bunch of rye bread into his pocket, and rose abruptly from the table.
"The hunt will be out," he said, "and I must go, for how will the grand city people find their way without Freskel to guide them?"
And seemingly glad to get away, he opened the door, and sprang across the threshold, and into the forest, to meet the party who had bespoken his services as leader.
Grubert and Tonie went out soon after breakfast, but shortly returned, saying that Philip Bexal had given all the woodmen a holiday on account of the hunt, so that no felling or carting of timber should disturb the game, or interfere with the sportsmen, who, he had heard, were some very grand people from the Court of St. Petersburg.
Thinking, however, that they might be of service in some way, and wishing, at all events, to see the sport, if they could do so without going too far from home, the father and son soon set forth again, asking Blonda to bring their dinner to them, and promising to meet her, as near one o'clock as possible, at a place known by the name of the Grey Cave, a deep, rocky hollow in a sort of cliff, at the back of which a chain of hills, full of boulders and fragments of stone, skirted the eastern side of the forest.
Blonda had plenty to do all the morning, and by noon she was quite glad to set her kitchen in order, pack up the dinner in a basket, and dress herself for going out. It was a cold day, and she was clothed even more warmly than usual, adding to her accustomed wraps a large, thick scarlet shawl, which she folded corner-wise and put round her head, crossing it over her chest, and loosely looping together the ends behind at the waist.
As she trotted away with her sheep-skin capote, her high over-all felt boots, her red shawl, her basket on her arm, and a stout stick in her hand, she looked like a very comfortable, substantial "Little Red Riding Hood," going forth to see the world, but far too sensible and experienced to be taken in by any sort of wolf which Finland could produce.
Blonda did not go into the wood at all, but kept along at the foot of the range of hills, wending her way in and out among the great blocks of stone, and avoiding the deep snowdrifts, which her practised eye easily detected. Arrived at the cave, she set down her basket on a flat stone, and creeping just within the arch of the cavern, for shelter from the keen wind, she sat down to rest a bit, for she had been on her feet all the morning, and now she was a little weary with her walk.
Suddenly she heard in the distance a baying of dogs; then there was silence, then again the barking quite near, and a minute after, two great, powerful hounds sprang out of the forest. For one instant they paused opposite the cave, eying Blonda curiously, their handsome heads erect, their hair bristling. She rose from her seat on the stone and made a step towards them; but that moment they put their noses to the snow once more, seemed to recover the scent, and dashed past her into the inner recesses of the Grey Cave.
For a minute or two, there was a great noise at the back of the cavern: eager scratching up of snow, barking and growling, and angry grunts.
By this time Blonda had left the cave, and now stood outside, and well to the left. It was a good thing that she did so, for all at once, there was a strange, shuffling, scrambling noise, and out of the cave there rushed a huge brown bear, followed by the dogs, which were worrying him, and trying to bite through his shaggy fur. At the same moment, from among the trees, there stepped a tall, commanding form, which the little girl recognised at once as that of General Nicolai.
The bear had shuffled by him and was in full retreat, when the young officer raised his gun and fired. The bullet wounded the beast without disabling it, and, furious with pain, the animal turned before the sportsman had time to load again. Shouldering one of the hounds aside and half stunning the other with a cuff, Bruin rushed back, reared up on his hind legs, and seizing the gun, bit and crushed it out of shape with his teeth, while he fixed the claws of one great paw in the fur-covered shoulder of his assailant.
It must have fared badly indeed with General Nicolai had not Blonda at that moment, seeing his peril, thought of a way to help him. She suddenly tore off her red shawl, and coming close up behind the bear, she dexterously threw the soft, clinging folds right over the great beast's head and face. In the same instant, the dogs attacked him once more, and poor Bruin, bewildered, blinded, and entangled, rolled over backwards, madly clawing the air.
Just then loud shouts, cries, and exclamations announced the arrival on the scene of the rest of the hunting party, who had been led off by Freskel and their dogs for some distance on a new trail, before they missed the general. By them, the poor bear was shortly despatched; and no sooner was he dead, than one of the newly-arrived gentleman, an elderly man, approached the young officer, and with respectful anxiety enquired if he were hurt. But, happily, the general's fur coat was thick, and the cloth of firm, close texture, so that the bear's claws had not penetrated far.
"So calm thine anxiety, my friend," said the young officer, laughing. "In no way do I find myself the worse for this encounter, though, without doubt, I must have been but for my little deliverer. See, there she stands, my brave little maid with the blue eyes. By my faith, that was something like presence of mind! Just at the critical moment she turned the fortunes of the fight in my favour. And now I look closer at this child," continued the young man, "methinks I have seen those innocent eyes and flaxen locks before. Is it so, little one?"
"It is even so, sir general," replied Blonda. "I am Blonda, daughter of Grubert Reuss."
"And when and where did we meet, little Blonda? Tell me that."
"Last summer, sir, in the grotto by the lake, just after Philip Bexal told you the story of the Isle of Ghosts."
"Ah, yes!" laughed the young man. "I cannot but remember thee now; thou hast once more chapter and verse for everything, even as thou hadst then. And said I not that I hoped one day to see thee again, and also make the acquaintance of thy father and brother, and visit you all in your home?"
"Yes, sir, you did indeed," replied Blonda; "and there are my father and brother, sir general; they are standing with Freskel Valden behind your friends of the hunt."
"Come forward, Grubert Reuss, and thy son too," said the young man, raising his voice a little. "Here, my good fellows, you have a daughter and a sister to be proud of. And thou also, thou strange lad, who shrinkest away out of sight, I would speak with thee," he added, beckoning to Freskel. "So Freskel Valden is thy name?"
"Yes, I am Freskel," replied the youth.
"Thou, too, art no stranger to me," said the officer; "long ago this little maid spoke of thee, saying how wise love made thee in many ways. Thou seest, Blondinka, I have not forgotten thy words. Nay, Freskel, hang not thy head. If thou think that thou art scarce deserving of all the kind things our little friend hath spoken of thee, see to it that at least thou deserve them in the future. And now, Grubert Reuss," continued the general, "lead on and show me the way to thy house. Many things have I seen in this part of my—of Finland, but the inside of a woodman's cottage is still to me an undiscovered country. And beside, I would have some further talk with my little friend here."
The elderly gentleman, who seemed to be the next in rank to the general, now ventured a few words of expostulation, which the young man did not take very well.
"Pray, who is master here? Tell me!" he said, drawing himself up haughtily.
"Your im—I beg pardon, general, I forgot; you scarce need to be told that I am always your servant to command."
"Then please to remember that in future," said the young officer sternly. "And now thou and the rest of my company return to Carfoos, unpack the provisions we brought with us, and order the sledges for Klingengolf. There will be no more sport to-day, and to-morrow we go in a different direction. I will join you at Carfoos later. My good friends here will accompany me, and show the way through the forest."
So saying, the young general turned from his own companions, and with Grubert, Tonie and Blonda walked to the cottage.
Arrived here, he sat by the kitchen stove and warmed himself, and learning, by some remark of Tonie's, that the family had not yet dined, he declared himself extremely hungry, and asked permission to join them in their repast. The dinner basket was accordingly unpacked, and the food shared among the four hungry people, Blonda adding some barley coffee and goat's milk as a treat in honour of the special occasion. The young general ate up his hunch of black bread to the last crumb, and thanked his host for the most delightful repast he had enjoyed for long enough.
Then he sat and chatted with the family for some time, asking many questions and showing a real interest in the replies given. At last, pulling out his watch, he declared it as time for him to go.
"But first, Grubert Reuss," said he, "I have a very pleasant duty to perform. In remembrance of thy little daughter's service to me this day, I ask thee to accept this pocket-book of Russian notes. The banker at Klingengolf will readily change them for thee into Finnish money. And as for my little maid with the forget-me-not eyes, let me give thee, child, something which may be of use to thee some day. I am much at the Court in St. Petersburg, and have some little influence there. If ever thou or thine, or any in whom thou mayest be interested, should be in trouble, apply to me, and I pledge myself to help thee, granting thee any boon thou dost ask, if it be but in my power."
So saying, the young general wrote a few words on a piece of paper (which he tore out of a memorandum-book), folded it small, then asked for a candle, and producing a bit of red wax, he proceeded to seal the letter, leaving upon the hot wax the impression of his great signet-ring. Lastly, he addressed it to General Nicolai, Winter Palace, St. Petersburg, and handing it to Blonda, told her to keep it safely, as she might want it some day. Then he took a kindly leave of her, and, accompanied by Grubert and Tonie, he started for Carfoos to join his party.