The Project Gutenberg eBook ofTwo little FinnsThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Two little FinnsAuthor: Mary E. RopesRelease date: September 24, 2024 [eBook #74471]Language: EnglishOriginal publication: London: The Religious Tract Society, 1895*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO LITTLE FINNS ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Two little FinnsAuthor: Mary E. RopesRelease date: September 24, 2024 [eBook #74471]Language: EnglishOriginal publication: London: The Religious Tract Society, 1895
Title: Two little Finns
Author: Mary E. Ropes
Author: Mary E. Ropes
Release date: September 24, 2024 [eBook #74471]
Language: English
Original publication: London: The Religious Tract Society, 1895
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO LITTLE FINNS ***
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
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The Story of the Isle of Ghosts.
BY
MARY E. ROPES
Author of "Big Ben's Little Boss," "Seedy Mike," etc.
London:
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
56 PATERNOSTER ROW, AND 65 ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.
BUTLER & TANNERTHE SELWOOD PRINTING WORKSFROME, AND LONDON.
CONTENTS
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CHAP.
I. AN IMPORTANT TRUST
II. THE STORY OF THE ISLE OF GHOSTS
III. THE SIEGE OF THE COTTAGE
IV. PLAYING THE GHOST
V. A COUNCIL OF WAR
VI. BEARDING THE LIONS IN THEIR DEN
VII. THE GHOST OF THE ISLAND
VIII. GENERAL NICOLAI AGAIN
IX. A MISER ROBBED
X. A FRIEND AT COURT
TWO LITTLE FINNS
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AN IMPORTANT TRUST
EARLY in the present century—that is to say, somewhere about the year 1816—there lived on the borders of a great forest in Finland a woodcutter and his two children. Their home was a log hut built in two storeys. On the lower floor was a kitchen, a tiny corner of which was screened off for a bedroom, while upstairs were two small chambers, one for the man, Grubert Reuss, and the other for his little daughter, Blonda, a girl eleven years of age. The boy, Anthony, commonly called Tonie, who was thirteen, slept downstairs, and made himself very useful, especially in the early mornings, by bringing in wood, filling the water-tub from the lake that bounded this part of the forest on one side, lighting the fire, and sweeping out the kitchen all ready for Blonda when she came down to prepare breakfast.
They were very poor—Grubert and his children—but this did not hinder them from being contented and happy. Their food was coarse and wanting in variety, consisting for the most part of black rye bread, barley porridge, vegetable soup, eggs, goat's milk, and the mushrooms, roots and berries that they found in the woods. But they had enough to eat, and their clothing was not of an expensive kind; so they managed to get along very well, especially now that Blonda was becoming quite a clever little housekeeper, and was able to make her father's earnings go almost as far as her mother had done in years gone by, before the fever which devastated that part of Finland swept her away, leaving the little home bereft.
Tonie was only five and his sister three when their mother died, and a hard struggle had it been for Grubert to bring up his little ones without his wife to help him. But he was a good and a brave man, with a firm and simple reliance on the love and justice of the Almighty, and the courage which comes from a good conscience, and from an earnest wish and effort to do right. And now the hardest time had passed, and his children were beginning to reward him for all his care by their love, their obedience, and their industry.
The woodcutter's cottage stood quite two miles away from any other dwelling, and three from the little village of Carfoos, where they went to church on Sunday morning. Their pastor's house was the nearest neighbour to theirs, and the pastor himself, old Bertholm Oshart, was their best and dearest friend—a man full of the spirit of his Master, and living only for Him and His service. In point of worldly goods, he was little better off than the woodcutter himself; but though silver and gold had he none for his little flock, such as he had, gave he them, and this was of his best—his very heart and soul and life; and he was justly revered and beloved by all the people to whom he ministered.
One family only in the village of Carfoos showed a dislike to the good old man. They were a lawless, unprincipled set, of the name of Valden, who had done much harm by their evil example, and whom the pastor had had occasion solemnly to warn and reprove. Bitterly resenting his faithfulness, the Valdens never forgave him. Several times, and in various ways, they had tried to injure him, and more than once they had succeeded, though of their personal animosity and unkindness Pastor Oshart took no heed.
But in this family, the youngest was a poor, half-witted youth, as much devoted to the good old minister as the rest were set against hum. The pastor, while others jeered at or despised the lad, had always treated him with gentleness, and poor Freskel's affection and gratitude were constantly being shown. Nor could his brothers keep him from following the old man about, and ministering to him in such ways as he could, these being by no means few. Half-witted though Freskel was, no one for many miles round knew as much as he did about the woods and the water, the animals and fish, the wild fruit and flowers and birds; and hardly ever a day passed without the lad bringing to the pastor's house some humble offering. Now it was a hare which he had snared, or some game-bird's eggs he had found, or a string of freshly caught salmon-trout, or a basket of mushrooms or wild strawberries. He chopped wood for the pastor, he fetched water, he weeded the little garden; he led the goats out to pasture in the summer, and cut up food for them in winter, when the whole land was covered with snow. A smile, a kindly word, a caressing touch from the old man was ample reward for all that he could do, and when he was near to the pastor his happiness was touching to see.
With Grubert, Tonie, and Blonda too, Freskel was very friendly, and the children liked nothing better than a day's expedition with this lad, to whom Nature was an open book, and the only one he was ever likely to be able to read.
One morning Grubert Reuss told his children that he would be obliged to set out that day for Klingengolf, the nearest town, to sell his stock of carved toys and other wooden articles made by him and Tonie during the long winter evenings, and to buy various things that were wanted for home use. The town was quite thirty-five miles distant, and as Grubert had no conveyance, he would be obliged to walk, and could not possibly get back for at least three days.
"So, my dears," said he, "you will be alone at all events for to-night and to-morrow night. Shall you be afraid?"
"No, father," replied Tonie; "what should harm us? It is summer time, and there are no wolves near us, as there are now and again in winter; though even if there were, they would only prowl about here at night, and then we are always safe at home. And there is nothing else to do us harm, as thou knowest well, dear father."
"Yes, all will be well," said Blonda; "fear not for us. And we promise to be such good children, and to take good care of the home till thou return to us again."
Then the little girl set about preparing a basket of provisions for Grubert to take with him, and in half an hour he was on his way.
The young folk had a busy morning. The house had to be swept and tidied; then there was dinner to prepare and to eat. After that they worked in the little garden, and then, later in the afternoon, they sallied out to pick wild berries for supper.
The long bright day passed pleasantly, and the shadows beginning to gather were making them think of going to bed, when just as they were about to lock up the house for the night, a hurried knock came at the front door of the cottage, which faced the wood.
Blonda opened it, and to her surprise Pastor Oshart, pale and panting, stepped across the threshold.
"Your father, my children! Is he at home? I would speak with him at once."
"Dear pastor," said Tonie, "he has gone away to Klingengolf, and will not be back for three days."
"That is indeed unfortunate," replied the old man, and he glanced down uneasily at a small leather bag he was carrying, and which now for the first time, he produced from under his cloak.
"Is there nothing in which we can help you, Pastor Oshart?" asked Tonie. "Blonda and I would be so glad to serve you."
"Yes, my children, it may be that you can," answered the old man. "Let me sit down, and I will tell you why I am come here to-night. But first, Tonie, close thou the shutters and the door, and make all safe, lest some one peep in, or come and surprise us."
Tonie and Blonda exchanged frightened glances. The thought of any possible danger to them in this home of theirs had never occurred to them before, and now, as their eyes sought once more the old man's face, they could see that he was anxious and troubled.
"Listen, little ones," said the pastor. "This morning Rolf Bresser, a friend of mine, came to me and begged me to take charge for a few days of a bag of money—gold and silver coin. It had been given him, he said, by a rich man, to distribute among the poor of the village where he lived. There has been an epidemic of small-pox in the place, and the villagers have been compelled in many cases to burn their clothes and bedding to get rid of the infection. This money is to help them to buy clothing before the cold weather returns.
"Rolf Bresser expected to start for home to-day," Pastor Oshart went on, "but he has been delayed by business, and this morning he told me he had reason to fear that the Valdens or some of their friends had got scent, somehow, of the matter, and he was in dread of being robbed of the money before he could get away. For this reason, my children, he brought the bag to me for safely, and I locked it up in my chest, and Rolf went away quite content. But scarcely had I sat down to my dinner, when the door opened softly, and Freskel Valden stole in.
"'Hush, my father!' he said, putting a finger to his lips. 'The brothers think that poor Freskel sees nothing—knows nothing; but my eyes are open, my ears are not stopped, if only they or I could do aught for thee, my father.'
"Then, Tonie and Blonda, he told me in his strange fashion that his brothers Dorlat and Hervitz had got wind of the money-bag, and had contrived to track Rolf Bresser to my door. This being so, of course I felt that my house was no longer a safe hiding-place for the treasure, and I feared lest the Valdens or their boon companions should break in at night and carry it away. So after dark I got out of my back door, hiding the bag under my cloak, and hurried hither to ask your father to take care of it till such time as Rolf is able to start for home. For truly no one could suspect that in a woodcutter's cottage there could be anything worth stealing."
"No, dear pastor," replied Blonda; "father has often said that after all we poor folk are the happiest, for none envy us or covet what we have."
"And this being so, my children—now I come to think of it—the bag is quite as safe here as it would be were your father at home, and I need have no fear of leaving it with you. Here, Blonda, my little maid, take and hide it away, and whenever my friend is ready to leave, he or I will come and claim it at thy hand.
"I hope and trust that those miscreants the Valdens have not tracked me hither as they tracked Rolf to my house. Indeed, I should hardly think it possible they could have done so, after all my care and precautions. And now, children, good-night, and God bless you. Lock and bolt the door after me, and let no one in on any pretext whatever."
Then the door opened, letting in a breath of cool air laden with the scent of pines—and Pastor Oshart was gone.
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THE STORY OF THE ISLE OF GHOSTS
THE night passed quietly enough. Perhaps the old pastor's fears were groundless, and Freskel's brothers either had given up the idea of getting hold of the bag of coin, or suspected nothing of its change of quarters.
With the morning light came a sense of security, and the children were ready to laugh at their fears of the night before.
After their early meal of bread and goat's milk, they resolved to go and spend the day out of doors, taking dinner with them.
The time must pass slowly enough while their father was away from them; and the weather to-day was so fine that it seemed a pity for them to stay at home, when they had really nothing much to do.
So Blonda put up some dinner in a little basket, and Tonie took his fishing tackle, and carefully locking both doors of the house, they set out for a long day by the lake side.
On the shore, not far from the cottage, was a natural grotto formed by four great boulders of Finnish granite, which were so disposed as to make three rough walls and a roof, so that there was shelter within from sun and rain, and from wind too, unless this blew directly across the lake from the eastward, towards which the grotto was open, facing the rising sun.
In this pleasant resort the children established themselves. Blonda took out her knitting, while Tonie began to arrange his fishing tackle, and bait his hooks before embarking on the raft which Grubert had constructed from trunks of pine, and which served the children instead of a boat whenever they wanted to fish in deep water across the lake.
"The poor, dear pastor! How weary he looked and anxious too, last night!" said Blonda. "His sweet old face was quite white and drawn; didst thou remark it, Tonie?"
"Yes, surely," replied the boy; "and yet, Blonda, it may be that his fears were altogether groundless, after all. Freskel is but half-witted, and it is not impossible that he is mistaken, and that his brothers knew nothing of the bag, or even if they knew, perhaps they had no thought of so wickedly robbing the pastor of what his friend had entrusted to his care."
"I know not," rejoined Blonda thoughtfully, as she picked up a dropped stitch in her knitting. "But Freskel Valden—half-witted though he be—is, it seems to me, clear enough of vision and true of understanding in all matters which concern Pastor Oshart. Who knows, Tonie, whether such great love as his for our good minister may not make him wise, even as the very beasts and birds of the forest are wise through love, and cunning in their watchfulness over those for whom they care!"
"Thou may'st well be right, sister," said Tonie. "As our father has often told us, God has gifts for all, even the most simple among His creatures; and to one He gives wisdom of one sort, and to another of a different kind. But there, Blonda, I am ready now for my fishing; say, little sister, wilt thou come with me on the raft to the Isle of Ghosts, or stayest thou here?"
"I think I will stay, Tonie, for I want to finish this pair of socks for father, and I have not too much time. Come thou back to me here by dinner-time, and perhaps if thou return to the island afterwards, we can then go together."
So Tonie pushed off on his raft towards the centre of the lake, where, rising abruptly out of deep water, stood a rocky islet formed of the grey stone boulders which are to be found strewn everywhere on land and in the water over a great part of Finland. There were trees on the island and underwood in great tangles everywhere. Wild raspberry bushes and other brambly growths had struggled up between the rocks, clothing the rough crags almost down to the water's edge, while tiny ferns nestled under the shelter of the overhanging stones, a contrast, in their delicate beauty, to the massive grandeur of their surroundings.
Blonda was still watching Tonie as he dexterously propelled the raft across the water, when she was startled to hear a man's voice behind her saying in Russian, of which she knew enough to understand conversation and herself speak a little,—
"What then, my good friend, is the name of this island?"
"The name of the island, sir general, is the Isle of Ghosts," replied a voice, which Blonda recognised as that of the head wood-ranger, Philip Bexal, a sort of steward who looked after the forest land for his master, and paid Grubert Reuss and the rest of the woodcutters their wages.
"And pray, why the Isle of Ghosts?" asked the deep rich voice of the first speaker. "Does not everybody know that there are no ghosts, at least in these enlightened days?"
Blonda glanced through the cracks between the boulders, and saw a tall young officer in a general's undress uniform. He was standing, with the steward by his side, close to the right wall of the grotto, and facing the lake.
"This has always been the name, so far as I know, sir general," replied Philip Bexal. "The whole story is too long to tell; but since, noble sir, you are visiting our country—or this part of it—for the first time, and would know all you can about it, I will tell you what I may in a few words."
"Good; commence then, my friend," said the officer; "and I will sit on this stone and listen."
"A great, great many years ago," began Philip, "all this part of Finland was quite wild. Rock, and forest, and water, but no living creature save wild beasts, such as the wolf, the fox, the wolverine, the lynx and the bear, with the weaker animals upon which they preyed. So then the beasts had it all their own way, till there settled here—so runs the legend—a band of marauders, from no one knows where, but it was thought that their own land was in the far south. Possibly this land may have grown too hot to hold them, and hence they emigrated northward in a large vessel of their own, as tradition says.
"Sailing up the Finnish Gulf, they landed on our coast, and came inland to the lake country. Here they built for themselves rude dwellings of wood. They hunted, they fished, they sowed, they reaped, and now and again they made raids into the country round about, and voyages to other parts of the coast, and under cover of night carried off from the villages and towns booty of all sorts. And not content with this, they even intercepted in their vessel, ships with valuable cargoes, and murdered the poor men who tried to protect their property.
"So that they became a terror to the whole land; for, as they multiplied and grew stronger, there was no force found that could withstand them; and what made matters worse, noble sir, many of the wild young scapegraces among the Finns joined the robber band; and since there were no police in those far-off days, these banditti had the whole land at their mercy."
"And what did they with the property that they wrested from the people of the country?" asked the stranger.
"Some of it," replied Philip, "was taken away by ship to distant parts and sold. But no one seems to know what the robbers did with their gold and silver, though there always were stories enough about of their having amassed quantities of treasure."
"But what about this island, my man?" questioned the officer, with a good-humoured imperiousness in his voice. "Restrain thine eloquence, and come to the point."
"I humbly beg the noble sir's pardon," replied the steward; "I come at once to this matter of the island. The reports at length appeared somehow to centre here, and rumour said that in this group of rocks the riches of several generations of robbers were hoarded."
"A safe enough rumour to circulate," laughed the young officer. "It is not likely that the robbers would suffer any outsider to prove for himself the truth of the report."
"That is true, sir general; but now hear the end of the story of this evil race. Mighty as the robbers had become, and a terror and scourge in the land, a force yet mightier had gone out against them."
"And what might this have been?" enquired the stranger.
"The arm of the God of Hosts, the sentence of the Most High," replied Phil solemnly.
The officer took off his cap and crossed himself reverently.
Then he said,—"Go on, my man; I am listening."
"In the spring of one year," went on Philip Bexal, "there came from the east a terrible visitation, a pestilence such as had not been known there before. It swept through the land on the wings of the biting east wind, and men fell before it as the flies drop before the winter's breath. Right in among the lawless, godless band the black death leapt. Hard-drinking, foul-living men—what stand could they make against the awful scourge? To right and left they fell, smitten down, like Israel of old, by God's destroying angel. Only a few—so runs the tale—only a few escaped, and they took ship and fled away, leaving their goods behind, feeling, doubtless, that, like Achan, they were being punished for the possession of the accursed thing."
"And who may this Achan be of whom thou speakest?" asked the young officer.
"Noble sir, he is a character of Holy Scripture," answered Philip Bexal.
"It seems to me that thou art well versed in Holy Writ," remarked the stranger, his lip curling in a sarcastic smile.
"Sir, I am a Lutheran, and we of Luther's creed read our Bibles with diligence, finding in them the revelation of God's will and the chart for our guidance over life's sea."
"Indeed!" responded the officer dryly. "This is all very interesting, but now I will thank thee to proceed, my friend, for truth to say, thy tale is over long, and I ought to be moving on towards Klingengolf. My tarantass and post horses, as thou knowest, wait in the road not far from this."
"I have nearly finished," said Philip. "It is said that the great wave of death rolled on after a while, and this part of the land began to recover. Gradually the former haunts of the robbers became inhabited by peaceable people; a part of the denser forests were cut down, the wild beasts became scarce, and the country grew more civilized. Only that, following the bad example of the robber band, some of the people, having built ships, sailed forth to become pirates in their turn, and this did they till King Eric the Saint, of Sweden, weary of their evil practices, and of the danger to his own merchant vessels, in the twelfth century undertook a crusade against them, and compelled the people here, who were nothing better than pagans so far, to embrace Christianity. But from the time of the pestilence, every now and again rumour hath busied itself about the treasure of the robbers, though no one has ever seen a vestige of it; and to this present day, noble sir, that island is held to be the very heart of the golden mystery, and to hide somewhere in its rocky bosom the long-hoarded secret.
"Of late, especially, there has been a re-awakening of interest, since some of our villagers, while fishing at night, have seen (or so they declare) a shadowy form gliding in and out among the granite boulders, like some ghost about the tombs. And they are foolish enough to believe that the wraith of one of those dead men, more wicked perhaps than his companions, is doomed to haunt the place, ceaselessly searching, it may be, for treasure which he is never permitted to find. Great folly, sir general, such superstition," added Philip, shrugging his shoulders; "but you see—"
"I have heard it said," interrupted the stranger, silencing the steward with an impatient gesture, "that in a mountain and lake country the legends of the old days are more in number and live longer than in a flat land. This is perchance because nature has there no fastnesses wherein to store the things which make for tradition.
"Well good Philip Bexal, I thank thee for thy courtesy, and now I shall be moving on. But first, I will just peep round this singular pile of rocks; it looks, methinks, almost like a grotto."
Then Blonda heard a step, and in another moment the handsome face and lofty form of the young officer appeared in the opening.
"Good-morning, my little maid," said he kindly; "tell me thy name?"
"I am Blonda Reuss," replied the child.
"Her father is Grubert Reuss, one of the woodcutters on this estate," put in Philip, who had followed the stranger.
"And art thou an only child, little Blonda?" asked the young officer.
"No, sir, I have a brother, Tonie is his name; see, he is yonder, fishing from the raft by the island."
"He then, for one, fears not the ghosts," laughed the stranger.
"No, kind sir; why should he? Our father says, that those who fear God and trust in Him need fear nothing else in heaven or hell, but may have confidence that He who made all things can keep in their right places (wherever these may be) both the good spirits and the bad."
"Well spoken, little one! Art ready to give an answer for the faith that is in thee?" cried the stranger, laying his white gloved hand on the child's shoulder. "And pray, Blondinka, what sayest thou to this story of treasure in the Isle of Ghosts?" And the keen eyes of the officer peered enquiringly into Blonda's fair, open face.
Her gaze met his frankly and fearlessly, as she replied, "For myself, good sir, what can I say? I am a child, and I know nothing. My father tells Tonie and me not to think of there being gold hidden away in some rocky fastness of the island, for fear we should give ourselves up to the thought of it and the search for it, and thus forget our everyday work and the duty that God puts near at hand for us to do. He says, moreover, that since Scripture tells us that 'the love of money is the root of all evil,' and since also our Saviour Himself has said, 'How hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven,' it is better and safer for us never to concern ourselves about hidden gold; and he, our father, himself believes that this island is no treasure house at all. But not so Freskel Valden."
"And who may Freskel Valden be?" asked the officer. "Some wise old grey-beard who can tell many a story of the long ago?"
Blonda laughed gleefully. "Nay, sir stranger," she said, "he is but a youth, and the good God in making his body left out—so they say—half his mind. Some call him a fool, but not I, for he knows many things that we know not, and where he loves, his heart makes him wiser than the wisest."
"Would that I had as kind an advocate, my little Blonda!" said the young man. "Give my respects to thy father, child, and say that General Nicolai is glad to have met thee, and that if at any future time I should be passing this way again, I would be glad to renew my acquaintance with his little daughter, and see him and thy brother in your own home. And now farewell, dear child. If thou and thy wise, half-witted friend should chance to find the robbers' treasure, remember that I put in a claim for at least half."
And laughing good-humouredly, the tall officer went away towards the road, accompanied by Philip Bexal.
THE SIEGE OF THE COTTAGE
"MY children, I have bad news for you from Klingengolf; your father will not be home for some time. He has had a fall, and has broken his right arm badly, so that now he is in the hospital, and must stay there till the bone is set. These sad tidings came by a man who was passing through Carfoos on business, and your father sent me the message by him, begging me also to come at once and tell you, my little ones."
Tonie and Blonda were eating their supper on the third evening after Grubert's departure when Pastor Oshart came in with his bad news, which made the children very down-hearted, for they had been looking forward with gladness to Grubert's return that night, and they grieved too over the suffering which they knew such an accident must cause him.
When the good pastor had answered all the questions that were put to him, so far as it was in his power to do so, Tonie said,—
"Well then, since we are likely to be alone for some time longer, and Master Rolf Bresser is not yet ready to claim his property, were it not wise, dear pastor, for you to take it back to your house? Would it not be safer there than here?"
"Nay, my boy, nay," replied the old man. "One or other of those fellows may well be lurking about my house still. Rolf Bresser is known to have been there more than once, so the money would be supposed to be there too. No, Tonie, since so far there seems no sign of the hiding-place of the bag having been discovered, better let it rest where it is. Where have you put it, my children?"
"Upstairs, under Blonda's bed," replied Tonie.
"Good, then leave it there. And now goodbye. I will try and run over to see you to-morrow, so that, in writing to the father at Klingengolf, I may give him the latest news of his dear ones. Forget not, Tonie, to use all care and diligence in shutting up the house; and once shut, see that thou open the door to none. In this lonely place, even when we look not for danger, it is well to take all possible precautions."
The old pastor trudged off homewards; he would gladly have remained and spent the night with the children at the woodcutter's cottage, for he did not like their being alone, but he knew that his old housekeeper at home would almost no die of fear if he did not return. And he felt now as if the cottage—even though the money was there—was safer from intruders than his own house, since he fondly believed that no one had a suspicion whither the bag had been conveyed.
As for Tonie and Blonda Reuss, they were tired and sleepy, for they had been out nearly all day, so they went to bed early. And by the time the night fairly closed in, they were both sound asleep—Tonie in his slip of a room screened off from the kitchen, and Blonda in her little bed-chamber upstairs.
Tonie had been asleep for about three hours or so when he was roused by a loud knock at the front door of the cottage, the door that faced the forest, from which the house was separated only by the road. Startled, breathless, he sat up in bed, hardly knowing as yet whether he was awake or dreaming. Then came the knock again, and he sprang out of bed, hurried on some clothes, and by a sort of natural instinct was running to open the door, when he remembered the pastor's words, "When the door is once shut, open to none."
"But what if some one should be ill or in trouble, or have lost his way?" said Tonie to himself. "Surely in such case it were cruelty not to open!"
And so thinking, he paused at the door, and called through it, "Who knocks? Who is there?"
"Open to us; we would speak with thee," said a gruff voice, which Tonie did not recognise.
"That may not be," replied the boy. "My father is from home, and we are only children here; go your way, I cannot open to you."
"Alas!" said another voice, shrill and sharp, which Tonie thought sounded like that of Hervitz Valden. "My companion here hath cut himself grievously with an axe, and is faint with loss of blood. He would fain lie down for an hour or two. Let us in, and suffer him to rest on a bed for a while, and after that we will go on our way."
Just at that moment, Blonda came down, roused by the noise, and stood at her brother's elbow, wrapped in an old dark cloak.
"A man wounded with an axe; shall I let him and the other in? How thinkest thou, Blonda?" said Tonie.
"No, brother, we can but obey the commands given to us by those who are wiser than we," replied the little girl. "If harm should come of our opening, we should be blamed, and rightly. If what the man says is true, that his fellow is wounded, and would fain lie down, that what doth hinder him from lying on the moss under the trees? It is warm weather, and the ground is not damp."
"Ay, Blonda, thou art right," said Tonie.
Then he called through the door once more—"Pass on, travellers; we cannot open to you."
"Now listen, thou young imp," said another voice, which Tonie knew could belong to none other than Dorlat Valden. "We have lately been robbed of a bag of coin, and we would get back our own. We have some reason to think that the money has found its way to this cottage. Let us in quietly, and we will take our own and depart. Refuse to admit us, and thou must take the consequences. We know that thy father is disabled and in the hospital at Klingengolf. There is not a soul within miles of this place, and therefore think not that you children will have help. And, moreover, we have an old grudge against thy father, Tonie, seeing that he is a friend of that meddling old pastor, Bertholm Oshart, and if thou do not our bidding, we are ready for revenge. But I waste time in parleying with thee. Once more, wilt thou open to us?"
"We have orders to open to none to-night, and we cannot choose but obey," replied Tonie firmly.
"It is so," said Blonda; "we are but children, and we cannot choose but obey."
There was the sound of a muttered oath from Dorlat, and an impatient exclamation from Hervitz. Then the latter said,—
"By fair means or foul, ye obstinate brats, we purpose to enter; so understand this once for all. If you let us in without hindrance, no harm shall come to either of you, or to your father's goods; but if we have to break in and help ourselves, then beware, for in truth we will not spare you."
To this Tonie was about to reply, but Blonda whispered, "Answer him not; let us rather think what we shall do if the men find means to enter. The money must be saved at all costs."
"Ay, but how? There is not a place here in which we could hide it where the men will not search if once they get in. No; we must get it away somehow."
"Could we not run to Carfoos with it?" suggested Blonda anxiously.
"Too far," rejoined Tonie; "besides, we might be overtaken and robbed. Yes; that cannot be thought of, but, perhaps—"
Just then came a thundering knock with an axe upon the door. The wood cracked; the iron of the lock rang again.
The children stood staring at each other, seeming rooted to the floor in their terror.
"The lock is broken," whispered Tonie. "If now the bolt hold not, they will be in directly."
"I will run up and fetch the bag," said Blonda, and she flew upstairs and was back again, with the bag in her hand, in a moment.
Meanwhile another heavy blow had fallen, which would have split the door in two had not the long bolt held it together.
"Oh, if but our dear father were here; he would tell us what to do!" sobbed Tonie, wringing his hands in an agony of fear.
"The Heavenly Father is near us, Tonie; He heareth ever. See, the bolt holds yet, and we will cry to God to help us, so that we may not betray our trust."
Amid the noise of the rude, angry voices and the heavy blows of the axe, Blonda's clear voice sounded strangely calm and sweet.
"Great Father, Thou knowest that we are in fear, and are sore beset this night. Our other father is away, and the evil men would steal this treasure, which is not ours, but meant only for Thy poor and hungry ones. We cry to Thee for help. Show us what to do; send Thine angel to deliver us; take care of us, and likewise of this bag, for Christ's sake, Amen."
As the children rose from their knees, a great crash of glass was heard. It seemed to come from Blonda's room upstairs.
"What is that?" cried Tonie. "Surely the men have not got in through thy window?"
But the words were scarcely spoken when flying down the steep, narrow staircase came the lithe form of Freskel Valden.
"Question me not," he muttered hoarsely. "We have but a moment. Hast thou got the money, Blonda? It is well; then follow me. If but we can win forth out of these four walls, Nature shall keep the treasure for us."
So saying, Freskel led the way to the back door, and, stooping, listened intently with his ear to the key-hole.
"Good," said he, "no one is there; come, let us go."
Tonie turned the key softly in the lock, removed the wooden bar that strengthened the defences of the door, and in an instant Freskel glided out, followed by the children. As Tonie drew the back door to behind him, a great crash and shout in the house announced that the front door had at last given way.
"Quick! In among the trees with you, or we may be seen from the windows!" said Freskel, in low, hissing tones. "Dorlat has eyes like a cat, and finding you not, he may come out to look for you in the open."
The children darted into the deep shadows of the pines, and in a minute or two had reached the margin of the lake, and crouched down behind a boulder.
"Shall we hide the bag under one of these stones, Freskel?" whispered Tonie.
"Nay, nay, that were a fool's corner indeed!" replied Freskel. "Rather let it make a voyage across the lake to the island, and there shall the ghosts guard it safely for us till the pastor ask for it again."
"Then, if thou wilt convey it thither, Freskel," said Blonda, "take the raft; Tonie can paddle it for thee."
"Nay, little one, see how the moon shines! The harvest moon too; and if she turned her big yellow face on yon raft, she would betray us. Nay, I go indeed—but it must be as the fish goes. Give me the bag, Blonda; see, I will sling it by this kerchief to my neck! So—now it is safe, and the sooner I go the better. Hide, both of you, but watch too, lest the enemy come upon you unawares even here. Kiss me for luck, little Blonda, for I am going—nay—I am gone!"
And, as the lad spoke, he joined his hands above his head, and dived down into the still, black water, and when the children next caught a glimpse of his dark head, he was well on his way towards the rocky, bush-grown shore of the Isle of Ghosts.
image006
PLAYING THE GHOST
FOR two long, weary hours Tonie and Blonda waited behind the boulder by the lake side. Once only, at the end of the first half-hour, Tonie stole into the pine wood at the back of the house, and, under the deep shadow of the trees, glanced up at the windows, and saw a light in one after another, as the men pursued their search for the money.
When the light flashed through the window of Blonda's little room, the boy noticed that the glass was broken away. Close to the casement, a tall birch tree reared its stately form, and Tonie understood at once how Freskel had contrived to get into the house, and wondered at his ingenuity and courage. To come to the help of the besieged children, he must have climbed the long, straight, silvery stem like a squirrel, and then swung out from a bough until he could grasp the window ledge, gain a footing there, and dash through the glass.
"Was it not bold of him, and clever too?" said Tonie, when he rejoined his sister in the niche where she was hiding, and told her how Freskel had managed to come to their assistance.
"Yes; and he came as God's answer to our prayer for help," said Blonda, with kindling eyes. "Tonie, surely thou and I can never doubt God again. How frightened we were! We knew not what to do, or whither to go, but no sooner had we cried to the good Lord to send us help than we heard the crash of the window, and down came Freskel like an angel from the skies. And knowest thou, Tonie, what was in my mind as we opened the door so quietly, so easily, and passed out? It seemed to me that, perchance, thus felt the apostle Peter when God sent the angel at night to strike off his chains, and open barred doors for him, and lead him forth out of prison, and from the death that threatened him."
Tonie gave a little chuckle. "I know not how Peter felt," said he, "but think you not, little sister, that Freskel Valden is rather a queer angel?"
"I know not—I care not!" replied the child, peering out earnestly across the water, while Tonie, standing up, watched, for fear of surprise, the bit of pine wood behind which stood the cottage. "Does it matter what an angel looks like, so long as he is the messenger of God, and comes to our help? Could one of the white-robed and flying ones do more?"
"Strange that this same angel of thine comes not back from the island!" remarked Tonie, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Only think, my Blonda, what it would be if, after all, he had played us false, and gone off with the—"
"Tonie! For shame! How canst thou?" said the little girl indignantly. "Think but how faithful, how loyal he has been for years to our pastor! And besides, Tonie, would God have sent us a bad angel in answer to our prayer? Nay—if our earthly parents, as Jesus says, could never give us a stone when we ask for bread, is it likely that the loving Father in Heaven would send us a curse instead of a blessing, when we cried to Him for help? Nay, Tonie, I have full faith in poor Freskel, and I would answer for his honesty with my life."
"Poor Freskel thanks and blesses thee for that, Blonda!" said a low voice in her ear, and turning quickly, she saw Freskel, who had approached unobserved and unheard.
The little girl looked up at him in wonder, for his face was full of excitement, with great eyes that shone like lamps under his streaming locks.
"The bag of coin—is it safe, Freskel?" asked Tonie.
"Safe!" laughed the youth. "Oh yes! So safe that none save Freskel could ever find it; though, after all, a bag of treasure more or less—what matters it, when untold wealth lies ready for the finding."
"Thou wert absent a long time, Freskel," said Blonda gently. "Tell us, was it so hard to find a place wherein the bag could be hidden safely?"
But Freskel did not appear to hear. A strange, triumphant look lighted up his face, as he stood gazing out across the water at the Isle of Ghosts, which reared its rugged points under the moonlight, clothed in a weird and spectral splendour.
"Who said I could not keep a secret?" he murmured at last, in a strange, sing-song voice. "The winds of heaven say not whence they come nor whither they go; the flowers have no words to tell us who paints their cheeks, and tints their eyes, and unfolds their leaflets one by one. They keep their secrets, and Freskel keeps his."
"But surely thou wilt tell the dear pastor—wilt thou not—where his friend's money lies hidden?" questioned Tonie.
"His friend's money? What money?" said the youth vaguely.
"Art thou mad, Freskel? What should it be but the bag of coin that thou hast just hidden lest the robbers steal it away."
"Ach, yes; I remember now," answered Freskel, more quietly. "Fear not; the pastor shall know all about it. But now, go home, and to bed, you two, and Freskel will go to the pastor's house."
"But how know we that the robbers are not still lurking about near the cottage?" Tonie asked.
"They have gone," replied Freskel. "I caused them to hear strange voices and to see a strange face, and they were smitten with fear, and fled away, thinking perchance that the ghosts of the old, old robbers of the long ago were claiming them for fellows and mates."
The children stood and stared in horror the half-witted youth.
"Now thou must be altogether mad!" remarked Tonie severely. "Thou! How couldst thou make them afraid with thy voices and faces, when thou wert in the island hiding the bag?"
"Hush Tonie, be not so harsh to him!" whispered Blonda. "Freskel dear," and she turned to the youth with a smile, "thou hast been good to us, and we thank and bless thee. Nay, but now I was saying to my brother that thou wert even as God's angel sent to us in our distress. But and if thou seek to deceive us thus with lying vanities, what, oh what must we think of thee? God's angels of help tell no falsehoods."
"Neither doth Freskel," replied the lad. "Listen, Blonda, for I would not that such a little white-souled thing as thou should think evil of me. Thinkest thou that I was all the time on the island? Nay; I hid away the bag, and also I found what I sought not, and suddenly possessed what I coveted not.
"Then, all at once, I remembered Dorlat and Hervitz, and wondered if they were still at the cottage, and I swam back to another part of the shore, and crept up through the wood, and opened the back door softly, listened, and heard them upstairs hunting, hunting for what was not there. So then, Tonie, I slipped into thy room, and wrapped myself in a sheet from thy bed, and stood in the passage by the back door, this being open and the moonlight coming in. There I stood, half in light and half in shadow, and howled grievously, and struck on the door handle with a knife that I took from the kitchen.
"Then Dorlat, my big brother, came down the stair, and spied the ghost, and he gave one cry, and fled out through the broken door, and after him came Hervitz, and also two others. And for a short space I followed them, gliding in my white robe through the wood, and howling to speed their flight. Then I returned, leaving the sheet in the house, and came hither to you. So, Blonda, I am no liar; nay, and if poor Freskel was God's angel to you when he led you forth, he is no less so now that he has chased the evil-doers from your home."
"Forgive me, my poor Freskel," cried Blonda, penitently. "Thou hast done nobly, and we can never thank thee enough."
"It is well; I go now to the pastor," said the youth, "and tell him all—all—save only one thing; but that is poor Freskel's secret. Poor Freskel? No, not poor! Rich Freskel—but a secret! A secret! Where did I hear those words: 'A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that which hath wings shall tell the matter'? Did the pastor read them in the church? I know not—I know not, but I hope they are not true."
And the youth moved slowly away, a dreamy, absorbed expression in his face and a strange light in his eyes.
The children went home, and found the whole house in confusion, the intruders having turned everything upside down in their search for the money. But Tonie managed to barricade the broken door with some of the kitchen furniture, and Blonda hung an old quilt before her smashed window.
Then the young folk went to bed, and slept peacefully on far into the morning.