Читать книгу Giants in the Earth: A Saga of the Prairie - O. E. Rölvaag - Страница 30

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. . . While they sat waiting for the porridge to cool, they watched with anxious attention the Indian band as it crept up the slope of the hill toward the crest. The foremost team reached the summit, passed some distance beyond it on the other side, and came to a halt; at that they all drew up, the whole train forming a crescent around the brow of the hill, facing the house of Per Hansa. One by one the horses were unhitched from the rickety wagons and turned loose on the prairie. . . . Per Hansa's face brightened still more as he noticed this move. People who did a thing like that could have no evil intentions!

Just then, however, Sörine's cow, which was still grazing some distance off on the prairie, suddenly seemed to go crazy. She bellowed loud and long, lifted her head and tail high in the air, and galloped away toward the wagons of the newcomers. All watched her in amazement. Sörine burst out crying, blaming herself for being so shortsighted as to forget all about her precious cow. . . . As he saw the beast gallop away, Per Hansa cursed it from the bottom of his heart.

In an instant, before the little company sitting there had found time to gather their scattered wits, all the rest of their cattle were smitten by the same craze. At the first bellow of Sörine's cow they had looked up inquiringly, had caught sight of the new arrivals, and at once had started off behind their leader--Rosie first, then Kjersti's Brindlesides--both rearing their tails on high and galloping straight toward the camp of the Indians.

. . . "Damn the luck!" muttered Per Hansa between his teeth. "There goes the milk for our porridge! . . . The devil salt and burn their blasted tails!"

A far-away "moo-o-o" drifted in from the north, and there the Solum boys' Daisy came running at full speed, to join the deserters!¹

¹ The cattle of the first settlers, from the wandering habits they had formed during the outward journey, had to be watched, for they wanted to join every caravan that came along.

At that Per Hansa burst into a loud laugh. . . . "You'd better go after your cow," he said to Sam, "unless you want to munch dry porridge all winter!"

The women took the matter each in her own way, according to her feeling for her particular cow. Kjersti wept and took on, vowing that this was the worst thing that had ever happened to her--it was just awful; Sörine's eyes were moist, but she believed that her cow would come back, just the same; she had never seen a better cow than Dolly and had tended her like a mother. . . . But Beret remained quite calm; she seemed more annoyed than frightened. Why didn't one of the men go after the cows? . . . When they remained sitting and made no move, she rose and laid her spoon aside.

"We must get them at once," she announced, firmly. "If the Indians were to leave to-night, the cows would follow--that is perfectly plain!" . . . She took And-Ongen in her arms and started for the hill.

"Good Heavens, Beret," cried Kjersti in despair. "You must be crazy!"

Per Hansa gazed fondly at his wife; across his face came a light that almost made him handsome. . . . There was a woman for you! . . . He got up before she had gone many steps, and ran to her side.

"Go back and eat, Beret-girl! There isn't anything to worry about, really and truly. . . . Leave the cows to me. It can just as well wait till after we have eaten. . . . We must behave like well-mannered folk, you know."

As they sat over the last of their porridge Per Hansa drew such ghastly pictures to Sam of the cruelty with which the Indians would probably treat the cows, that the women shuddered at his words. . . . "I've often heard--have read it in books, too--that Indians would rather take the scalp of a cow any day, than of a man. . . . Haven't you ever read about it? Huh! that's strange! . . . Well, they're just crazy, you see, for the scalp of a cow. They dry them out and use them for winter caps!" . . .

Beret looked at him reproachfully. It seemed to her that it ill behooved him to talk in this fashion; if they were all afraid, they couldn't help it; the words sounded coarse in his mouth, and seemed to coarsen him also. . . . "Can't you shut up with that talk!" she said in her quiet, cutting way, without looking up. "It isn't such a brave and manly thing, to terrorize poor womenfolk who are frightened already."

Per Hansa fell suddenly silent; his face grew burning red. In all the years that they had lived together it had never happened till now that she had shamed him before others. And she had spoken so quietly--hadn't even looked up! . . . He ate his porridge slowly and thoughtfully. What she had said kept repeating itself in his mind, and cut deeper each time.

At last he laid his spoon aside and got to his feet; he stuck his pipe in his mouth--the pipe that had been empty and cold so long now, for lack of fuel--and began sucking the stem.

"I suppose in all fairness, Sam, you ought to go chasing your own damned beast--you who are such a sharper in both the American and Indian languages!" he snapped out. . . . "But--oh, well, there might be some women over there who were worth having a look at!" he muttered with plain insinuation. "I guess I'd better go myself and make it a good job!"

Store-Hans jumped up like a flash and put his hand in his father's. . . . Per Hansa glanced down into the beaming, ruddy face that smiled up at him and begged so earnestly. . . . But the boy uttered never a word.

"Come along, then," said the father. Still holding the outstretched hand, he began to walk away.

"Hans, come here!" his mother cried out, sharply. A wild anxiety had come into her voice--a note of desperate pleading.

"No," said Per Hansa, shortly. "Hans is going with me." . . . He waited for no answer, but grasped the boy's hand firmly and started off.