Читать книгу Giants in the Earth: A Saga of the Prairie - O. E. Rölvaag - Страница 33

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During the first part of the night Per Hansa kept constant vigil over the sick man, frequently looking at his watch and changing the bandages; every time the hand was exposed he rubbed in a few more drops from Hans Olsa's bottle. It was evident from the man's face that the pain was growing no worse; he even slept at intervals.

Midnight passed. The whole camp was now asleep; the men lay around like mummies, wrapped in their gaudy blankets, their feet towards the fire. Occasionally one of them would rise and throw on more wood; Per Hansa noticed that it was always the same man. . . . The night was vast and still; the glow of the fire spread a strange light a little way around . . . beyond hovered impenetrable darkness.

Per Hansa felt tired and drowsy; he realized that he would have to pull himself together in order to keep going through the middle watch. . . . Suddenly he pricked up his ears; in an instant he was wide awake. He had heard a sound like steps in the grass, off on one side--steps that seemed to be hesitating as if in fear. They trod cautiously, drawing closer and closer, then they stopped, as if the person were listening. . . . He glanced around; the sick man slept at his side; all the others seemed to be sleeping. Who could it be, reconnoitring so quietly out there? . . . He got up abruptly, stepped closer to the fire, and stood fully revealed against the glare. Now the steps were heard again, firmly approaching. . . . The next moment Beret stood within the circle of the camp fire, silently looking at him.

Per Hansa's eyes leaped out and embraced his wife's form: a great glow of love and tenderness surged through him. . . . "Beret-girl, come here!" he called in a low voice. "Don't be frightened; the whole crew is asleep!"

She advanced slowly to the side of the fire where he stood; but she did not look at him. Her face was flushed and swollen with weeping. . . . "How she must have been crying!'' he thought; and the memory of his harsh words filled him with deep remorse. He went up to her timidly, took her by the hand, and led her nearer the fire . . . "Beret, you ought to be sleeping at this hour of the night! . . . Have you been frightened again?"

Her body shook with sobs; they tore her so convulsively that she could not speak a word. Like a crushed thing she sank inertly to the ground. He threw himself down beside her, put one arm around her waist, and sought her hand. . . . Then she began to weep softly; he heard it, and stroked the hand he had found. After a while he had tried to say, lightly: "I guess the old fellow is going to pull through, all right." . . . But the moment the words were out of his mouth he felt that he hadn't said the right thing; in his confusion, he asked her how all the others were at home.

She made no response to either of his attempts; then he heard the sick Indian stir, and looked around at him. The man lay wide awake, staring at them fixedly with his black, beady eyes.

For a while Per Hansa busied himself once more with the injured hand; the man sat up as the treatment went on; Beret rose and stood close by, watching the operation.

"If you had a string to tie around the rags, so that they wouldn't loosen when they got dry, they would keep the heat longer," she said in a low voice, but calm and clear.

"Oh yes! . . . If I only had it!"

She turned away for a moment and began fumbling at her clothes; then, with a bashful but determined air, she handed him one of her home-braided garters. . . . "Will this do?" she asked.

"Do? . . . My God! Beret, that's exactly what we need!" . . . He bound up the sick hand tightly, and tied the garter around the bandage. . . . "The fellow's better already!" he cried. "I can see it in his eyes--and his hand feels softer. . . . But it's still bad enough; he isn't over it yet, by any means!"

When the bandage had been firmly fastened the Indian got up, went to one of the wagons, and fetched three heavy blankets; these he gave to Per Hansa, motioning that they should cover themselves and lie down.

"Now, doesn't that show, Beret, what decent people they are? . . . I think the fellow will be able to take care of himself for a while. We might as well turn in!" . . . He wrapped one blanket around her, another around himself; then they both lay down with their feet to the fire, and pulled the third blanket over the two of them. Per Hansa put his arm around his wife and held her close in a fond, protecting embrace. "Now try to sleep, my dear Beret-girl!" he whispered, reassuringly . . . She dropped off almost at once, and slept until the crimson dawn fell on the eastern prairie.

The Indians remained for another day and night. During their stay Per Hansa spent more time with them than he did at home. Store-Hans practically lived on the hill, keeping an eye on things. And Ole, too, strolled over to the Indian camp at odd times. . . . But Sam Solum let the savages severely alone; and the women, though they were curious to see the camp, felt too timid to venture near.

The Indians, for their part, kept strictly to themselves. They did not once approach the houses of the settlement; neither, strange to say, did they allow their women to come over.

It was noon of the third day before they broke camp, to continue the journey northward. The hand of the sick man still looked very bad, but the immediate danger seemed to be over. Per Hansa had made a sling for him, in which he carried his arm. When the long train of queer-looking teams had got well under way, they saw the sick Indian coming down the hill toward the house, leading a fully saddled pony by the bridle; one of the wagons stood waiting for him farther along the hill.

The fellow is probably coming to say good-bye, thought Per Hansa; he got up and went to meet him. Beret and the children followed slowly a little way behind. The man walked straight up to Per Hansa and uttered a few unintelligible words; he laid in Per Hansa's hand the bridle by which he was leading the pony; then he said a few more words, made a short, stiff bow, turned on his heel and stalked away. . . . He was a tall, broad-shouldered savage, well built and handsome.

"Has the old boy gone stark crazy?" exclaimed Per Hansa. "Can you imagine what he means?"

"He wants to give you the pony!" shouted Store-Hans, his eyes round with wonder.

Per Hansa roared out an emphatic protest, and started after the stranger. . . . "No, no!" he cried. "That will never do!" . . .

But the Indian only strode to the waiting wagon, climbed in, and rode away.

"I've never seen the beat of it in all my born days!" said Per Hansa, solemnly. He stood as if dumfounded, holding the bridle over his arm. . . . "Saddle and everything!" . . .

Store-Hans gave a leap into the air, turned a somersault, which immediately had to be repeated. Never in his life had he felt so supremely happy. . . . Then he and his brother ran over to claim the prize.