A Happy Boy by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson (best ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📕

over: "Fair maid, you will lose your garter." She instantly vanished, but afterwards rewarded the silent and considerate youth with beautiful presents and a good breed of cattle. FAYE'S _Traditions_.--NOTE BY TRANSLATOR.]

"Ah! that is so. You have never told me how you got rid of Jon Hatlen."

"I laughed."

"How?"

"Laughed. Do not you know what it is to laugh?"

"Yes; I can laugh."

"Let me see!"

"Whoever beard of such a thing! Surely, I must have something to laugh at."

"I do not need that when I am happy."

"Are you happy now, Marit?"

"Pray, am I laughing now?"

"Yes; you are, indeed."

He took both her hands in his and clapped them together over and over again, gazing into her face. Here the dog began to growl, then his hair bristled and he fell to barking at something below, growing more and more savage, and finally quite furious. Marit sprang back in alarm; but Oyvind went forward and looked down. It was his father the dog was barking at. He was standing at the foot of the cliff with both hands in his pockets, gazing at the dog.

"Are you there, you two? What mad dog is that you have up there?"

"It is the dog from the Heidegards," answered Oyvind, somewhat embarrassed.

"How the deuce did it get up there?"

Now the mother had put her head out of the kitchen door, for she had heard the dreadful noise, and at once knew what it meant; and laughing, she said,--

"That dog is roaming about there every day, so there is nothing remarkable in it."

"Well, I must say it is a fierce dog."

"It will behave better if I stroke it," thought Oyvind, and he did so.

The dog stopped barking, but growled. The father walked away as though he knew nothing, and the two on the cliff were saved from discovery.

"It was all right this time," said Marit, as they drew near to each other again.

"Do you expect it to be worse hereafter?"

"I know one who will keep a close watch on us--that I do."

"Your grandfather?"

"Yes, indeed."

"But he shall do us no harm."

"Not the least."

"And you promise that?"

"Yes, I promise it, Oyvind."

"How beautiful you are, Marit!"

"So the fox said to the raven and got the cheese."

"I mean to have the cheese, too, I can assure you."

"You shall not have it."

"But I will take it."

She turned her head, but he did not take it.

"I can tell you one thing, Oyvind, though." She looked up sideways as she spoke.

"Well?"

"How homely you have grown!"

"Ah! you are going to give me the cheese, anyway; are you?"

"No, I am not," and she turned away again.

"Now I must go, Oyvind."

"I will go with you."

"But not beyond the woods; grandfather might see you."

"No, not beyond the woods. Dear me! are you running?"

"Why, we cannot walk side by side here."

"But this is not going together?"

"Catch me, then!"

She ran; he after her; and soon she was fast in the bushes, so that he overtook her.

"Have I caught you forever, Merit?" His hand was on her waist.

"I think so," said she, and laughed; but she was both flushed and serious.

"Well, now is the time," thought he, and he made a movement to kiss her; but she bent her head down under his arm, laughed, and ran away. She paused, though, by the last trees.

"And when shall we meet again?" whispered she.

"To-morrow, to-morrow!" he whispered in return.

"Yes; to-morrow."

"Good-by," and she ran on.

"Marit!" She stopped. "Say, was it not strange that we met first on the cliff?"

"Yes, it was." She ran on again.

Oyvind gazed long after her. The dog ran on before her, barking; Marit followed, quieting him. Oyvind turned, took off his cap and tossed it into the air, caught it, and threw it up again.

"Now I really think I am beginning to be happy," said the boy, and went singing homeward.


CHAPTER X.


One afternoon later in the summer, as his mother and a girl were raking hay, while Oyvind and his father were carrying it in, there came a little barefooted and bareheaded boy, skipping down the hill-side and across the meadows to Oyvind, and gave him a note.

"You run well, my boy," said Oyvind.

"I am paid for it," answered the boy.

On being asked if he was to have an answer, the reply was No; and the boy took his way home over the cliff, for some one was coming after him up on the road, he said. Oyvind opened the note with some difficulty, for it was folded in a strip, then tied in a knot, then sealed and stamped; and the note ran thus:--



"He is now on the march; but he moves slowly. Run into the woods and hide yourself!
THE ONE YOU KNOW."

"I will do no such thing," thought Oyvind; and gazed defiantly up the hills. Nor did he wait long before an old man appeared on the hill-top, paused to rest, walked on a little, rested again. Both Thore and his wife stopped to look. Thore soon smiled, however; his wife, on the other hand, changed color.

"Do you know him?"

"Yes, it is not very easy to make a mistake here."

Father and son again began to carry hay; but the latter took care that they were always together. The old man on the hill slowly drew near, like a heavy western storm. He was very tall and rather corpulent; he was lame and walked with a labored gait, leaning on a staff. Soon he came so near that they could see him distinctly; he paused, removed his cap and wiped away the perspiration with a handkerchief. He was quite bald far back on the head; he had a round, wrinkled face, small, glittering, blinking eyes, bushy eyebrows, and had lost none of his teeth. When he spoke it was in a sharp, shrill voice, that seemed to be hopping over gravel and stones; but it lingered on an "r" here and there with great satisfaction, rolling it over for several yards, and at the same time making a tremendous leap in pitch. He had been known in his younger days as a lively but quick-tempered man; in his old age, through much adversity, he had become irritable and suspicious.

Thore and his son came and went many times before Ole could make his way to them; they both knew that he did not come for any good purpose, therefore it was all the more comical that he never got there. Both had to walk very serious, and talk in a whisper; but as this did not come to an end it became ludicrous. Only half a word that is to the point can kindle laughter under such circumstances, and especially when it is dangerous to laugh. When at last Ole was only a few rods distant, but which seemed never to grow less, Oyvind said, dryly, in a low tone,--

"He must carry a heavy load, that man,"--and more was not required.

"I think you are not very wise," whispered the father, although he was laughing himself.

"Hem, hem!" said Ole, coughing on the hill.

"He is getting his throat ready," whispered Thore.

Oyvind fell on his knees in front of the haycock, buried his head in the hay, and laughed. His father also bowed down.

"Suppose we go into the barn," whispered he, and taking an armful of hay he trotted off. Oyvind picked up a little tuft, rushed after him, bent crooked with laughter, and dropped down as soon as he was inside the barn. His father was a grave man, but if he once got to laughing, there first began within him a low chuckling, with an occasional ha-ha-ha, gradually growing longer and longer, until all blended in a single loud peal, after which came wave after wave with a longer gasp between each. Now he was under way. The son lay on the floor, the father stood beside him, both laughing with all their might. Occasionally they had such fits of laughter.

"But this is inconvenient," said the father.

Finally they were at a loss to know how this would end, for the old man must surely have reached the gard.

"I will not go out," said the father; "I have no business with him."

"Well, then, I will not go out either," replied Oyvind.

"Hem, hem!" was heard just outside of the barn wall.

The father held up a threatening finger to his boy.

"Come, out with you!"

"Yes; you go first!"

"No, you be off at once."

"Well, go you first."

And they brushed the dust off each other, and advanced very seriously. When they came below the barn-bridge they saw Ole standing with his face towards the kitchen door, as if he were reflecting. He held his cap in the same hand as his staff, and with his handkerchief was wiping the sweat from his bald head, at the same time pulling at the bushy tufts behind his ears and about his neck until they stuck out like spikes. Oyvind hung behind his father, so the latter was obliged to stand still, and in order to put an end to this he said with excessive gravity,--

"Is the old gentleman out for a walk?"

Ole turned, looked sharply at him, and put on his cap before he replied,--

"Yes, so it seems."

"Perhaps you are tired; will you not walk in?"

"Oh! I can rest very well here; my errand will not take long."

Some one set the kitchen door ajar and looked out; between it and Thore stood old Ole, with his cap-visor down over his eyes, for the cap was too large now that he had lost his hair. In order to be able to see he threw his head pretty far back; he held his staff in his right hand, while the left was firmly pressed against his side when he was not gesticulating; and this he never did more vigorously than by stretching the hand half way out and holding it passive a moment, as a guard for his dignity.

"Is that your son who is standing behind you?" he began, abruptly.

"So they say."

"Oyvind is his name, is it not?"

"Yes; they call him Oyvind."

"He has been at one of those agricultural schools down south, I believe?"

"There was something of the kind; yes."

"Well, my girl--she--my granddaughter--Marit, you know--she has gone mad of late."

"That is too bad."

"She refuses to marry."

"Well, really?"

"She will not have any of the gard boys who offer themselves."

"Ah, indeed."

"But people say he is to blame; he who is standing there."

"Is that so?"

"He is said to