Growth of the Soil by Knut Hamsun (chromebook ebook reader txt) 📕

“Ho!” said Isak, and fell to boxing up long planks as hard as he could.

Off hurries Geissler to Sivert once more: “That’s right⁠—keep at it⁠—didn’t I say he was a sturdy sort? Follow these stakes, you understand, where I’ve marked out. If you come up against heavy boulders, or rock, then turn aside and go round, but keep the level⁠—the same depth; you see what I mean?”

Then back to Isak again: “That’s one finished⁠—good! But we shall want more⁠—half a dozen, perhaps. Keep at it, Isak; you see, we’ll have it all green by tomorrow⁠—we’ve saved your crops!” And Geissler sat down on the ground, slapped his knees with both hands and was delighted, chattered away, thought in flashes of lightning. “Any pitch, any oakum, or anything about the place? That’s splendid⁠—got everything. These things’ll leak at the edges you see, to begin with, but the wood’ll swell after a while, and they’ll be as taut as a bottle. Oakum and pitch⁠—fancy you having it too!⁠—What? Built a boat, you say? Where is the boat? Up in the lake? Good! I must have a look at that too.”

Oh, Geissler was all promises. Light come, light go⁠—and he seemed more giving to fussing about than before. He worked at things by fits and starts, but at a furious rate when he did work. There was a certain superiority about him after all. True, he exaggerated a bit⁠—it was impossible, of course, to get all green by this time tomorrow, as he had said, but for all that, Geissler was a sharp fellow, quick to see and take a decision; ay, a strange man was Geissler. And it was he and no other that saved the crops that year at Sellanraa.

“How many have you got done? Not enough. The more wood you can lay, the quicker it’ll flow. Make them twenty feet long or twenty-five, if you can. Any planks that length on the place? Good; fetch them along⁠—you’ll find it’ll pay you at harvest-time!”

Restless again⁠—up and off to Sivert once more. “That’s the way, Sivert man; getting on finely. Your father’s turning out culverts like a poet, there’ll be more than I ever thought. Run across and get some now, and we’ll make a start.”

All that afternoon was one hurrying spell; Sivert had never seen such a furious piece of work; he was not accustomed to see things done at that pace. They hardly gave themselves time to eat. But the water was flowing already! Here and there they had to dig deeper, a culvert had to be raised or lowered, but it flowed. The three men were at it till late that night, touching up their work, and keenly on the look out for any fault. But when the water began to trickle out over the driest spots, there was joy and delight at Sellanraa. “I forgot to bring my watch,” said Geissler. “What’s the time, I wonder? Ay, she’ll be green by this time tomorrow!” said he.

Sivert got up in the middle of the night to see how things were going, and found his father out already on the same errand. Oh, but it was a thrilling time⁠—a day of great events!

But next day, Geissler stayed in bed till nearly noon, worn out now that the fit had passed. He did not trouble to go up and look at the boat on the lake; and but for what he had said the day before, he would never have bothered to look at the sawmill. Even the irrigation works interested him less than at first⁠—and when he saw that neither field nor meadow had turned green in the course of the night, he lost heart, never thinking of how the water flowed, and flowed all the time, and spread out farther and farther over the ground. He backed down a little, and said now: “It may take time⁠—you won’t see any change perhaps before tomorrow again. But it’ll be all right, never fear.”

Later in the day Brede Olsen came lounging in; he had brought some samples of rock he wanted Geissler to see. “And something out of the common, this time, to my mind,” said Brede.

Geissler would not look at the things. “That the way you manage a farm,” he asked scornfully, “pottering about up in the hills looking for a fortune?”

Brede apparently did not fancy being taken to task now by his former chief; he answered sharply, without any form of respect, treating the ex-Lensmand as an equal: “If you think I care what you say⁠ ⁠…”

“You’ve no more sense than you had before,” said Geissler. “Fooling away your time.”

“What about yourself?” said Brede. “What about you, I’d like to know? You’ve got a mine of your own up here, and what have you done with it? Huh! Lies there doing nothing. Ay, you’re the sort to have a mine, aren’t you? He he!”

“Get out of this,” said Geissler. And Brede did not stay long, but shouldered his load of samples and went down to his own ménage, without saying goodbye.

Geissler sat down and began to look over some papers with a thoughtful air. He seemed to have caught a touch of the fever himself, and wanted now to look over that business of the copper mine, the contract, the analyses. It was fine ore, almost pure copper; he must do something with it, and not let everything slide.

“What I really came up for was to get the whole thing settled,” he said to Isak. “I’ve been thinking of making a start here, and that very soon. Get a lot of men to work, and run the thing properly. What do you think?”

Isak felt sorry for the man, and would not say anything against it.

“It’s a matter that concerns you as well, you know. There’ll be a lot of bother, of course; a lot of men about the place, and a bit rowdy at times, perhaps. And blasting up in the hills⁠—I don’t know how you’ll like that. On the