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

It was not the same big men that had come with him that time⁠—no, the two of them had stayed behind, having business elsewhere, no doubt. But the same engineer was there, and the mining expert that had come at first. They bought up all the sawn planks Isak could spare, bought food and drink and paid for it well, chatted in kindly fashion and were pleased with Sellanraa. “Aerial railway,” they said. “Cable haulage from the top of the fjeld down to the waterside,” they said.

“What, down over all this moorland here?” said Isak, being slow to think. But they laughed at that.

“No, on the other side, man; not this way, ’twould be miles to go. No, on the other side of the fjeld, straight down to the sea; a good fall, and no distance to speak of. Run the ore down through the air in iron tanks; oh, it’ll work all right, you wait and see. But we’ll have to cart it down at first; make a road, and have it hauled down in carts. We shall want fifty horses⁠—you see, we’ll get on finely. And we’ve more men on the works than these few here⁠—that’s nothing. There’s more coming up from the other side, gangs of men, with huts all ready to put up, and stores of provisions and material and tools and things⁠—then we meet and make connection with them halfway, on the top, you see? We’ll make the thing go, never fear⁠—and ship the ore to South America. There’s millions to be made out of it.”

“What about the other gentlemen,” asked Isak, “that came up here before?”

“What? Oh, they’ve sold out. So you remember them? No, they’ve sold. And the people that bought them out have sold again. It’s a big company now that owns the mine⁠—any amount of money behind it.”

“And Geissler, where’ll he be now?” asks Isak.

“Geissler? Never heard of him. Who’s he?”

“Lensmand Geissler, that sold you the place first of all.”

“Oh, him! Geissler was his name? Heaven knows where he is now. So you remember him too?”

Blasting and working up in the hills, gangs of men at work all through the summer⁠—there was plenty doing about the place. Inger did a busy trade in milk and farm produce, and it amused her⁠—going into business, as it were, and seeing all the many folk coming and going. Isak tramped about with his lumbering tread, and worked on his land; nothing disturbed him. Sivert and the two stoneworkers got the new cowshed up. It was a fine building, but took a deal of time before it was finished, with only three men to the work, and Sivert, moreover, often called away to help in the fields. The mowing-machine was useful now; and a good thing, too, to have three active women that could take a turn at the haymaking.

All going well; there was life in the wilds now, and money growing, blossoming everywhere.

And look at Storborg, the new trader’s place⁠—there was a business on a proper scale! This Aron must be a wizard, a devil of a fellow; he had learned somehow beforehand of the mining operations to come, and was on the spot all ready, with his shop and store, to make the most of it. Business? He did business enough for a whole State⁠—ay, enough for a king! To begin with, he sold all kinds of household utensils and workmen’s clothes; but miners earning good money are not afraid to spend it; not content with buying necessaries only; they would buy anything and everything. And most of all on Saturday evenings, the trading station at Storborg was crowded with folk, and Aron raking money in; his clerk and his wife were both called in to help behind the counter, and Aron himself serving and selling as hard as he could go at it⁠—and even then the place would not be empty till late at night. And the owners of horseflesh in the village, they were right; ’twas a mighty carting and hauling of wares up to Storborg; more than once they had to cut off corners of the old road and make new shortcuts⁠—a fine new road it was at last, very different from Isak’s first narrow path up through the wilds. Aron was a blessing and a benefactor, nothing less, with his store and his new road. His name was not Aron really, that being only his Christian name; properly, he was Aronsen, and so he called himself, and his wife called him the same. They were a family not to be looked down upon, and kept two servant-girls and a lad.

As for the land at Storborg, it remained untouched for the present. Aronsen had no time for working on the soil⁠—where was the sense of digging up a barren moor? But Aronsen had a garden, with a fence all round, and currant bushes and asters and rowans and planted trees⁠—ay, a real garden. There was a broad path down it, where Aronsen could walk o’ Sundays and smoke his pipe, and in the background was the verandah of the house, with panes of coloured glass, orange and red and blue. Storborg⁠ ⁠… And there were children⁠—three pretty little things about the place. The girl was to learn to play her part as daughter of a wealthy trader, and the boys were to learn the business themselves⁠—ay, three children with a future before them!

Aronsen was a man to take thought for the future, or he would not have come there at all. He might have stuck to his fishery, and like enough been lucky at that and made good money, but ’twas not like going into business; nothing so fine, a thing for common folk at best. People didn’t take off their hats to a fisherman. Aronsen had rowed his boat before, pulling at the oars; now he was going to sail instead. There was a word he was always using: