Mari, Our Little Norwegian Cousin

The little church was so full that Ole and Mari were crowded near the door with the other children. But they could see everything that was going on.

"Isn't she beautiful?" whispered Mari, to a little girl behind her. "I don't believe our queen in her own palace can look grander than she."

When the service was over, the wedding party left the church and turned toward the shore. Was the good time over now, do you think? By no means, for a whole week's merriment had only begun.

The bridal party seated themselves in the boat in which they had arrived. The other boats were quickly filled; the fiddler began to play a lively air; the rowers pulled with long, steady strokes, and as they moved out over the clear, sunlit waters, one of the party began to sing. Others joined in the song until the air seemed filled with music.

Ole and Mari stood on the shore together with the others who had not gone with the young couple to their new home.

"Gustav has made a lovely new house for Frigga," Ole told his sister. "I sailed over there last week with Olaf, and it was just done. The last piece of furniture was also finished. I wish we were going there to-day; what fun everybody will have, feasting and dancing."

"Never mind, Ole, we shall be grown up before many years. And then we shall be invited to the wedding-parties," said Mari. "Let's go in swimming and have some fun by ourselves this afternoon."

Several other children followed the example of Ole and Mari. Soon there was such a splashing and diving that the echoes of the noise came sounding back from the mountainsides. Norse children are great swimmers. When Mari was no more than five years old she had learned to feel as much at home in the water as the mermaids of whom her mother told in stories. She could stay below as long as Ole; she could dive, and tread water, and swim backwards. There was nothing to fear, for sharks were never seen near that shore, and the water was so clear one could see to the very bottom, no matter how deep it might be.

CHAPTER VII

LEGENDS

"I am afraid I shall have to go to lumbering this winter," said Mari's father, as the family sat around the great open fireplace.

Henrik had been home from the mountain pasture for two weeks. It was growing cold, and Jack Frost had paid several visits to the farm already.

"What a shame it is that the crops turned out so badly," answered his wife. "In one more week of good weather, you could have saved everything."

"Yes, that is true, wife, but we cannot help it. We lost nearly everything on account of the frost. If you are to live in comfort, I must earn money now in some other way. Two of the farm-hands can go with me to the camp in the woods, so I shall not be very lonely."

The farmer looked around the cheerful room, and sighed. Mari went to his side, and put her arms around his neck.

"Dear father, we shall miss you so much," she said. "You will come home at Christmas, anyway, won't you?"

"O yes, the camp is not so far away but I shall try to be back for one night out of every two weeks. Henrik and Ole will take good care of you girls and your mother, I know. They will be able to visit me, too. They are both good runners on the skis (skees). Although the camp is miles away, it will not seem much to them, eh, Ole?"

"It will be grand sport," answered the boy, quickly. "We will run a race to see which one of us can get there first. Of course Henrik will win. But who cares? I don't."

The two boys had been busy all day making new skis for themselves. Great sport the children would have all this winter sliding down the hillsides.

Coasting on sleds! yes, there was plenty of that, too, on the snowy slopes around Mari's home. But ski-lobing was better fun, by far. Mari had learned to slide on skis long ago. They were made from two strips of wood, six feet long, with pointed ends curved upward. When they were strapped on her stout shoes the little girl could slide over the snow at a wonderful rate, without sinking or falling.

No, there was no sport like ski-lobing. Mari had the sled Henrik made for her two years ago, and her two brothers sometimes dragged her on it down to the village. Sometimes all the children went coasting with their sleds. "But it isn't as good as ski-lobing," they would always say when they came home.

And it was no wonder; you would agree with them, if you could once see them travel. It was almost like flying. They would stand together at the top of a slope.

"Ready!" Henrik would cry.

Then away! they would all start downwards. It seemed but a second before all were standing at the foot of the hill, out of breath and rosy as the reddest winter apples.

"Now for the top," cried the leader, after a moment's rest; and up they would go again.

It is easy to understand now why Ole and Henrik were not afraid of a long trip on skis over the snow-covered fields and hills. They were so skilful they would get to the camp in two hours at most.

After an afternoon's sport on the hillside, the children once more gathered in the big living-room.

"Tell us some of the good old stories we love so much," said Mari. "There is no one who tells them so well, dear father."

It was the last evening he would be at home. The next morning he must start out for the cold, dreary camp in the woods. Every one was feeling sad, but all tried to hide it and seem gay and cheerful.

"What shall it be, a fairy-story, or a tale of the gods and goddesses in whom the Vikings believed?" he asked when the children had gathered around him, in front of the blazing logs in the fireplace.

"First let us hear that wonderful legend of the beginning of the world," answered Mari. "It is told in the Eddas, you know."

"Very well, then. Shut your eyes and try to think of a time when there was no earth, nor sun, nor stars, and the Great Father was All."

Mari opened her eyes after a moment and said, softly, "How lonely it must have been, papa."

"A time came, however," her father went on, "when all was changed. For out of the thoughts of the All-Father, the Land of Winter was formed in the far north. It was wrapped in ice and cold and mist. Then, far away to the south, arose the Land of Heat and Fire, whose flames never died nor burned low.

"Now, between the land of darkness and cold, and the land of light and heat, there was a great abyss, into which the icy rivers from the north were ever flowing. Mist rose from these waters and rushed to meet the sparks from the fires which were ever burning in the south lands. And as they met, a wondrous giant came into life, the child of Heat and Cold."

"Who was there to care for him when he was little?" asked Mari.

"He needed no one, because he was not like ourselves, my dear; still, he must have food. And so a wonderful cow appeared, to give him milk. As she licked the ice from the stones, a new being gradually took shape and arose. He was like ourselves, Mari, only larger, nobler, mightier. He was the father of all the gods, of whom you have read so many stories. I believe you are fondest of the god Odin, are you not, Ole?"

"Yes, father, and it is because so many brave and noble things are told of him. But please go on with the story. You haven't yet told us how this world was made."

"The gods made it out of the body of the giant, whom they were obliged to kill."

"They killed him because he grew wicked and evil, didn't he, papa?"

"Yes, Mari, and that was a good reason, without doubt. The gods now used all their thought and power in making the world beautiful. The mountains that reach up so grandly toward the sky were their work, as well as the beautiful valleys, the rivers winding through the green meadows, the rushing cataracts, and the blue lakes. It is, indeed, a wonderful earth. Round it all the gods wrapped the great oceans which send their arms far up into our shores."

"But how were the stars made?" asked Mari.

"The gods first made the blue heaven which stretches above us, and dwarfs were put at each corner to keep it in place. Sparks arising from the realm of fire were caught and changed into stars, and they were set on high to give light.

"A giantess whose name was Night had a son called Day. The gods were kind to them and gave them beautiful chariots and swift horses with which to ride through the heavens. Look out of the window, children, and see how bright it is. That is because the mane of Night's horse is shedding light upon the earth as he travels onward.

"When the sun and the moon, day and night, were established, the gods set to work to build a home for themselves. They looked about for the most beautiful spot, and decided upon a high plain on the summit of a lofty mountain. The glorious city was built, and the gods settled in their new home. It was the Golden Age of the world, for there was no sickness, nor death, nor sorrow, nor pain.

"In the very centre of the wondrous city the gods fashioned a golden hall for themselves, and in it there was a shining throne for each one. They had many games and sports, in which they vied with each other in strength and skill. They had a smithy, where they shaped iron and gold and silver into powerful tools and weapons. It was here that the rainbow was made, which you see at times arching over the heavens.

"But the gods were not satisfied. They looked over the earth and saw no living creatures. They said among themselves:

"'We will make the dwarfs, who shall live in the earth and work the mines.'

"But this was not all, for Odin, your favourite among the gods, said to his brothers:

"'Look yonder at those two trees, the ash and the elm, standing side by side. We will make man and woman from them. They shall people the earth and we will care for them as our children.'

"So it came to pass that our race began to live among the hills and valleys, and has been here ever since. But the gods have never deserted us, but are ever ready to help and protect us. At least, all this is what the legend teaches."

"Of course, there are no real gods, are there?" said Mari.

"The only gods are our beautiful souls, my daughter. They can never die nor do evil, any more than these gods in whom our old Vikings really believed. The giants are our earthly natures that are constantly trying to make us forget our godlike souls. But we shall conquer them at last, just as the gods always succeeded in mastering the giants, no matter how strong or clever they were."

"Didn't it take a long time to do it, papa? The Golden Age didn't last after quarrelling began, did it?"

"No. The gods had their troubles and sorrows as well as men. But, as I said before, the gods always ended by being successful."

"Are you too tired to tell another story, father? This time I wish we could hear something about the fairies. Won't you tell us about Ashiepattle?"

Now Ashiepattle is one of the favourites of all Norse children, and many tales are told of his wonderful deeds.

"Which story shall it be?" asked the farmer.

"The one about his eating with the troll," cried Mari and Ole, together.

Their father laughed. "You are never tired of that, although you are almost a man, Ole. Listen, then, and you shall hear how this brave boy ate with the giant.

"Once upon a time there was a man who had three sons. The older boys were idle and lazy and would do no work. Their father was too old and feeble to compel them. He had a fine wood-lot, and he wished them to go out and cut down the trees. Then he would be able to sell lumber and pay his bills; but for a long time the sons gave no heed to his request.

"At length, however, they began to listen and think the plan was a good one. The oldest son shouldered his axe and started for the forest. But he had no sooner begun his work upon a big tree, than a troll suddenly appeared at his side.

"'That is my tree,' said the troll. 'If you cut it down, I will kill you at once.'

"The boy was terribly frightened. And it is scarcely to be wondered at, for the troll was an immense, fierce-looking creature. Dropping his axe, he started for home on the run, and did not stop to look around till he got there.

"'You coward,' cried his father when he heard his story. 'When I was a boy no troll was ever able to scare me away from my work.'

"'I will go,' said the second son. 'I shall not be afraid, you may believe.'

"He started out with a brave heart, and was soon at work in the forest. But his axe had hardly struck the first tree when the troll appeared before him.

"'Spare the tree, if you wish me to spare your life,' cried the giant.

"The boy did exactly as his brother had done before him. All his bravery disappeared the moment he looked upon the giant. Without stopping a moment he fled for home, and rushed into the house breathless.

"'What a foolish, cowardly fellow,' cried his father. 'You are not much like me when I was young. No troll ever drove me away from my work.'

"'Let me try, father,' said little Ashiepattle. 'I am not afraid.'

"His two brothers looked at him in astonishment. 'You try, when we have both failed! You, who never go out of the house, what an idea!' And they laughed in scorn.

"Nevertheless, Ashiepattle went to the forest. But first, he asked his mother for a good supply of food. She at once put on the pot and made him a cheese, for she had nothing ready. With this in his bag, he started out merrily and was soon at work. The axe was sent straight into the heart of the tree, and the chips flew right and left. But just then a deep, gruff voice was heard close by.

"'Stop at once,' cried the troll, 'or you shall die.'

"Now, do you suppose Ashiepattle followed his brothers' example, and that he fled from the troll? He never thought of such a thing. He did run, to be sure, but only for a short distance, to the spot where he had left his cheese. Coming back to the place where the troll stood, he squeezed his cheese with all his might.

"'Keep still, or I will squeeze you just as I am squeezing this cheese,' he shouted.

"It would have made you laugh to see that little fellow talking to the big giant in this way; but the troll was a coward, as all big blusterers are, and somehow Ashiepattle felt it. His quick mind told him that he was a human being, and wiser than all the trolls. What do you suppose the troll did, children? He cried, 'Spare me!' with a voice trembling with fear. 'If you will only spare me, I will help you cut down the trees,' he added, in haste.

"That afternoon great work was done in the forest. Many great trees were laid low; for the troll had wonderful strength in his big arms, and he showed himself a fine helper.

"When night came the troll proposed that Ashiepattle should go home with him to supper.

"'It is nearer than your house,' he said.

"So Ashiepattle went with the troll to his home in the forest.

"Before the supper could be made ready, a fire must be made in the fireplace. The troll said he would do this if Ashiepattle would draw some water from the well.

"When the boy looked at the iron buckets he should have to fill, he knew that he could not even lift them; but he was too wise to say this.

"'I won't bother with those buckets,' he told the troll; 'I will bring the well itself. Then you will be sure to have water enough.'

"'O, don't do that,' cried the troll, in fear, 'for I will have no well left. Let me get the water, while you make the fire.'

"This suited Ashiepattle, of course, for it was exactly what he wished. The water was brought, and a great kettleful of porridge was soon ready to eat, so the troll and the boy sat down together at the table.

"'I can eat more than you, although you are so much larger,' said Ashiepattle to his host.

"'Let us see you try,' said the troll, who felt sure he could beat the boy.

"What do you think Ashiepattle did? When the troll was not looking, he seized the bag in which he had kept the cheese, and, fastening it in front of him, he slipped most of the porridge he received into that, instead of his mouth. At last it was quite full. Ashiepattle then took his knife and cut a hole in it, while the troll watched him in wonder. After awhile the giant exclaimed:

"'I really can't eat any more. I shall have to admit you have beaten me.'

"'Didn't you see what I did?' cried his visitor. 'If you cut a hole in your stomach as you saw me do, you can eat as long as you wish.'

"'But didn't it hurt terribly?' asked the troll.

"'No, indeed. Try it and see for yourself,' replied Ashiepattle, laughing inside all the while.

"The troll did as he was told, and you may guess what happened. He fell on the floor in agony and died in a few moments.

"And what did our brave little Ashiepattle do? He searched for the stores of gold and silver belonging to the troll, and soon succeeded in finding them. He started for home in great glee, for now he could pay his father's debt and free the old man from trouble."

"Listen," cried Henrik, as his father finished the story. "There is a noise outside as though something were the matter. Do you suppose foxes have dared to come near and are disturbing the hens?"

"We will soon find out," cried the farmer, jumping to his feet. "Hand me my gun from the wall, good wife, and Henrik, take yours and follow me."

They crept out of the house with as little noise as possible, while Ole and Mari flattened their noses against the window-panes. But it was pitch-dark outside, and they could see nothing.

Bang, bang! went a gun.

"They found him, they found him," shouted Ole, jumping up and down. "I do hope he was hit."

A few minutes after, steps were heard coming back to the house. Ole rushed to the door and opened it. There stood his father holding a large red fox by the nape of the neck. The eyes of the animal were glassy, for he was quite dead.

"He was creeping away over the snow when we saw him," said the farmer, "and he had one of my finest hens in his mouth. I don't believe this was his first visit, either, for you know, wife, we have lost several fowls lately. Henrik, you and Ole may skin this sly fellow and make a mat for your mother. But it is getting late, and I must start early in the morning, so to bed, one and all."

CHAPTER VIII

THE LUMBER CAMP

The whole family were awake bright and early the next morning. Mari and Greta helped their mother in packing the birch-bark knapsack with the provisions their father needed to carry with him to the forest. There must be a good supply of dried meat and fish, sugar, butter, and flour. Last, but not least, the coffee was packed safely inside. What would the good man and his helpers do without this refreshing drink? When they returned to the hut after a day's chilling work, a bowl of hot coffee would fill them with new life.

"Ole and I will come next week and bring you fresh supplies," said Henrik, as his father bade them good-bye and the three men started out on their snow-shoes over the crisp snow.

They were soon out of sight and the rest of the family returned to their work. But little Mari, who loved her father very tenderly, kept thinking of the hard, cold work before him. What kind of a home would he find when he got into the forest? There would be no shelter of any kind.

He and his men must go to work at once and saw some logs, with which they would build a rough hut. They would stuff the chinks with moss to keep out the great cold, or else they would freeze to death.

What furniture would they have? A large, flat stone would serve as a fireplace, while the bed would be made of poles placed side by side and covered with moss. That was all. They must sleep as close to the fire as possible, and even then they would suffer greatly during the long, freezing nights.

"I am so sorry the crops failed," said Mari to her mother when she had thought of all these things. "I almost wish father had gone to work fishing this winter. I don't believe that would have been as hard work."

"The sea has its own dangers, my daughter," answered her mother. "Think of the fearful storms that rage along our coast and the sad deaths that have come to some of our friends. No, Mari, lumbering is hard work, but it is safer, I think, than fishing in the winter season."

Ole had come into the room while they were talking.

"It's cold and uncomfortable for father this winter, I know," he said, "but the greatest danger is in the spring-time, when he has to float the logs down the narrow streams to the sawmills."

"Why is that so dangerous?" asked Mari.

"Because his work isn't over when he has once launched the logs into the water. He must watch them in their course and see that they get to their journey's end. Suppose one log gets across the stream and blocks the way? Then father must wade out into the water and pull that log aside with his boat-hook. He has to spend a good deal of his time in the water, and is likely to freeze his feet, or get a terrible cold, at any rate. Perhaps he has to jump on the logs as he pulls them apart. Suppose he slips and, falling through, is jammed to death between the logs!

"There, there, Mari, dear, don't cry. I shouldn't have said all this. Father will probably get along all right and come home safe in the spring."

Henrik put his strong arms around his little sister, and she had soon forgotten her fears and was laughing heartily over the fairy-story he was telling her.

The next week after their father left home, Henrik and Ole started out on a visit to the camp, carrying with them a stock of provisions large enough to supply the men for several days longer.

"Take your gun, Henrik," said his mother, "for you can't tell what wild creatures you may meet on the way. It would be a fine surprise for your father if you should present him with a hare or a deer. Some fresh meat would make a rare treat for the men."

The boys skimmed over mile after mile of snowy ground, and nothing unusual happened. No houses were in sight all this time, and there were no tracks of living creatures. It was lonely, and dreary, and quiet.

They were nearing their journey's end, and were climbing the side of a hill, when Henrik suddenly stopped.

"See, Ole," he whispered, "there are the tracks of some four-footed beast ahead of us. They are too heavy and big for hares'. It may be we are near some bear's den. Look out, for you know the old ones are sometimes very fierce. Let us follow the tracks for a while and see what we come to, anyway."

"Shouldn't we be proud if we could find him and kill him?" answered Ole. "Roasted bear's meat makes a pretty good dinner."

The boys travelled very carefully now, for they had come into the thick woods. The tracks suddenly came to an end at a pile of logs lying at one side.

"Perhaps the bear has a snug home under those logs," said Henrik, in a low tone, as he seized his gun.

At that very moment the boys heard a sound, and at once a huge brown bear appeared. He moved sleepily, as though he had just been wakened, but as soon as he got sight of the boys he roused, and his face became fierce.

No time was to be lost, but Henrik was as cool as any old hunter. His hand did not tremble as he took careful aim. Whizz! flew the bullet just as the bear prepared to come at them. It would have gone straight into his heart if he had not suddenly raised his paw, but it entered that instead.

"Run for your life, Ole," shouted his brother, as the huge and angry brute dashed toward them.

Even as he spoke, the bear knocked Ole down, and would have made short work of him if it had not been for Henrik's coolness. A second shot from his gun broke the animal's neck. He rose on his hind legs, and plunged blindly forward only to fall dead at Henrik's feet.

"It's a good thing we are trained to be soldiers at school," the brave boy said afterward, when he told the story to his father. "I really believe I should have lost my head, if it hadn't been for that training. But I said to myself: 'You never fail at home in hitting the mark, why should you now?' It gave me courage, father."

His father smiled and answered, "You have done well, Henrik. I am proud of you."

This was said as the boys sat around the fire in the log hut that night. As soon as they were sure the bear was really dead, they had hurried on to the camp, which was only a short distance away. Then, as soon as they had told of their luck, the men went back with them to skin the bear and cut up and bring in the meat. They brought it to the camp on a rough sledge.