The Song of the Blood-Red Flower Part 15

"At last!" cried the girl, and jumping down, ran out through the pa.s.sage to the steps in front of the house.

"Daisy!" said the newcomer. His voice was hardly audible, but his eyes spoke plainly enough, as he stepped up and set his ski and staves against the wall.

The girl answered with a nod and a radiant smile.

He hurried up the steps, and stood beside her.

"Daisy!" he said again, and pressed his cold hands playfully against her cheeks.

"No, thank you!" cried the girl merrily, grasping his wrists. "I've been waiting for you, though, ever so long. Mother's gone in to town, and the men haven't come back from the woods yet."

"And you've been left all alone, and horribly frightened, of course,"

laughed the young man, holding the girl's head between his hands, and pus.h.i.+ng her before him in through the doorway.

They went inside, and he hung up his knapsack on the wall.

"Guess what I've been thinking of to-day all the way home?"

"Oh, you know I never can guess your riddles. What is it?"

"Only"--he drew her down on the seat beside him--"that you ought to have a pair of ski too. If only I can get hold of some proper wood, I'll make a pair in no time."

"No, no, 'tis not worth it. And I can't use them if you did."

"That's just why. You've got to learn. And then you'll be able to come out with me. Come out to the forest one day, and I'll show you something."

"What'll that be, I'd like to know? Only your ugly old stacks of wood."

"Why, as to that, they're none so ugly, after all. And I'll lift you up and set you on top of the highest of all.... No, that wasn't what I meant. But you ought to see.... Out there in the forest, it's a different world altogether. Roads and villages of its own--ay, and churches and priests...."

"What nonsense you do talk!" laughed the girl.

"'Tis true, though, for all that. Come out with me, and see if it's not as I say.... Come now, there's plenty of time."

"What are you thinking of? Of course we couldn't go now--nor any other time."

"Yes, we can. And now best of all."

He went across to the corner by the cupboard, took a woollen wrap that had been hung on the line to dry, and fastened it laughingly round her head.

"There--now we're ready."

The girl laughed doubtfully, took off the wrap again, and stood hesitating.

"Oh! Don't you understand yet?" He took the wrap and twisted it in his hands. "You've got to pretend. It's two weeks gone now, and your ski are all ready. We've tried them once or twice out in the meadow, and you manage first-rate, able to go anywhere. And so off we go.... Look there!"

The girl joined in the game. She moved across to the window, and looked out into the yard.

"There! I've set the ski all ready, and we put them on. Father and mother and brothers looking out to see us start. There--that's mother knocking at the window.

"'Be careful not to take her up the big hills,' says mother. 'She'll fall and hurt herself if you do!'

"And I tell her we're going up to the very top of the biggest hill we can find. And off we go.

"And you get along splendidly. Fall--not a bit of it! Off we go to the other end of the meadow, and then through the little copse out on to Hirvisuo--all as easy as play.

"Then we come to a fence--and that's rather more than you can manage.

Nothing for it but I must pick you up and lift you over--and you put your arms round me so prettily...."

Here the girl broke in hastily: "No, no! I shall turn back if you go on like that!"

"No, you mustn't. It's a very high fence, this one. You can get over the others, perhaps, by yourself. We'll see.--And so we go on, and make our way up the slope of Kaltasenmaki--it's a heavy climb there.

But you know the ground--you've fetched the cows home from there many a time. And it's just there the woodcutting begins.

"Now we're up at the top. It's early morning, of course, I forgot that. The sun's just up, and the snow all glittering underfoot and the frost like stars hung in the branches overhead. There! look at the trees over there on the other side. All white and clean and lovely--just like you. And stars of frost there too, sparkling like your eyes. And you think it's lovely too--never dreamed the forest was like that. And of course you haven't--for n.o.body can till they've seen it for themselves. There! look at that great road there lower down--that's the main track, where all the heavy timber goes--hauled up from a dozen little paths either side--a score of loads sometimes, one after another. And some of the men come singing, or whistling, some talking and calling out to the rest; 'tis a merry business carting down the timber loads to the river. And see there on the slope--a couple of empty sledges on the way back--isn't it fine?

"And of course you say it is, and it was true all I told you about the forest before. And it gets finer as we go on--you can hear the axe at work all round about, echoing over across the valley. Now we must go and say a word to the men.

"But you don't want to, but I say we must, and you can stay behind a little if you like. And so off we go down the hillside--hey, what a pace! And up the next, and there we are on the top. We can see them at work down in the valley below. It looks like a lot of ants at work, you think. And so it does. And we go across, and you've got to be careful and show how nicely you can go. The snow's all frozen, and creaks underfoot; the men look up, and the stupid ones stand staring open-mouthed. And I bid them good-day, and go up to them a little ahead, and they answer again, and some of them touch their caps, not knowing quite what to do. All of them look astonished--what's this come to see them now? And I tell them it's just a young lady from the town, come out to see a bit of the country, and I'm showing her round. They understand that all right. And then I tell them you're a foreigner, and can't speak a word of their tongue, and that's why you stay behind and won't come up. Then they're all surprised again at that, and some of them won't believe there can be folk that don't speak their language at all; but I tell them it's true all the same, and they stare again, the stupid ones gaping wider than before.

"'She's put on country clothes so as not to be noticed,' I tell them; 'and if you saw her in her fine dresses, with a real hat on her head and all--why, your eyes'd fall out of your heads, if you stare like that now.' And they laugh at that, a roar of laugh that echoes all round.

"Then I come back to you, and we go on again.

"But now you begin scolding me for playing silly tricks and telling them all those wild tales--there's neither sense nor meaning in it, you say. But then I simply ask you if you didn't see yourself what a treat it was for the men. Simple woodcutter folk--it'll be something to remember all their lives, how one day a beautiful foreign lady came out to visit them in the forest. And then you must remember to be a foreigner all day. If I have to speak to you when there's anyone else about, I say it in Swedish; you can't speak Swedish, of course, but all you have to do is just nod and smile and speak with your eyes--that's all that's needed.

"'But I won't,' you say. 'I'm not going to pretend like that.'"

Here the girl herself broke in: "No, that I certainly wouldn't either, so that's true enough."

"Oh, but you'd have to, you know, once we've started. And so we go on. There's n.o.body from our parts among the gangs at work there, so there's no risk of anyone knowing you really.

"And so we go on, from one gang to another. And it all goes off splendidly. But then we come to a clearing, where the men are just lighting a fire of pine knots. It's their dinner-time, and we're going to sit down and have dinner with them, say I.

"But of course you make a fuss, and say you won't, but you give in after a bit--it's easy enough. You've only to sit down, and say '_Tack, Tack_' in Swedish whenever I pa.s.s you anything.

"The men are at work about the fire as we come up. And you're all excitement, and red and white by turns, just like any grand lady from foreign parts. And I tell them the same thing again, about you putting on country clothes and all that, and ask if we may sit down--and perhaps the foreign young lady might like to eat a morsel too.

"'We've naught that's fit to offer the likes of her,' say the men.

"'She can eat what other folks can, I suppose,' say I.

"Then they all tumble over one another to make a nice seat for you with twigs of pine. Then we sit down, and I'm on the outside, in case you want anything.

"Oh, it's grand. The fire flames up, and the snow melting like b.u.t.ter all round and under, and the men's faces all aglow. One of them's roasting a piece of meat, another fish, on a skewer, and the others bring out their frozen bread and thaw it soft and fresh as if it had just come out of the oven. And I do the same, toasting a piece of meat and thawing some bread, and put one on the other and cut up your part with my knife, to neat little bits all ready.

"And the men are all so interested they forget to eat.

"'I hope it's to your taste, my lady?' That's me talking in Swedish as I pa.s.s it. And you nod and smile, and eat just a little to try, and the moment you've tasted it you open your mouth and I know as sure as anything you're just on the point of saying right out in Finnish that it's first-rate, and you've never tasted anything so good.... So I have to put in a word myself or you'll spoil it all. 'A little more, if you please, my lady?' Like that."