PART I. The Wild Land
PART II. Neighboring Fields
PART III. Winter Memories
PART IV. The White Mulberry Tree
PART V. Alexandra
I
One
January day, thirty years ago, the little town of Hanover, anchored
on a windy Nebraska tableland, was trying not to be blown away. A
mist of fine snowflakes was curling and eddying about the cluster
of
low drab buildings huddled on the gray prairie, under a gray sky.
The
dwelling-houses were set about haphazard on the tough prairie sod;
some of them looked as if they had been moved in overnight, and
others as if they were straying off by themselves, headed straight
for the open plain. None of them had any appearance of permanence,
and the howling wind blew under them as well as over them. The main
street was a deeply rutted road, now frozen hard, which ran from
the
squat red railway station and the grain “elevator” at the north
end of the town to the lumber yard and the horse pond at the south
end. On either side of this road straggled two uneven rows of
wooden
buildings; the general merchandise stores, the two banks, the drug
store, the feed store, the saloon, the post-office. The board
sidewalks were gray with trampled snow, but at two o’clock in the
afternoon the shopkeepers, having come back from dinner, were
keeping
well behind their frosty windows. The children were all in school,
and there was nobody abroad in the streets but a few rough-looking
countrymen in coarse overcoats, with their long caps pulled down to
their noses. Some of them had brought their wives to town, and now
and then a red or a plaid shawl flashed out of one store into the
shelter of another. At the hitch-bars along the street a few heavy
work-horses, harnessed to farm wagons, shivered under their
blankets.
About the station everything was quiet, for there would not be
another train in until night.On
the sidewalk in front of one of the stores sat a little Swede boy,
crying bitterly. He was about five years old. His black cloth coat
was much too big for him and made him look like a little old man.
His
shrunken brown flannel dress had been washed many times and left a
long stretch of stocking between the hem of his skirt and the tops
of
his clumsy, copper-toed shoes. His cap was pulled down over his
ears;
his nose and his chubby cheeks were chapped and red with cold. He
cried quietly, and the few people who hurried by did not notice
him.
He was afraid to stop any one, afraid to go into the store and ask
for help, so he sat wringing his long sleeves and looking up a
telegraph pole beside him, whimpering, “My kitten, oh, my kitten!
Her will fweeze!” At the top of the pole crouched a shivering gray
kitten, mewing faintly and clinging desperately to the wood with
her
claws. The boy had been left at the store while his sister went to
the doctor’s office, and in her absence a dog had chased his kitten
up the pole. The little creature had never been so high before, and
she was too frightened to move. Her master was sunk in despair. He
was a little country boy, and this village was to him a very
strange
and perplexing place, where people wore fine clothes and had hard
hearts. He always felt shy and awkward here, and wanted to hide
behind things for fear some one might laugh at him. Just now, he
was
too unhappy to care who laughed. At last he seemed to see a ray of
hope: his sister was coming, and he got up and ran toward her in
his
heavy shoes.His
sister was a tall, strong girl, and she walked rapidly and
resolutely, as if she knew exactly where she was going and what she
was going to do next. She wore a man’s long ulster (not as if it
were an affliction, but as if it were very comfortable and belonged
to her; carried it like a young soldier), and a round plush cap,
tied
down with a thick veil. She had a serious, thoughtful face, and her
clear, deep blue eyes were fixed intently on the distance, without
seeming to see anything, as if she were in trouble. She did not
notice the little boy until he pulled her by the coat. Then she
stopped short and stooped down to wipe his wet face.
“
Why,
Emil! I told you to stay in the store and not to come out. What is
the matter with you?”
“
My
kitten, sister, my kitten! A man put her out, and a dog chased her
up
there.” His forefinger, projecting from the sleeve of his coat,
pointed up to the wretched little creature on the pole.
“
Oh,
Emil! Didn’t I tell you she’d get us into trouble of some kind,
if you brought her? What made you tease me so? But there, I ought
to
have known better myself.” She went to the foot of the pole and
held out her arms, crying, “Kitty, kitty, kitty,” but the kitten
only mewed and faintly waved its tail. Alexandra turned away
decidedly. “No, she won’t come down. Somebody will have to go up
after her. I saw the Linstrums’ wagon in town. I’ll go and see if
I can find Carl. Maybe he can do something. Only you must stop
crying, or I won’t go a step. Where’s your comforter? Did you
leave it in the store? Never mind. Hold still, till I put this on
you.”She
unwound the brown veil from her head and tied it about his throat.
A
shabby little traveling man, who was just then coming out of the
store on his way to the saloon, stopped and gazed stupidly at the
shining mass of hair she bared when she took off her veil; two
thick
braids, pinned about her head in the German way, with a fringe of
reddish-yellow curls blowing out from under her cap. He took his
cigar out of his mouth and held the wet end between the fingers of
his woolen glove. “My God, girl, what a head of hair!” he
exclaimed, quite innocently and foolishly. She stabbed him with a
glance of Amazonian fierceness and drew in her lower lip—most
unnecessary severity. It gave the little clothing drummer such a
start that he actually let his cigar fall to the sidewalk and went
off weakly in the teeth of the wind to the saloon. His hand was
still
unsteady when he took his glass from the bartender. His feeble
flirtatious instincts had been crushed before, but never so
mercilessly. He felt cheap and ill-used, as if some one had taken
advantage of him. When a drummer had been knocking about in little
drab towns and crawling across the wintry country in dirty
smoking-cars, was he to be blamed if, when he chanced upon a fine
human creature, he suddenly wished himself more of a man?While
the little drummer was drinking to recover his nerve, Alexandra
hurried to the drug store as the most likely place to find Carl
Linstrum. There he was, turning over a portfolio of chromo
“studies”
which the druggist sold to the Hanover women who did
china-painting.
Alexandra explained her predicament, and the boy followed her to
the
corner, where Emil still sat by the pole.
“
I’ll
have to go up after her, Alexandra. I think at the depot they have
some spikes I can strap on my feet. Wait a minute.” Carl thrust his
hands into his pockets, lowered his head, and darted up the street
against the north wind. He was a tall boy of fifteen, slight and
narrow-chested. When he came back with the spikes, Alexandra asked
him what he had done with his overcoat.
“
I
left it in the drug store. I couldn’t climb in it, anyhow. Catch me
if I fall, Emil,” he called back as he began his ascent. Alexandra
watched him anxiously; the cold was bitter enough on the ground.
The
kitten would not budge an inch. Carl had to go to the very top of
the
pole, and then had some difficulty in tearing her from her hold.
When
he reached the ground, he handed the cat to her tearful little
master. “Now go into the store with her, Emil, and get warm.” He
opened the door for the child. “Wait a minute, Alexandra. Why can’t
I drive for you as far as our place? It’s getting colder every
minute. Have you seen the doctor?”
“
Yes.
He is coming over to-morrow. But he says father can’t get better;
can’t get well.” The girl’s lip trembled. She looked fixedly up
the bleak street as if she were gathering her strength to face
something, as if she were trying with all her might to grasp a
situation which, no matter how painful, must be met and dealt with
somehow. The wind flapped the skirts of her heavy coat about
her.Carl
did not say anything, but she felt his sympathy. He, too, was
lonely.
He was a thin, frail boy, with brooding dark eyes, very quiet in
all
his movements. There was a delicate pallor in his thin face, and
his
mouth was too sensitive for a boy’s. The lips had already a little
curl of bitterness and skepticism. The two friends stood for a few
moments on the windy street corner, not speaking a word, as two
travelers, who have lost their way, sometimes stand and admit their
perplexity in silence. When Carl turned away he said, “I’ll see
to your team.” Alexandra went into the store to have her purchases
packed in the egg-boxes, and to get warm before she set out on her
long cold drive.When
she looked for Emil, she found him sitting on a step of the
staircase
that led up to the clothing and carpet department. He was playing
with a little Bohemian girl, Marie Tovesky, who was tying her
handkerchief over the kitten’s head for a bonnet. Marie was a
stranger in the country, having come from Omaha with her mother to
visit her uncle, Joe Tovesky. She was a dark child, with brown
curly
hair, like a brunette doll’s, a coaxing little red mouth, and
round, yellow-brown eyes. Every one noticed her eyes; the brown
iris
had golden glints that made them look like gold-stone, or, in
softer
lights, like that Colorado mineral called tiger-eye.The
country children thereabouts wore their dresses to their shoe-tops,
but this city child was dressed in what was then called the “Kate
Greenaway” manner, and her red cashmere frock, gathered full from
the yoke, came almost to the floor. This, with her poke bonnet,
gave
her the look of a quaint little woman. She had a white fur tippet
about her neck and made no fussy objections when Emil fingered it
admiringly. Alexandra had not the heart to take him away from so
pretty a playfellow, and she let them tease the kitten together
until
Joe Tovesky came in noisily and picked up his little niece, setting
her on his shoulder for every one to see. His children were all
boys,
and he adored this little creature. His cronies formed a circle
about
him, admiring and teasing the little girl, who took their jokes
with
great good nature. They were all delighted with her, for they
seldom
saw so pretty and carefully nurtured a child. They told her that
she
must choose one of them for a sweetheart, and each began pressing
his
suit and offering her bribes; candy, and little pigs, and spotted
calves. She looked archly into the big, brown, mustached faces,
smelling of spirits and tobacco, then she ran her tiny forefinger
delicately over Joe’s bristly chin and said, “Here is my
sweetheart.”The
Bohemians roared with laughter, and Marie’s uncle hugged her until
she cried, “Please don’t, Uncle Joe! You hurt me.” Each of
Joe’s friends gave her a bag of candy, and she kissed them all
around, though she did not like country candy very well. Perhaps
that
was why she bethought herself of Emil. “Let me down, Uncle Joe,”
she said, “I want to give some of my candy to that nice little boy
I found.” She walked graciously over to Emil, followed by her lusty
admirers, who formed a new circle and teased the little boy until
he
hid his face in his sister’s skirts, and she had to scold him for
being such a baby.The
farm people were making preparations to start for home. The women
were checking over their groceries and pinning their big red shawls
about their heads. The men were buying tobacco and candy with what
money they had left, were showing each other new boots and gloves
and
blue flannel shirts. Three big Bohemians were drinking raw alcohol,
tinctured with oil of cinnamon. This was said to fortify one
effectually against the cold, and they smacked their lips after
each
pull at the flask. Their volubility drowned every other noise in
the
place, and the overheated store sounded of their spirited language
as
it reeked of pipe smoke, damp woolens, and kerosene.Carl
came in, wearing his overcoat and carrying a wooden box with a
brass
handle. “Come,” he said, “I’ve fed and watered your team, and
the wagon is ready.” He carried Emil out and tucked him down in the
straw in the wagonbox. The heat had made the little boy sleepy, but
he still clung to his kitten.
“
You
were awful good to climb so high and get my kitten, Carl. When I
get
big I’ll climb and get little boys’ kittens for them,” he
murmured drowsily. Before the horses were over the first hill, Emil
and his cat were both fast asleep.Although
it was only four o’clock, the winter day was fading. The road led
southwest, toward the streak of pale, watery light that glimmered
in
the leaden sky. The light fell upon the two sad young faces that
were
turned mutely toward it: upon the eyes of the girl, who seemed to
be
looking with such anguished perplexity into the future; upon the
sombre eyes of the boy, who seemed already to be looking into the
past. The little town behind them had vanished as if it had never
been, had fallen behind the swell of the prairie, and the stern
frozen country received them into its bosom. The homesteads were
few
and far apart; here and there a windmill gaunt against the sky, a
sod
house crouching in a hollow. But the great fact was the land
itself,
which seemed to overwhelm the little beginnings of human society
that
struggled in its sombre wastes. It was from facing this vast
hardness
that the boy’s mouth had become so bitter; because he felt that men
were too weak to make any mark here, that the land wanted to be let
alone, to preserve its own fierce strength, its peculiar, savage
kind
of beauty, its uninterrupted mournfulness.The
wagon jolted along over the frozen road. The two friends had less
to
say to each other than usual, as if the cold had somehow penetrated
to their hearts.
“
Did
Lou and Oscar go to the Blue to cut wood to-day?” Carl
asked.
“
Yes.
I’m almost sorry I let them go, it’s turned so cold. But mother
frets if the wood gets low.” She stopped and put her hand to her
forehead, brushing back her hair. “I don’t know what is to become
of us, Carl, if father has to die. I don’t dare to think about it.
I wish we could all go with him and let the grass grow back over
everything.”Carl
made no reply. Just ahead of them was the Norwegian graveyard,
where
the grass had, indeed, grown back over everything, shaggy and red,
hiding even the wire fence. Carl realized that he was not a very
helpful companion, but there was nothing he could say.
“
Of
course,” Alexandra went on, steadying her voice a little, “the
boys are strong and work hard, but we’ve always depended so on
father that I don’t see how we can go ahead. I almost feel as if
there were nothing to go ahead for.”
“
Does
your father know?”
“
Yes,
I think he does. He lies and counts on his fingers all day. I think
he is trying to count up what he is leaving for us. It’s a comfort
to him that my chickens are laying right on through the cold
weather
and bringing in a little money. I wish we could keep his mind off
such things, but I don’t have much time to be with him
now.”
“
I
wonder if he’d like to have me bring my magic lantern over some
evening?”Alexandra
turned her face toward him. “Oh, Carl! Have you got it?”
“
Yes.
It’s back there in the straw. Didn’t you notice the box I was
carrying? I tried it all morning in the drug-store cellar, and it
worked ever so well, makes fine big pictures.”
“
What
are they about?”
“
Oh,
hunting pictures in Germany, and Robinson Crusoe and funny pictures
about cannibals. I’m going to paint some slides for it on glass,
out of the Hans Andersen book.”Alexandra
seemed actually cheered. There is often a good deal of the child
left
in people who have had to grow up too soon. “Do bring it over,
Carl. I can hardly wait to see it, and I’m sure it will please
father. Are the pictures colored? Then I know he’ll like them. He
likes the calendars I get him in town. I wish I could get more. You
must leave me here, mustn’t you? It’s been nice to have
company.”Carl
stopped the horses and looked dubiously up at the black sky. “It’s
pretty dark. Of course the horses will take you home, but I think
I’d
better light your lantern, in case you should need it.”He
gave her the reins and climbed back into the wagon-box, where he
crouched down and made a tent of his overcoat. After a dozen trials
he succeeded in lighting the lantern, which he placed in front of
Alexandra, half covering it with a blanket so that the light would
not shine in her eyes. “Now, wait until I find my box. Yes, here it
is. Good-night, Alexandra. Try not to worry.” Carl sprang to the
ground and ran off across the fields toward the Linstrum homestead.
“Hoo, hoo-o-o-o!” he called back as he disappeared over a ridge
and dropped into a sand gully. The wind answered him like an echo,
“Hoo, hoo-o-o-o-o-o!” Alexandra drove off alone. The rattle of
her wagon was lost in the howling of the wind, but her lantern,
held
firmly between her feet, made a moving point of light along the
highway, going deeper and deeper into the dark country.