CHAPTER IV
SPRING: LETTING THE ANIMALS OUT TO PASTURE
One morning, a few weeks after the sad departure from Peerout Castle,Lisbeth Longfrock awoke early in the small sleeping room built underthe great staircase at Hoel. She opened her eyes wide at the moment ofwaking, and tried to gather her thoughts together. She was conscious ofa delightful, quivering expectancy, and felt that she had awakened tosomething great and new,--something that she had waited for and beenexceedingly glad over; but she could not at once remember just what itwas.
The little room, whose only furniture consisted of a bed, a chair, astove, and a small wooden shelf with a mirror over it, was filled withdaylight in spite of the early hour. The sun fell slanting down througha window set high up in the wall directly over Lisbeth's bed, and thewindowpanes were pictured in bright yellow squares on the floor nearthe tiny stove. The corner of one square spread itself against thestove, and Lisbeth traced it with her eyes as she lay in bed. At thetip of the corner glimmered something light-green and shiny. Was itfrom there that a fine, wonderful fragrance came floating toward her?She sniffed a little. Yes, indeed! now she remembered. The fragrancecame from the fresh birch twigs she had decorated the room withyesterday. Out of doors it was spring,--the sprouting, burstingspringtime. To-day the cattle were to be let out and the calves named.To-day she would begin work in earnest and be a responsible individual.In short, she would be the herd girl at Hoel Farm.
It was now a month since Lisbeth had come to Hoel Farm, but up to thistime she had been treated merely as company. She had walked about theplace, sauntered after Kjersti here and there in the house, ground thecoffee, and brought out from a bowl in the pantry the small cakes thatthey ate with their coffee every afternoon. Frequently, too, she hadhad pleasant talks with Kjersti.
As for helping with the animals,--the sheep and the goats had been letout, to be sure, but nevertheless they did not need her care becausethey were allowed, so early in the season, to run about everywhereexcept in the garden, and that Bearhunter stood guard over. In the cowhouse there was nothing for her to do, for a milkmaid and anunder-milkmaid did the work there. Of course the girl who tended theflocks ought really to be able to help in milking the cows; but it wasthought that Lisbeth had better wait a year before she tried to dothat,--her hands being rather too small as yet. Lisbeth had keptmeasuring her hands every now and then and pulling her fingers to makethem grow; and after a while she had asked the milkmaid if she did notthink they had grown large enough, but the milkmaid did not see thatthey were any larger. She could not have very good eyes!
Lisbeth had, of course, expected to take care of Crookhorn,--Kjerstiand she both thought she ought to do that; but it had proved to beimpossible. Crookhorn had become so freakish that sometimes they almostthought her out of her wits. In the building shared by the sheep andgoats she ranged back and forth from wall to wall, knocking against thesheep and the other goats so hard as she went that their ribs rattled.At last she had to be tied to one of the walls, and with the shortestrope possible at that. Nor would she allow herself to be milkedpeaceably in that building. The first time Lisbeth tried it, Crookhorn,with a toss of the head, gave a kick that sent Lisbeth and the pailrolling off in different directions. Afterward the milkmaid herselftook Crookhorn in hand at milking time; but even for her it was alwaysa feat of strength, and she had to have some one to help her by holdingthe goat's horns.
When Crookhorn was let out with the other goats, would she ramble withthem over the fields and meadows, seeking food? No, indeed! She wouldstation herself poutingly by the cow-house door and stand there thelivelong day,--"bellowing like a cow" the farm boy said; and then inthe evening, when the other goats came home plump and well fed, thereCrookhorn would stand as thin and hungry as a wolf.
Lisbeth thought that Crookhorn, if provided with a stall in the cowhouse, would act like a reasonable creature again. But neither Kjerstinor the milkmaid would consent to the removal; they thought a goatought not to be humored in such unreasonable fancies.
Thus it was that Lisbeth had not had much to do during her first monthat Hoel Farm. The only thing that Kjersti had required of her was tokeep her own little room under the hall staircase in nice order, andthat she had done. Every day she had made the bed herself, and everySaturday she had washed the floor and the shelf, and spread junipertwigs about. Last Saturday Kjersti had come out to take a look at it,and had said to her that she kept her room in better order than thegrown-up girls in the south chamber kept theirs; and Lisbeth knew thatthis was true, for she had noticed it herself.
LISBETH'S ROOM UNDER THE STAIRS]
But now everything was going to be different. Kjersti Hoel had come toLisbeth's room the night before and said that the cows were to be letout early in the morning, and that Lisbeth, like all the rest of theHoel Farm people, must be up early to help. Later in the day the calvesthat had been born in the cow house during the winter were to be letout for the first time, and Lisbeth would have to look after them forthat afternoon at any rate. Kjersti had said also that Lisbeth was tobe allowed to give the calves their names,--names that they would keepall their lives, even after they had grown to be full-sized cows.
The next day after the letting out of the animals Lisbeth was to take alunch bag and begin her spring work of going into the forest all day towatch the sheep and goats. It would not do to have them running aboutthe fields at home any longer, Kjersti said.
Suddenly Lisbeth recollected what it was that she had pondered over solong as she lay awake the evening before,--it was the names of thecalves. In spite of all her pondering she had got no farther than towonder whether the cow with the red sides and white head and the gentlebut bright-looking face should not be called Bliros. That idea,however, she had given up; it seemed to her that only one cow in theworld could be called Bliros. Then she had determined to think nolonger about Bliros or the names of the calves, and so had fallenasleep.
What if she had overslept herself now! She hoped not, with all herheart, for she had heard Kjersti Hoel say that she did not like girlsto lie abed late and dally in the morning. How mortifying it would befor her not to be on the spot as early as the others to-day, her veryfirst working day!
Wide-awake now, Lisbeth hopped quickly out of bed and popped into herlong frock. Then, having made her bed[6] with all haste, she opened thedoor, went out through the hall way, and stood on the outside steps.
[6] Lisbeth meant to be very neat and tidy, but she should have let her bed air longer before making it!
The sun had just risen above the highest spruce tops over the edge ofthe eastern hills, and the light was flooding the sides of the valleylike a waterfall. In the meadows and on the sloping fields the sunbeamsquivered in the dew. They sifted in gold, they glittered in green, theysilvered the clear brooks that babbled down the hills. From every bushcame a twittering and chirping and clapping of wings. From everything,everywhere, came a message of joy and activity and sprouting life.Mingled in one great morning effervescence, single sights and soundswere lost; only the call of the cuckoo, far up on the birch-clad slope,was heard above the other sounds, and from every shining window glanceda big, serene eye of reflected sun rays.
And just as there were thousands of different sounds, so were therealso thousands of different odors,--from the steaming earth, from thegrowing grass, from buds and blossoms; and above them all, like thecuckoo's call that was heard above the thousands of blended sounds,rose the fine, penetrating fragrance of newly sprouted birch trees.
Lisbeth stood still awhile, drawing deep breaths and letting the sweetair and the effervescence of spring stream in upon her. Then she lookedaround at the different farm buildings. Quiet brooded within them andevery door was shut. Of all the living creatures belonging to the farm,not one was to be seen except Bearhunter, who got up slowly from theflat stone where he had been lying, comfortably sunning himself, andcame over to her, looking up into her face and wagging his tail.
Truly, she believed she
was the first one up on the whole farm to-day.
Well, of course she would have to wait. So she sat herself down on thesteps.
Oh, no; it was just as she might have known it would be. Kjersti Hoelwas up. Lisbeth heard her come out of her own room into the kitchen,take a big stick, and knock three times on the ceiling to waken thegirls in the south chamber.
In a moment Lisbeth heard a thump! thump! as the girls hopped out ofbed, and then a clattering noise as they put on their shoes. SoonKjersti came out of the house. She was going over to the building wherethe men slept to waken them.
Catching sight of Lisbeth, she exclaimed: "No! this cannot be Lisbethalready up. What a wide-awake little girl! I think I shall have to makeyou head milkmaid."
At this Lisbeth became so shy that she could not raise her eyes to lookat Kjersti; but it must be acknowledged that when the head milkmaid andthe other girls came downstairs a certain small nose was tilted alittle higher than usual.
Soon there was life and motion over the whole farm. The activity wasvery different from that of ordinary days, for everything was done withextra haste, and all that was done seemed to have some connection withthe cow house. The doors at both ends of this building stood wide open,and every one seemed to have an errand which obliged him to passthrough. The spring air streaming in made the cows turn around in theirstalls, stretch their nostrils, and look out. When Kjersti herselfappeared on the scene, after the girls had begun milking, and talked tothe cows and patted the neck of the bell cow, the creatures at oncerealized what day it was. The bell cow threw up her head and bellowedtill the cow house echoed. That was a signal for all the other cows.They pulled at their chains, swung their tails, and one after another,along the whole row, joined in a manifold bellow of joyful expectancythat shook the entire cow house and seemed as if it would never end.Above the many-voiced chorus could be heard the bellowing of the bigbull, deep and even and good-natured, as if he did not need to exerthimself in the least in order to be heard.
Although everything went so much more speedily to-day than usual, thetime seemed long to Lisbeth Longfrock. When the farm people went intothe house to eat their early breakfast, she could not understand howthey could sit at the table so long. She finished her meal very quicklyand asked if she might not go and let out the smaller animals,--thesheep and the goats,--so that that would be done. Yes, Kjersti said shemight. In a trice, therefore, she had them out, and as usual theyscattered in every direction, leaping and capering,--all exceptCrookhorn, who seized her chance to slink into the cow house throughthe open door; but Lisbeth was so busy that she did not notice this.
All at once there came an instant's stillness, as if everythinglistened. Then from the farmhouse the tuneful clanging of a deep-tonedbell was heard, and in a moment this was answered by such a joyfullowing and bellowing, such a sniffing and rattling of chains, that itseemed as if a thunderstorm were passing over the farm; for when theanimals recognized the sound of that deep-toned bell, which they hadnot heard since they were shut up in the cow house the autumn before,they knew that the time for being let out into the open air was closeat hand.
A formal procession now issued from the farmhouse. Kjersti marched atthe front, carrying the big iron-bound cow collar to which thedeep-toned bell was fastened; next came the head milkmaid, followed bythe under-milkmaid; then the girls who worked in the farmhouse; andthen the two farm hands, with thick sticks, which they afterwards dealtout to the company, giving one to Lisbeth as well as to the rest. Lastof all came Bearhunter, who also wanted to have a part in what wasgoing on.
When the procession reached the cow house there was again a suddensilence. The cows, one and all, turned their heads toward the people asthey came in, and looked at them with large, expectant eyes.
The procession then divided into groups, and definite work was assignedto each person. The head milkmaid was to unfasten the cows; Lisbeth andthe under-milkmaid and the housemaids, each with her stout stick, wereto steer the cows out through the door; the farm hands were to stand inthe cow lane to meet the creatures and guide them into the right road(they were to be pastured up in the north meadow) and to separate thosewho fought with each other; and Kjersti and Bearhunter were to watcheverything from the gateway.
All was ready. The moment for the start had come.
Kjersti went into the stall of the cow who was to wear the bell. Thecow straightened herself up, lifted her head as high as she could, andthen stood stock-still. She knew very well that she was the principalcow of the herd, and that the first place when they went out and inthrough the cow-house door belonged to her; but she knew also that evenshe had to be on her best behavior when Kjersti, the mistress of thewhole farm, did her the honor of clasping around her neck the cowcollar with its bell,--emblem of dignity and power,--and of unfasteningthe chain that held her in the stall. Kjersti clasped on the bell andunloosed the chain, which fell rattling to the floor; and then the bellcow swung slowly and deliberately out of the stall, like a big, heavyship out of its dock, and wended her way with solemn dignity toward thedoor. She carried her head so high and so stiffly that you could notsee the least swaying of her horns, and her bell gave only a singledecided stroke at each step.
The next to be let out was the big bull. The head milkmaid unloosedhim, and he sailed out just as stiffly and heavily as the bell cow haddone, with horns so high that they nearly touched the cow-house roof,and so wide apart that they seemed to stretch across the wholepassageway. Lisbeth had never realized before how large the bull was.
And then, one by one, in regular turn, the rest of the cows marchedout. They were Brindle, Morlik (which means "like its mother"), Goldie,Speckle, Blackie, Pusher, Summer-Leaf, Darkey, Wee Bonny, Trot-About,Wreathie, and Moolley.[7] Wreathie was so named because the white markson her hide looked something like a wreath.
[7] Mulley (cow without horns).
Beyond the cow stalls, now empty, were the stalls of the heifers, whosenames no one quite remembered as yet, and of the half-grown bulls, whodid not have any names at all.
When it came to the unloosing of the heifers and young bulls, the scenegrew livelier and livelier. They stretched their necks and rubbedagainst their chains. They fell on their knees as soon as the unloopedchains slipped from their necks, and as they sprang up again you couldhear their legs creak,--so stiff were they from standing in the stallall winter. They ran plump against the side wall or up into the wrongpassageway. They dashed noisily against the door, two reaching it atthe same time and trying to rush through together but getting wedged bytheir fat sides; while those who had been set free after them cameclose on their heels, pushing, clashing their horns, butting andbellowing,--until suddenly, the blockade being broken, out rushed thewhole throng.
Directly in the wake of the heifers and young bulls, to Lisbeth'sextreme surprise, followed Crookhorn, who, kicking up her heels, made aswift dash out through the doorway.
Outside the cow house, too, all was life and stir. As the animals cameinto the lane, they lifted their heads, sniffed the air from themountain side, and became eager and excited. Stiff-legged old cows, aswell as young calves, kicked up their hind legs and made frolicsomeleaps this way and that. They rushed playfully or angrily at eachother, clashing their horns, and giving a short bellow if worsted inthe tussle; then they dashed off to assail other members of the crowd.Everything combined to form a hubbub of lowing and bellowing, hornclashing and fence creaking, whacking of sticks and shouting of people;while back and forth through all the confusion, with his horns highabove all the other horns, went the big bull, like a great heavysnowplow, clearing the way. Of the whole herd, only one cow stoodundisturbed amid the wild uproar, calmly waiting and looking about.That was the bell cow, whom, of course, none of the other cows dared todisturb.
At last the head milkmaid came to the front and gave a call. The bellcow threw up her head and with a loud, echoing bellow started to followher. Next came Brindle, still sniffing with anger after her manyencounters. She had got the best
of all who were worth getting the bestof, and if she could not be the bell cow, she would, at any rate, standnext to her.
Directly after Brindle came Crookhorn, with a self-important air andmaking herself as tall as possible. But Brindle was in no mood forseeing the funny side of things to-day, so she lunged out with one ofher long hind legs and gave Crookhorn a blow on the head that made theprideful goat see stars. But Crookhorn merely tossed her head and wenton as if nothing had happened. Such actions, she thought, were probablycustomary among cows.
The head milkmaid kept on calling, and the cows, one after another,hearing her voice, started toward her. Soon the whole noisy herd, ledby the deep-toned bell and urged by shouts and flourishing of sticks,was going in full swing toward the north meadow.
Up in the meadow, which they reached after a while, the ground waslevel and there was plenty of room, so that the danger of collisionsand other accidents was lessened. The young creatures danced around inwild play, and those of the cows who had not settled the question ofmastery fought now a battle that was to be decisive for the wholesummer. Soon, however, everything became quiet again, and in a coupleof hours all of the animals, even the worst combatants, were grazingplacidly side by side.
After this the farm people began to go home,--all except the headmilkmaid and Lisbeth, who were to remain a while longer so as to be onhand in case anything happened. And something did happen. Brindle,whose quiet behavior had been only temporary, soon began to roveuneasily back and forth, sniffing hard. _She_ was really the one whoought to be wearing the bell, she sniffed to herself; and thensuddenly, with a violent rush, she hurled herself at the bell cow. Sucha fight as there was then! The turf flew in all directions. Soon asharp crack was heard, and a short, wild bellow, and one of Brindle'shorns hung dangling.
Brindle shook her head till the blood splashed; then, giving anotherbellow, she turned and ran the shortest way home as fast as her legscould carry her, never stopping until she had reached the cow-housedoor. There she gave vent to a terrible bellowing, as if she wanted tobring all the farm buildings down over the people's ears.
* * * * *
After dinner the calves were let out. Lisbeth had finally named thethree cow calves Yellow Speckle, Redsides, and Young Moolley, but asyet she had found no name to suit her for the bull calf. Lisbeth sawplainly that Kjersti wondered why she had not called any of the calvesafter Bliros (Gentle Cow), but she gave no sign of having noticedKjersti's thought.
This is the way the calves were induced to leave their pen and to crossthe cow-house floor. To begin with, a good-sized pail with a littlemilk in it was held out to each calf. In their eagerness to get themilk the calves thrust their heads clear into the pails; and when thepersons holding these began to run, the calves ran too, with the pailsover their heads like hats. Outside the cow-house door the pails weresnatched off and there stood the calves, who had never before beenbeyond their pen, in the very midst of the great, wonderful new world.
The startled creatures gave an amazed look and then began to back, justas if they felt themselves suddenly standing at the head of a steepstairway; but soon they ventured to put one foot carefully forward,then another, and another. It was slow work, one step at a time; but atlength they found that there was firm ground in this new region. Theyconcluded that the world was only a larger calf pen, after all; but itwas a wonderfully light calf pen, and its walls were certainly a longway off. Swish! up went their tails into the air and away theyscampered like the wildest of forest animals.
Then began a great race in the big field,--from fence to fence, thisway and that, crosswise, and round and round. Every time the calvesjumped over a hillock Kjersti and Lisbeth saw their tails standstraight up against the sky like tillers. Lisbeth thought she had neverseen anything so funny. But they could not keep together long. Theysoon ran off in various directions, and in the evening Lisbeth had togo to the farthest corners of the field with a pail and coax them homeone by one; for of course they did not have sense enough to know whento go home,--they who were out in the world for the first time!
* * * * *
Lisbeth was lying again in her little room. It was the evening of herfirst working day. She had said her simple evening prayer, as usual,and then stretched herself out on the bed, feeling how good it was torest, for her body was tired through and through.
What a day it had been! A long day, too, she knew; nevertheless, shecould not imagine where it had gone. She felt that she must think overall that had happened. But drowsiness came stealing upon her and threwthe scenes of the day into confusion. She saw a pair of big horns thatplowed like a snow plow through a swarming crowd, and then she sawBrindle standing in her stall with her head on one side and a bigbandage over one of her horns, looking exactly like an old peasantwoman with a kerchief tied around her head for a headache; and then shethought she saw, written in the air, a couplet that she had once heard:
Rearing its tail against the sky, Danced the calf on the hilltop high.
And then Lisbeth Longfrock fell asleep.
* * * * *
The next day, with the lunch bag upon her back, Lisbeth Longfrock setout for a forest that lay not far off, taking the sheep and goats withher. She had not succeeded in getting Crookhorn to go along, however.The self-willed goat had taken the shortest cut up to the north meadow,where the cows were again pastured.
Lisbeth's second working day, like her first, seemed a very long one,for the forest was wonderfully lonesome and still. The little girl hadtime to think of many, many things,--of her mother and Jacob andPeerout Castle; and it must be acknowledged that she cried a wee bit,too.