The lilies bloom with morning’s breath,
Yet eventide beholds their death
So Man must also meet his doom,
A flower, a mere withering bloom. .
When the song to the Creator’s glory had rung out to an end, the immigrants again loaded their burdens on their backs and resumed their walk with increased confidence. And over their resting place with its downtrodden grass stillness and silence again reigned, disturbed only by a faint whispering in the thick foliage of the oak.
— 3—
They knew how quickly dusk could fall in this country, and a good while before sunset they began to look for a place to camp. They chose a pine grove where the ground was covered with thick moss. They collected fallen branches in a great pile, and so dry was this excellent fuel that the very first match ignited it. Karl Oskar, Danjel, and Jonas Petter each had a box of matches brought from Sweden, which they used sparingly, each box being used in turn for fairness. The women cooked their evening meal in Fina-Kajsa’s limping iron pot; they fetched water from a running brook and to the water they added various leftovers to make a stew: Kristina donated a piece of pork, a few bread heels, and a pinch of salt, Ulrika scraped together a few spoonfuls of flour from the bottom of Danjel’s food basket, and Jonas Petter contributed a dozen large potatoes, which he had got from one of the cooks on the Red Wing in exchange for some snuff.
This stew was eaten by all in the company with such great appetite that none noticed how it tasted. Then Kristina offered as dessert one of the last things she had left in her Swedish food basket: a small jar of honey, which they spread on their bread. Each of the grownups got a small slice, each child a large slice.
After supper they gathered more faggots for the fire, which they had to keep burning, less for the sake of warmth than to keep off the swarms of mosquitoes. Nothing except smoke seemed to drive them away. Jonas Petter expressed the opinion that the North American mosquitoes were far more dangerous than the Indians, whom they hadn’t seen a sign of today; no heathens or cannibals could be so thirsty for Christian blood as were these bloodsucking insects, flying about everywhere with stingers sharp as needles. All complained about this new plague, and Fina-Kajsa most of alclass="underline" she had been able to escape the scurvy and the tempests at sea, the fire in the steam wagon, the cholera on the steamboat — was she now to be eaten by these hellish gnats before she reached her son and had a chance to see his beautiful home? No, God wouldn’t allow this to come to pass. He ought to give her credit for the thousands of miles she had walked in her life to hear His word every Sunday. If God had any sense of justice He undoubtedly had written down in His book the many miles she had walked to church.
They gathered moss to sleep on and covered themselves with warm clothing and a few blankets. The children went to sleep the minute they lay down. All were tired from the day’s walk and their heavy burdens; they would sleep soundly in this camp during the night. But they didn’t forget that evil people and dangerous beasts might be in their neighborhood. The four men each in turn kept a two-hour watch; they must tend the fire, guard the sleepers, and rouse them in case of danger.
Robert was too young to keep watch, but he couldn’t go to sleep. He lay under a pine tree with his head toward the trunk. He had gathered enough moss to make a soft bed, but he felt as though his body were broken to pieces. Every muscle ached. And the forest had so many sounds to keep him awake. The leaves rustled, bushes and grass stirred, he wondered what kind of reptiles might lurk in the thickets. Buzzing insects swarmed in the air, the mosquitoes hovered over him with their eternal plaintive humming. There were sounds everywhere — hissing, whizzing, chirping. But the most persistent sound of all came from some small animal in the grass, it screeched and squeaked like an ungreased wagon wheel. It reminded him of a cricket, but it was louder and more intense, and it hurt his ears. He looked for the animal but could not find it; how was it possible that an animal could be so small and yet make such an infernal noise?
From his Description of the United States of North America Robert remembered all the wild beasts of the American forests; all of them might now lurk quite close to him in the dark, waiting their moment: the bear and the wolf to bite his throat, the rattlesnake to wreathe its body around him, the crocodile. . But Captain Berger had said there were no crocodiles in the northern part of the country. Wild Indians, however, were here in the forest, even though they hadn’t yet encountered them, and Indians could move without the slightest sound: before he knew it, without the least warning, he might lie here with his scalp cut off, wounded and bleeding to death. An Indian could cut off a scalp as easily as a white, Christian person could cut a slice of bread.
As herdboy at home Robert had never been afraid, but here he lay an his bed of moss and scared himself until he felt clammy with perspiration. Arvid slept only a few feet away from him, snoring loudly; he did not hear any sounds, not even the ones he made himself. And Robert could see Karl Oskar, who had taken the first watch — he moved like a big shadow near the campfire, now and then poking the embers with a branch, making the sparks fly into the air until they died high up among the treetops. His brother was not afraid: Karl Oskar and the others didn’t know enough to be afraid, they didn’t realize how dangerous it was to lie here and sleep. Had they possessed all the knowledge Robert had concerning lurking dangers during the night in Minnesota Territorial forests — if they only knew what he knew about the unbelievably sharp knives the Indians carried, and with what complete silence they could sneak up — then they wouldn’t enjoy a moment’s sleep.
Each time Robert was about ready to go to sleep he was disturbed by the screeching noise like an ungreased wheel from the small animal in the grass. And his injured ear began to hum and throb as it often did when he lay still. What kind of a sound could it be in his ear, never ceasing? Sometimes he wondered if some buzzing insect hadn’t managed to get in there. And as this noise had continued he had grown to hear less and less with his left ear. For two years now the sound had pursued him; it had followed him from the Old World to the new one. Perhaps it would stay with him and annoy him for the rest of his life, perhaps he would suffer from it until he died, and by then there would be small joy in losing it. And all because of that hard box on the ear which his master, Aron of Nybacken, had given him when he served as hired hand in Sweden; all this a hired hand suffered undeservedly because of the master. He had secretly shed many tears at the memory: How had God allowed this injustice to befall him?
Now he lay listening to his ear until the noise sounded like a warning: Don’t go to sleep! You may never awaken again! Or you may wake up with a knife cutting through your scalp! You will cry out and feel with your fingers and find warm, dripping blood. . Better not go to sleep! Listen to what your ear says!
But Robert slept at last, and slept soundly, awakening only when Karl Oskar shook him by the shoulders: It was full daylight, they must resume their walk while it still was cool — they would rest again later in the day when the sun was high.
The pot was on the fire again, the food baskets open. Blinking, still with sleep in their eyes, the immigrants sat down to their morning meal and scratched their mosquito bites. The men keeping watch had not once had to warn the sleepers. Several times during the night Karl Oskar had heard a howl in the distance — it might have been wolves but it could also have come from human throats, for it had sounded almost like singing, and he didn’t think wolves could sing. During Jonas Petter’s watch a sly, hairy animal had sneaked to the food basket and attempted to scratch it open. It looked like a young fox, it had a sharp nose, a long bushy tail, and was yellow-gray in color. He had shooed away the creature with a stake and hung the basket in a tree, to be on the safe side. But the beast had scared the devil out of Jonas Petter later — it had come back and climbed the tree to get to the food basket! He had had to throw a fire brand at the animal before he could get rid of it. He hoped he had burned the beast good and well — in fact, he was sure he had — he had smelled the singed hair for quite a while afterward.