A Hazardous Wooing.

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 98, 28 April 1933, Page 13

A Hazardous Wooing.

Short Story.

(By BJORNSTJERNA BJORNSON.) There was not much peace to be had at Husaby's about the time when Aslaug grew up to womanhood; for all the most eligible fellows in the countryside were fighting and quarrelling about her night after niglit. The trouble was always worst on Saturday nights; but then old Knut Husaby never went to bed without his leather breeches on, and kept a stout birch staff beside him. "Seeing I've got a lass, I must look after her," he would say. Tore Nesset was only a cotter's son, and yet some said it was he who used to visit the farmer's daughter most. Old Knut didn't like this, and said it wasn't true, "for he had never seen him there." But people only smiled to themselves and said that if he had only made a proper search' of the attic instead. of bothering himself about the noisy crowd in the farmhouse and the yard, he would have found him all right. Spring came, and Aslaug was sent up to the mountain dairy hut with the cattle. And now, when the day lay hot and heavy over the valley and tlio cool mountain towered above the haze, while the cowbells tinkled, the dogs barked,' and Aslaug yodelled to the cattle and. blew her horn on the slopes, the boys would get heartache as they toiled and moiled in the fields below. And on the firet Saturday evening each tried to climb up the hillside faster than the~ other. But they came down still faster, for someone was standing behind the door of the hut, and he sent them rolling down again- in such a state that they had good cause to remember the words that came flying after them: "Just come again, and .you shall have more next time!" As far as they could make out, there was only one fellow in the parish who could own such a fist, and that must be Tore Nesset. And all the rich farmers' sons thought it was too bad that such a young puppy should cut them out.up at the mountain hut. Old Knut thought so, too, when lie got to hear of it; and he added that if there was nobody else who could tame him, he and his sons would have to see to it. True, Knut was getting on in years now, but although he was past sixty he still liked to take a turn at wrestling with his eldest son when they had nothing better to do.

There was only one pathway up to the Husaby's mountain dairy hut, and that went straight through the farmyard. On the next Saturday evening Tore was on his way up to the hut and was just stealing cautiously through the yard, tip-toeing as he passed the barn, when suddenly someone rose in his path. "What do you want with me?" said Tore, and gave him a blow that sent him sprawling. "You'll soon know," said someone else, giving him a blow from behind. It was the other brother. "And here comes number three," said old Knut, as he pounced on him. Tore gave a good account of himself in the tussle; he was as lithe as a withy, and dealt stinging blows. He hit out and dodged; when a blow fell, he was not there; and he was in on them when they least expected it. In the end they gave him a drubbing with something to spare; but afterwards old Knut used to say that he had seldom met a tougher fellow. They kept on till the blood flowed; then the old man said "Stop," and added, "If you can slip past old Husaby and his cubs next Saturday, the lass shall be yours.'' Tore dragged himself home as best he could, and when he got in, went straight to bed. The news of the fight at Husaby farm soon spread; but everyone asked, "What did he want there?" The only one who didn't ask this question was Aslaug. She had been waiting for him that Saturday evening, and when she heard what her father had said to him, she sat down and cried, and said to herself: "If they take Tore from me, there will be no more happiness for me as long as I live." All day Sunday Tore kept to his bed, and on Monday he was still too weak to get up. Tuesday came, and it was such a fine day. It had rained in the night, and the mountain was wet and green; the window.stood open and the fresh fragrance of the leaves came drifting" in; the faint tinkle of the cowbells could be heard up on the mountainside, and the voice of someone singing; if his mother had not been sitting in the room, he could have wept with impatience. Wednesday came, and still he lay in bed; but on Thursday he began wondering whether he couldn't get well by Saturday, and on Friday he was up. He remembered the old man's words, -"If .ypu ;slip, past old Husaby and his cubs next Saturday, the lass shall be youre," and kept looking across at the farm. "I shaVt get worse than a hid-1 [XD&" said tosdt __l.i

There was only one path up to the dairy hut, as we have said; but if a fellow were smart enough he could get up there without going the straight way.. For if he rowed out into the fjord and round the next rocky point, he could land there and climb up the mountain on that side; but it was so steep that even the goats found it hard to get a footing, and they're no cripples as a rule. The Saturday came, and Tore sat outdoors all day. The sun shone so that the bushes quivered with the heat; every now and again came the cry of a dairymaid calling the cattle up on the slopes. He was still sitting out in front of the door when evening came and a driving inist began creeping up the mountainside. He looked up at the hut, where all was still; he looked over towards Husaby farm—then he cautiously pushed his boat out and rowed round the point. Up at the hut Aslaug was sitting, her day's work finished. She was thinking how Tore would not be able to come that evening, but that plenty of others would come in his stead. Then she took the dog and went out without telling anyone where she was going. She sat Sdown on the grass at a spot where she could look out over the valley, but the mist was rising and obscured the view. Nor did she really want to look down there; everything reminded her of what had occurred. So she got up again, and without thinking where she was going, began walking towards the other side of the cliff-top; and there she sat down. How peaceful that vast view of the ifjord seemed! Then she felt she wanted to sing; she began a song with long, pensive notes in it, and the sounds drifted far out into the calmness of the evening. She liked the sound of it and began singing the next verse; but suddenly it seemed to her as if somebody else joined in tile song far below. "Goodness, what can it be?" thought Aslaug. -She went to the edge of the cliff, held "on to the stem of a leaning birch, and looked over. Down below there was nothing to be seen; the fjord lay calm and still; not even a bird streaked across ■ its smooth surface. Aslaug sat down and began singing again; this time the answer really came, and in the same tone, but nearer than the firet time. "There must be someone there, after all," thought Aslaug, who jumped up again, and leaned over the edge. Then she saw a boat moored at the bottom of the cliff; and it was so far off that it looked like a tiny shell. As her gaze wandered up the cliff-face she suddenly caught sight of a red cap, and, beneath it, a lad slowly working his way up the almost perpendicular rock. "Goodness, who can it be?" said Aslaug; she released her hold of the birch tree and ran back a good way from the edge. She dared not answer her own question, for she knew quite well who it was. She threw herself down on the ground and held tight to the grass with both hands, as if she were the one who must hold on for dear life. But the tufts came out in her hands, and she cried out and prayed God to be with him. Then it occurred to her that what Tore was doing was tempting Providence and that there was no help to be expected in such a case. "Be with him, O God, just this once," she prayed, and she hugged the dog as if it were Tore, and she were helping him to hold on. They rolled away over the grass, and it seemed to her as if the time would never come to an end.

Suddenly the dog broke away from lier. It barked over the brink, wagging its tail excitedly. "Bow-wow!" and it came racing back to Aslaug and jumped up at her; "Bow-wow!" and it ran back to the edge again . . . there came a red cap, and next thing she knew Tore was pressed close to her heart. It was several minutes before he could say a word, and what he said then had no sense in it. But when old Knut Husaby heard the news, he said something there was sense in, for he said: "That lad is worth having; the lass shall be his."