3: THE GREEDY VILLAGER
Franz sank his razor-sharp ax in the raw stump of a new-cut birch andused both hands to close his jacket against an icy wind that whistleddown from the heights. He looked up at the cloud-stabbing peak of LittleSister and smiled. Yesterday, the snow line had been exactly even with apile of tumbled boulders that, according to some of the more imaginativeresidents of Dornblatt, resembled an old man with a pipe in his mouth.Today, it was a full fifty yards farther down the mountain.
Caesar, who never cared how cold it was, sat on his haunches and,disdaining even to curl his tail around his paws, faced the windwithout blinking. Franz ruffled the big dog's ears with an affectionatehand and Caesar beamed his delight. Franz spoke to him.
"Winter soon, Caesar, and it is by far the very finest time of all theyear. Let the children and old people enjoy their spring and summer.Winter in the Alps is for the strong who can face it, and for them it iswonderful indeed."
Caesar offered a canine grin, wagged his tail and flattened his ears, asthough he understood every word, and Franz was by no means certain thathe did not. The dog understood almost everything else.
Franz wrenched his ax from the birch stump, and, dangling it from onehand so that the blade pointed away from his foot, he went on. As hisfather had said, nobody in Dornblatt could hope to live by cutting woodand that alone. Every household must have a supply, for wood was theonly fuel, but since every able-bodied householder cut his own, itnaturally followed that they cared to buy none.
Franz was still unable to remember when he had enjoyed himself morecompletely. Other men of Dornblatt regarded the annual wood cutting asan irksome chore, and life in the forest the loneliest existenceimaginable. As long as he could be in the forest, it never occurred toFranz that he was alone.
There was always Caesar, the finest of companions. There were the mice,the hares, the foxes, the various birds, and only yesterday Franz hadseen thirty-one chamois on their way from the heights, that would soonbe blanketed beneath thirty to forty feet of snow, to seek winterpasturage in the lowlands. There had been two magnificent bucks, plus ahalf a dozen smaller ones, but Franz had not mentioned the herd becausethere were a number of eager chamois hunters in Dornblatt. Should theylearn of the chamois and succeed in overtaking them, they might wellslaughter the entire herd. Chamois, Franz thought, were better alivethan dead--and it was not as though there was a lack of food inDornblatt. It had been a good year.
As he walked on, Franz pondered his expulsion from Professor Luttman'sschool. The sting was gone, much of the shame had faded, and there wereno regrets whatever. Franz knew now that he simply did not belong inschool, for his was not the world of books. If, on occasion, he met aformer classmate, and the other asked him how he was getting on, hemerely smiled and said well enough.
Franz remained more than a little troubled about Professor Luttman,though. He was a good and kind man who seldom had any thoughts that didnot concern helping his pupils. Franz felt that somehow he had failedProfessor Luttman.
The heavy ax hung almost lightly from his hand, as though somehow it wasa part of his arm. Franz had always regarded his ax as a beautiful andwonderful tool. He could strike any tree exactly where he wished, fellit exactly where he wanted it to fall and leave a smoother stump thanErich Erlich, who owned the finest saw in Dornblatt.
Always choosing one that was rotten, deformed, or that had beenpartially uprooted by some fierce wind and was sure to topple anyhow,Franz had spent his time felling trees. Then he had trimmed theirbranches. With a great bundle of faggots on his own back and a greaterone on Caesar's, he had hauled them to his father's house. Finally, hehad cut the trunks into suitable lengths, and such portions as he wasunable to carry, he and Caesar had dragged in.
His father had finally ordered him to stop. Wood was piled about theHalle house in every place where it was usually stored and many where itwas not. There was enough to last the family through this winter andmost of next. If any more were brought in, the Halles would have to moveout.
Franz had continued to cut wood for those who were either unable togather their own or who, at the best, would find wood cuttingdifficult. There was Grandpa Eissman, once a noted mountaineer, who hadconquered many peaks but lost his battle with time. Old and stooped,able to walk only with the aid of his cane, Grandpa Eissman's housewould be cold indeed this winter if he and he alone must gather wood toheat it. Then there was Jean Greb, who'd lost his right hand in anaccident on Little Sister. There was also--
Franz knew a rising worry as he made his way toward a tree he had markedfor cutting. There were not so many unable to gather their own wood thathe could keep busy throughout the winter, and what then? Wood cuttingwas the only duty with which his father would trust him.
He thought suddenly and wistfully of the Hospice of St. Bernard. Morethan eight thousand feet up in the mountains, the Hospice must have beensnowbound long since. There were few days throughout the entire yearwhen snow did not fall there and, when it was deep enough, the monks and_maronniers_--Father Paul's strange term for lay workers--must get abouton skis. Franz felt confident of his ability to keep up with them, forhe had learned to ski almost as soon as he'd learned to walk. Surely theHospice must be one of the world's finest places, but Franz seemed nonearer to going there than he had been last summer.
Father Paul had talked with him about it once more, and Franz hadbroached a very troublesome problem. If he were accepted as a_maronnier_, might Caesar go with him?
He would see, Father Paul promised, and he had gone to see. He returnedwith no positive answer and Franz dared not press the issue. Surely thegreat Prior of St. Bernard Hospice had problems far more important thanwhether to accept so insignificant a person as Franz Halle as a layworker.
Franz reached the tree he had already selected, felled it with cleanstrokes of his ax and trimmed the branches. Cutting them into suitablelengths, he shouldered a bundle, tied another bundle on Caesar's strongback and took them to Jean Greb's house. Jean greeted him pleasantly. Hewas a youngish man with wavy blond hair and clear blue eyes.
"It is very kind of you to provide me with wood, Franz, when I find itso very difficult to provide my own."
"It is my privilege," Franz said. "If I did not go out to cut wood, Iwould have to languish in idleness."
Jean, who appeared to have some troublesome thought on his mind, seemednot to have heard.
"Will you come in and have some bread and cheese?" he invited.
Franz smiled. "Gladly. Wood cutting works up an appetite."
Franz dropped his own burden of wood, then relieved Caesar of his load.The big mastiff settled himself to wait until his master saw fit torejoin him. Franz greeted Jean's pretty young wife and his threetousle-topped children and seated himself opposite Jean at the familytable. Jean's wife placed bread, milk and cheese before them.
Franz waited for his host to begin the meal and became puzzled when Jeanmerely stared at the far wall. Something was indeed troubling him.Presently he explained.
"I once thought Dornblatt the finest place on earth!" he exclaimedbitterly. "But there is a serpent among us!"
The puzzled Franz said, "I do not understand you."
"Emil Gottschalk!" Jean burst out. "The Widow Geiser is heavily indebtedto him and now he says that, if she does not pay the debt in full, andwithin ten days, he will take her farm and all else that is hers!"
"He cannot do such a thing!" the astounded Franz cried.
"Aye, but he can," Jean said. "Which is more, he will and there isnothing any of us may do except offer asylum to the widow and her sons!"
A short time later, Franz walked gloomily homeward, his thoughts filledwith the pleasant little farm and the attractive young woman who wasfighting so valiantly to keep her home. If there was anything anyonecould do, somebody would have done it. Professor Luttman was a veryclever man. He would not let Emil Gottschalk take the Widow Geiser'sfarm if there was a way to forestall him.
* * *
* *
A week later, the snow came to Dornblatt. It whirled down so thicklythat it was impossible to see more than a few yards in any direction,and it left fluffy drifts behind it. Eighteen hours later, there wasanother snow and the people of Dornblatt took to their skis.
The snowfall was followed by two days of fair weather, then the firstgreat storm of the winter came. It was so fierce that even the men ofDornblatt would not venture forth until it subsided.
Franz was at the evening meal with his family when he heard Caesar'schallenging roar. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. A moment laterHermann Gottschalk, Emil's son and Franz's former classmate, stumbledinto the room.
"Father!" he gasped. "He is lost in the storm!"