Heimatlos Part 4

and on through every one of the stanzas. Stineli was br.i.m.m.i.n.g over with fun.

"Come," she said, "let's make some more rhymes. How will this do?

"Oh, climb, little lambs, To the beautiful green, Where the winds are all hushed And the clouds are unseen."

This made them laugh, and they sang the verses two or three times.

"More, Stineli!" cried Rico, encouragingly, and Stineli went on:

"Little lambs, little lambs, Under heavenly blue, 'Mong numberless flowers Of exquisite hue.

"There's a boy who is sad, Here's a girl who is gay; But all lakes are alike Made of water, they say."

They laughed again and sang their verses over several times. "I wish we had some more," said Rico; so Stineli added two more stanzas:

"Little lambs, little lambs, So playful yet shy; Gay and happy are they, Though they know not just why.

"Now the boy and the girl At the lake are so glad; If we think not at all, Can we ever be sad?"

Then they began from the beginning and sang all the verses over and over again, and the more they sang them the better they liked their song. They tried to sing other songs during the afternoon, but every little while they would go back to what Rico called "Stineli's song,"

but what she called "our own song."

Once while they were singing, Stineli stopped abruptly and clapped her hands for joy. "I have just thought of a way to get to your pretty lake without money," she said exultantly.

Rico looked inquiringly at his companion.

"Don't you see?" she added hastily. "Now that you have a violin and know a song, it is very simple. You can stop at the door of the inns to play and sing; then the people will give you something to eat and let you sleep there, for they will know that you are not a beggar. You can keep on going until you get there, and you can come back in the same way."

They were still discussing the plan when they noticed that it was growing dark. They had not heard the vesper bell. Running down the hill, they found the grandmother out looking for them.

They ran joyfully to her, taking it for granted that she knew they would have come earlier had they been aware of the time. "Oh, grandmother!" exclaimed Stineli; "you will be astonished to find how well Rico can play. We have a song all our own that we want to sing to you."

The grandmother smiled. It was a pleasure to her to see the children together. "I can see that you have enjoyed the afternoon," she said when the song was ended. "I wonder, Rico," she continued, "if you can play my favorite tune, 'With heart and voice to Thee I sing.' We will all sing if you can play for us."

The grandmother sang softly the first verses of the hymn and Rico took it up readily, for it proved to be familiar. Then the three joined in the singing, the grandmother speaking each verse before they began:

"With heart and voice to Thee I sing, Lord of my life's delight!

O'er all the earth let love take wing To make dark places bright!

"I know that Thou the well of grace And everlasting art; Thou, Lord, to whom we all can trace The pure and true of heart.

"Why then unhappy should we live And sorrow day and night?

Oh, let us take our cares and give To Him who has the might.

"He never will refuse His aid If you a prayer will send; Whatever in His care is laid Shall have a happy end.

"Then let the blessing onward go, And cause it not to stay, That you may rest in peace below And happy be alway."

"There, that was a real benediction," said the grandmother. "You may go to rest in peace, children."

"And I believe I like the violin just as well as Rico does," said Stineli. "Aren't you glad he can play so well? And it's so nice here, wouldn't you like to have him play some more?"

"I am very glad, dear," said the grandmother, "but we will not play or sing any more to-night. We'll let Rico go now, and let us all keep in our hearts the thought of the last song. Remember the Father will care for his own. Good night."

CHAPTER IX

A PUZZLING OCCURRENCE

That evening Rico was later than usual in returning to the house, for the grandmother's singing lesson had taken some time. The aunt met him at the door.

"So this is the way you have begun!" she said sharply. "Your supper has been waiting for you long enough, so you may go to bed without it.

I am sure it will not be my fault if you become a tramp. Any drudgery would be better than taking care of a boy like you."

Usually Rico made no response to her faultfinding. To-night he met her angry look with an expression of determination that she had never seen in his face before.

"Very well," he replied quietly, "I will take myself out of your way."

He said nothing more, and as he went up to his dark bedroom he heard his aunt bolt the door.

The following evening, when the neighboring household had gathered about the table for supper, the aunt surprised them by coming to the door to inquire for Rico. She had not seen him that day.

"Don't worry," said Stineli's father, cheerfully; "he'll come when he's hungry."

As soon as the aunt saw that the boy had not taken refuge at the neighbor's, she went on to explain that in the early morning she had found the door unbolted. At first she had supposed that her trouble with Rico had made her forget to fasten it, but when she saw that he was not in his room and that his bed had not been slept in, she concluded that he had run away.

"If that is the case, something has surely happened to him," said the father. "He may have fallen into a creva.s.se on the mountain. A boy climbing about in the dark might easily break his neck. You were wrong not to speak of it sooner, for how is any one to find him, now that the daylight is gone?"

"Of course everybody will blame _me_ for it," the aunt retorted. "That is the way when a person is uncomplaining. No one will believe" (and here she told the truth) "what a stubborn, malicious, deceitful child he has been, nor how he has made my life miserable all through these long, long years. He will never be anything but an idle tramp."

The grandmother could bear no more in silence. She rose from the table, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with indignation.

"Stop, neighbor, for pity's sake!" she protested. "I know Rico very well. Ever since the father brought him here I have seen him almost constantly. Instead of saying harsh things about the child remember what danger he may be in this very minute. Don't you suppose that he may also have some reason to complain?"

The aunt had been thinking all day of Rico's words, "I will take myself out of your way," and trying to justify her own position. Now the grandmother's rebuke made her ashamed. "I will go back," she said, as she stepped out into the dark field. "Rico may have come home while I have been standing here." In her heart she knew that she would be glad to find this true, but the little house was empty and still.

Early the next morning the neighbors set forth to search carefully in the ravines and along the approaches to the glacier. When Stineli's father noticed that she had followed the others he said, "That is right, Stineli; you can get into places where bigger folk could not go."

"But, father," said Stineli, "if Rico went up the road he couldn't have fallen into any such place, could he?"

"Of course he could!" said the father. "He was such a dreamer that it would have been easy enough for him to lose his way. He probably paid no attention to where he was going, and wandered off toward the mountains."

A great fear entered Stineli's heart when she heard this. For days she could scarcely eat or sleep and she went listlessly about her work as if she did not know what she was doing.

No one could be found who had seen Rico since the night he left home.

As time went on he was given up for dead. The neighbors tried to console one another by saying: "He is better off as it is. The child had no one to look after him properly."