Heimatlos Part 5

CHAPTER X

A LITTLE LIGHT

Stineli became more and more depressed as the days pa.s.sed. The children complained, "Stineli won't tell us any more stories and she won't laugh with us any more."

One day the mother spoke to the father about the change in Stineli, but all that he said was: "It is because she is growing so rapidly.

Let her rest a little and give her plenty of goat's milk to drink."

After about three weeks had pa.s.sed in this way, the grandmother went with Stineli to her room one evening and said, "I can understand, dear, how hard you find it to forget about Rico, but I am afraid that you are not resigning yourself to the inevitable as it should be your duty to do for the sake of the dear ones about you."

"But, grandmother," sobbed Stineli, "you don't know how it hurts me to think that I gave Rico the notion of going to the lake; and now that he has been killed, I am to blame for it."

A great load seemed to fall from the grandmother as she heard these words. She had given Rico up for lost, for she could not otherwise account for his complete disappearance. A strong hope of his safety now came to her.

"Tell me, child," she said, "all that you know about his going to the lake."

Stineli told of Rico's longing to see the pretty lake he remembered, and how she had advised him to make the trip. "I am sure," she said, "that Rico started for the lake, but father says that he would get killed anyway."

"We have a right to hope for something better," said the grandmother.

"Have you forgotten the song we sang the last night that Rico was with us?

'Whatever in His care is laid Shall have a happy end.'

Of course it was wrong of you to advise Rico without consulting your parents, but you did it thoughtlessly and meant no harm, so you may dare to hope that there will be a happy ending to Rico's going to the lake. I feel satisfied now that the child is alive and that he will be taken care of."

From that time on Stineli began to be her old self. To be sure, she missed her friend, but she cherished a secret hope that he would return to her. Day by day she looked up the road to see if he might not possibly be coming down the Maloja Pa.s.s, but the seasons came and went and nothing was heard from the missing boy.

CHAPTER XI

A LONG JOURNEY

When Rico was so harshly dismissed by his aunt that Sunday evening, he went up to his room and took a chair in the darkness. His intention was to stay there only until his aunt had gone to bed. It seemed a simple undertaking to him to find his lake, now that Stineli had told him her plan. He dreaded the aunt's interference, although he knew that she would be glad to have him gone. His first thought upon reaching his room was, "I will go to-night, as soon as she has gone to bed."

A feeling of relief swept over Rico as he contemplated the future when he should be able to live for days without seeing the aunt. He thought of the beautiful flowers he would gather to bring back to Stineli, for there was not the least doubt in his mind about his coming back to her. Then, as he walked in fancy on the sunny sh.o.r.e of the lake, and thought of its beautiful setting, he fell asleep.

His uncomfortable position awakened him at last. The violin still lay in his lap, and as he felt it his plan came to his mind. The room was still as dark as when he had entered in the early evening. He was glad that he was wearing his best suit. He put on his hat and, going softly down the stairs, he quietly pushed back the bolt and let himself out into the brisk morning air.

Over the hills he could see the first glimmer of morning. Soon he heard the c.o.c.ks announcing the break of day, and he increased his pace so that he might get beyond the town before it was light enough for him to be recognized. He very much enjoyed the walk, combined with the feeling of freedom, as soon as he got to the open country. It was familiar to him, for he and the father had many times walked there together. He had no idea of the distance to the top of the Maloja, but after he had walked steadily for two hours, it began to seem like a long way.

Bright daylight came at last, and after another hour of brisk walking he reached the summit of the mountain, where he and the father had so often stood looking at the scenery about them. A sunny morning was spread over the hills. The evergreen tops s.h.i.+mmered in the distance as if sprinkled with gold. Rico sat down by the roadside, a very tired and hungry boy, and well he might be, for he had eaten nothing since Sunday noon. Perhaps, he thought, he should find it much easier now that his way would be going downhill, and possibly it would not be much farther to the lake.

As Rico sat by the roadside, lost in thought, the large stagecoach came rumbling by. Rico had often seen it and envied the coachman on that high seat where he could look about him so well and have control of those fine large horses. The coach halted in the driveway leading to the inn at the summit. Rico came closer and watched the driver as he came out of the inn; he had remained but a moment, and he was now carrying a huge slice of black bread and a large piece of cheese. He cut these into strips and began to eat them, occasionally giving a bite to the horses. While they were contentedly eating, the driver noticed Rico's interested attention.

"Well, little musician," he said, "will you eat with us? Come nearer and I will give you some."

Rico had not realized how hungry he was until he saw the bread and cheese, but he quickly stepped forward at the invitation. The coachman cut such a large piece of bread and put such a thick slice of cheese on it that Rico had to find a place to lay his violin in order to have both hands free to hold his liberal portion. It pleased the man to see the way in which Rico attacked his breakfast, and he took the occasion to ask him a few questions.

"You are a very young musician. Can you play anything?"

"Yes, two new songs, and a few others."

"Is that so! And where do you expect your little legs to take you?"

"To Peschiera on Lake Garda," was Rico's prompt reply.

The coachman laughed so heartily at this that Rico was puzzled.

"That is great!" said he. "Don't you know that a little one like you could wear out the soles of his shoes, and his feet too, before he would see a drop of water from Lake Garda? Who sends you down there?"

"I go of my own accord," said Rico.

"Bless me, did you ever see such a child! Where is your home?"

"I don't know; maybe it is at Lake Garda," said Rico, earnestly.

The coachman looked thoughtfully at the boy. He did not look like a runaway, neither did he have the appearance of neglect. His black curly hair hanging over his Sunday frock was very pretty and childlike. His attractive appearance and honest looks gained the man's sympathy.

"You carry your pa.s.sport in your face, my lad," he said. "It is all right, even if you don't know where your home is. What will you give me if I put you on the high seat beside me and take you a long way on your journey?"

Rico stared in amazement. To think of sitting on that high seat and riding down the valley! How he longed for the experience, but what had he to pay? "I haven't anything to give but my violin, and I couldn't part with that," he said at last.

"Well," said the coachman, laughing, "I shouldn't know what to do with that if I had it, so you may keep it. Come, we will get on now, and you can play for me anyway."

Rico scarcely dared believe that the man meant what he said, but it was true, and he was hoisted up to the seat. The pa.s.sengers were inside the coach, with the windows down, as the morning was cool. The driver took up the reins and they started down the hill that Rico had wanted to pa.s.s over for so long a time. In what a remarkable way was his desire fulfilled! He felt as if he were sailing between heaven and earth, and wondered how it had all come about.

"Tell me, little traveler," began the coachman, "where is your father?"

"He is dead," answered Rico.

"Is that so! Where is your mother?"

"She is dead, too," came the answer.

"That is too bad! How about grandfather and grandmother?"

"They are dead."

"Well, well!" exclaimed the man. "But you must have brother or sister?"

"They are dead," was again Rico's sad reply.

"What was your father's name?"