The German Pioneers Part 22

"Now," said Lambert, laughing, "our youngest is already half-a-year old, and my wife was unwilling longer to stay away from the children; and besides, this joyous day is also one of sorrowful thoughts to my family."

"I know, I know," said the old man. "Your brother--we heard of it in New York. What do you want, man? Your brave deed is in the mouth of the people. The ballad singers sing it on the streets:"

"A story, a story, Unto you I will tell, Concerning a brave hero--"

"I should say, two brave heroes. But the people like to keep to one.

You must tell me all this circ.u.mstantially when I come to your house to-morrow."

"This I will cheerfully do," replied Lambert, "and so I will to-day take my leave of you. The sun is already low, and I would like to be home in good time."

Lambert took the old man to the giver of the feast, who sent his hearty compliments to his wife, and promised to come with the guest to-morrow, to have farther consultation, and to visit his daughter-in-law on the way, who had already fourteen days ago presented him with a grandson.

Richard, after Aunt Ursul's death, had bought the property from Lambert, and was now his nearest neighbor. Richard came up and proposed to accompany Lambert. Fritz and August Volz would probably also have done this, but their wives did not yet want to leave the festival, which was now at its highest point. And then the women had taken it into their heads that this was the day on which their brother Adam must lose his long-maintained freedom and lay it down at the feet of Margaret Bierman, Anton Bierman's sister. Adam came up. His eyes were red. He no longer stood quite firm on his long legs. He put his arms around Lambert, and a.s.sured him with hot tears that a man has but one heart to give once for all, but that if it was necessary for Lambert's comfort--a necessity that he fully understood--to follow Jacob Ehrlich's example, given a short time before, he would marry a Bierman even if a man has but one heart, and Margaret didn't sound half as nice as a certain other name, that should not cross his lips, "for a man has but one heart and his heart--"

Here came Anton Bierman and his brother-in-law Jacob to fetch the faithless knight, and Anton, who had overheard the last words, a.s.sured Lambert that Adam was a perfect fool, though at bottom a goodhearted and brave fellow, and that the old Bellingers had left behind, besides the visible property, a nice round sum, and that if his sister Gretchen was willing he was satisfied. What did Lambert say to it?

Lambert said, that he had always given Adam that advice and would also do it under present circ.u.mstances; and to the same effect he spoke to Richard Herkimer as, two hours later, they two trotted up the creek.

"Adam," said he, "is not so great a fool. The fellow has mother wit enough, and, if he can be easily teased, so his antagonists for the most part do not escape without some scratches. He is also brave, when he must be. That he showed at that trying time in the block-house. In wedlock one must be brave. Therefore I always advise to found a new home when it is suitable. And then, Richard, the German only increases when he has his own hearth, when he can care and work for house and home, for wife and child. So I salute the smoke that rises from a new hearth like a banner about which will gather a group of German pioneers, as Mr. Brown calls them, who lead forward the host that shall come after us."

Richard looked at his companion with some astonishment. Lambert had always so few thoughts and words. He would have liked to ask whether Lambert expected to be one among the coming host, but they had just reached his house, and Lambert bade him give his compliments to Annie, pressed his hand and trotted away.

Yes, Lambert always had but few thoughts for others, but not for Catherine. He could tell her everything that his warm heart suggested and about which his ever active mind was busy. She, the handsome, good, intelligent one understood it, felt as he did, and often made things clear that he could not himself see through. What would she say to the proposition that Mr. Brown had made to him? "On, Hans, old fellow, yet a little trot."

Hans was satisfied. The five years had not weakened his strength. He could, if a long, sharp trot was necessary, yet make a round of ten miles with any horse.

But this time the well-known endurance of the active horse was not put to the test. He had scarcely trotted two hundred yards and was beginning to enjoy it, when his master, with a sudden jerk, held him up, and at the next moment sprang out of the saddle.

"Catherine!"

"Lambert!"

"How are the children?"

"All well. Conrad did not want to go to bed before he had seen you."

"And little Ursul?"

"To-day got her third tooth."

"And little Catherine?"

"Sleeps wonderfully."

They walked on along the bank side by side, leading Hans by the bridle.

"Are you yet thinking about it?" said Catherine.

Lambert did not need to ask about what he should be thinking. One does not forget things like that. It seemed as though it had occurred but yesterday.

And yet there had been great changes since that evening. Where they then walked along the seldom-trodden meadow-path they now went through waving grain fields on a well-beaten road in which a deep, firm wagon-track was cut. There were fields with suitable buildings in all directions, as far as the edge of the woods, which in many places had been cleared far back. Where portions of the old wood pasture showed themselves between the cultivated fields, there large gates had been put, over which here and there a colt or a heifer coming up looked with large, languid eyes, while farther on in the pasture the rest were feeding in the rank gra.s.s. On through meadows and fields were seen the s.h.i.+ngle roofs of large farmsteads, beside which the old barns which had been burned down would have looked very mean. On the place where the block-house was, there now stood forth a stately stone-house in whose gable the windows were glowing in the evening sun.

Yes, there have been great changes since that evening which to Lambert seemed like yesterday, as though he had never lived without his wife and children.

They had put Conrad to bed, and Catherine with her soft voice had sung the wild boy to sleep, while the other two little ones, with their red cheeks, were slumbering quietly in their beds. They sat before the door in the honeysuckle-arbor, through which the soft, summer evening wind was murmuring.

Lambert told his wife the events of the day, and about Mr. Brown, and they discussed Mr. Brown's plan of extending the German settlements farther up the creek, over to the Black River--if possible to Oneida Lake--and that Mr. Brown, Nicolas Herkimer and himself were to buy the land, and that he was to be the leader and patron of the new settlers.

He also told Catherine what the old man had said about the future of the Germans in America, and how the Englishman feared that this hardy, industrious race would yet surpa.s.s the English and take from them their dominion over the continent.

"Such language from the mouth of so intelligent a man might make us very proud," said Catherine.

"So I thought too," said Lambert. "And yet, when I reflect upon it more fully it makes me quite sad."

"How do you mean, Lambert?"

"I mean the industry, the pains, the labor, the strength, the courage, the energy, we must use to carry it so far here will be such that they might perhaps better remain in the old home. As you have painted your father to me, mild, generous, helpful, learned; such as was my father, quick, decided, looking far ahead; such as was Uncle Ditmar, unbending, stern and refractory; such as was our n.o.ble Conrad and Aunt Ursul. What precious blood this new land has already drunk and in the future will drink! And does it produce the right fruit from the costly seed. I know not. Granted that we attain all which our old friend promises us--though it sounds like a fable--but granted that we reach it, and that we should once have to divide the rich inheritance with the English, should we remain Germans? I doubt it, and you yourself, Catherine, have taught me to be doubtful. What would I be without you?

And you had to come to me from the old home--could come only from the old home. In your soul there sounds a deeper, purer tone, just as in the beautiful songs that you brought over with you. Will a still deeper tone sound in the souls of our children? What will be their condition should it die out?"

Lambert was silent. Catherine leaned her head on his shoulder. She found no answer to a question that had already filled her breast with sad anxiety.

"And so," Lambert continued, "my heart is divided into two parts.

To-morrow, when the old friend comes, I will go out with him into the woods and show him the way by which those who are to come must go, and point out the places where they must build their huts. But as for myself, I would rather tear down the huts and take you and the children--how goes the song, Catherine, with which you just now sung our boy to sleep, the dear, old song, out of the dear, old home--

"Were I a wild falcon, I would soar aloft."

And he pointed toward the east where, in the holy mother-arms of the dark night, the glory of the coming day was slumbering.

THE END