“will you be here to-morrow, seppi?”
“yes, little herr. i come every day with the goats. i like this place the best of any, and so do they.”
“i shall come and see you again, then,” said squib, with a satisfied smile.
“thank you, little herr.”
“what do you do all day when you have nobody to talk to? were you writing something when i saw you first?”
seppi shook his head, but drew from his wallet the pencil and paper he had stowed away there when the children had shared together their mid-day meal.
“sometimes i try to draw a little,” he answered, with a loving look round him at the wonderful outlines of the eternal hills, glowing with the glories of the westering light. “but all that is too big for me. i draw my goats and moor the best. see!” and with a few rapid touches, which showed that there was talent in those thin brown fingers, seppi drew a 85picture of one of his own goats standing with a defiant expression on his queer, semi-human, bearded face, whilst moor was represented admonishing him with a peremptory bark, as squib had seen him do a dozen times that day, when some more independent goat wandered away and appeared disposed to resent his authority.
squib laughed aloud as he watched the quickly-moving pencil.
“oh, seppi, how clever you are! i wish i could draw like that! who taught you?”
“nobody, exactly. it seems to be in my fingers. but the herr adler told me many things that helped, and he gave me a box of pencils when he was here last, and left me all his paper when he went away. it’s nearly done now. i have to be very careful. but if he comes again this summer perhaps he’ll give me some more. he is so very kind.”
squib could not linger longer. it was time he went back. but as he pursued his homeward way his face was glowing with happiness and with a generous purpose.
a new page of history had been turned before squib’s eyes that day; a new world had been opened out before him. hitherto he had lived amongst those to whom all the good things of this world come as a matter of course. he himself had had every reasonable pleasure and enjoyment ever since he could remember, and although his nurses and parents had 86told him from time to time that other little boys were not so well off as himself, he had not yet realized how wide was the gulf which separated his lot from that of the majority of those about him.
at home he had heard of poverty and trouble; he had always been used to go in and out of the cottages on his father’s estate and talk to the people in them, but he had always fancied that it must be very nice to live as they did. he found them smiling and content. he knew that in sickness and trouble they were cared for; nothing in their condition aroused his pity or compassion. he used often to think he should like to have one of the cottages himself, and work on the farm instead of going to school. all the conditions of life which he had seen in england were too familiar to have aroused speculation, but with this little mountain goat-herd everything seemed different.
he did not quite understand what the difference was, but in talking to seppi he had realized it more than once with singular clearness. he had gleaned that seppi hardly knew the taste of meat, that he and all his family lived with a frugality almost unknown in england. the bit of black rye-bread and morsel of goat’s cheese which had been seppi’s dinner gave him a better idea of what life in the chalets was like than he had had before. he had shared his own dainties with the wondering seppi, who had plainly never tasted anything approaching such luxuries before, 87and could hardly believe that the little herr fed like that every day. as for squib, he had eaten a portion of the hard bread and cheese with a certain heroic relish, pleased with the novelty of sharing a real goat-herd’s swiss dinner, but he could not honestly feel that he should like such fare every day, and he secretly had no small admiration for the boy who seemed to take these things as a matter of course.
and then to think that seppi could not even obtain pencil or paper for himself, and could indulge his favourite occupation only through the kindness of a chance visitor! why, to squib such things came as naturally as the food he ate or the clothes he wore. it would never have occurred to him that there could be any difficulty in getting pencils. squib spoilt or lost a dozen pencils in the year, and as for paper—why, there was always an endless store at home. and seppi had to be careful of his meagre supply because he could get no more unless herr adler came back.
the child’s eyes glowed with a mixture of feelings as he realized this, and he hurried home as fast as his legs would carry him, full of a new purpose and plan.
up to his room he hastened by the little outer stairway which was such a source of delight to him, and straight to the cupboard where all his treasures were stored. this cupboard was in a state of quaint disorder, but squib always knew where to find what he wanted, though the object he was searching for now 88was hidden away almost at the bottom of the receptacle. he drew it forth at last, however, with a look of pride and delight. it was nothing more or less than a big square sketch-book, with thick drawing-paper of different soft tints filling its stout black covers. squib set to work to count the leaves, and found that there were fifty.
yes, positively fifty! fifty pages for seppi to fill with drawings of his goats, his dog, perhaps even the outlines of the hills or the little picturesque water-troughs or bridges.
“i’m sure she won’t mind when i tell her about seppi. i never draw. i don’t think i have time or know how. i’ll get seppi to give me one of his drawings for her, and when i tell her all about him and how pleased he was, i’m sure she’ll be glad for him to have it.”
for the sketch-book had been given to squib by an aunt of his, who had come to say good-bye at the chase before they all went away. he had wandered into her room one day, as he had a way of doing, and this book was lying on the table. he asked its use, and was told that it was a sketch-book, and after they had talked a little more his aunt had said he might have it, and that perhaps he would be able to bring home a few little sketches of some of the things he had seen in switzerland, or of the chalet in which he was going to live.
of course squib had been delighted with his new 89possession, and at the time had fancied he should draw a great deal. he was yet more sure of this when his aunt had given him a box of coloured chalks with beautiful fine points to help him with his picture-making. but somehow, since his arrival at the chalet, other interests had come uppermost, and squib had really not thought of his sketch-book at all since he had unpacked it and put it carefully at the bottom of the cupboard, until reminded of it to-day.
now as it lay open on his knee, and he drew out the box of chalks and looked lovingly at them—for they were very pretty—he felt a glow of pleasure in picturing the happiness they would give. it was just a little more difficult to think of parting with the chalks than with the book, but squib would not let himself hesitate for a moment.
“you greedy boy!” he said aloud in a tone of stern admonition, “you know you have got so many things yourself you don’t know hardly what to do with them all; and seppi has got almost nothing, and is lame, and can’t do anything but sit still all day and mind his goats. and you can’t draw a bit, hardly, and he can beautifully. you’re just to give him everything and not be a pig. i’m ashamed of you, i really am, thinking you’d like to keep those chalks yourself!”
and squib shook his head quite fiercely at himself, and scrambled to his feet with sketch-book and chalks safe in his grasp. he made them up into a neat 90parcel and put them into his bag, and then went off to find lisa and tell her all about seppi.
lisa knew seppi quite well, and said that he was a very good little boy, and that his parents were very honest, hard-working people. their name was ernsthausen, and they had lived a long time in the valley. the father went off to the mountains to act as a guide during the summer, and the mother stayed at home and cultivated their bit of land with the aid of one son and daughter, whilst little lame seppi minded the goats and did a little wood-carving sometimes, though there was not much sale for it up here, and so many people carved nowadays that it was not always easy to get money for such work.
squib listened with great attention and interest, many plans coming into his head the while. perhaps he would get seppi to give him some lessons in carving and pay him for them. he would speak to mother about it sometime, when he knew seppi better and had time to begin. he would like to carve above everything. he had already bought a good many charming little carved-wood animals at interlaken to give to sisters and friends at home, but to be able to carve them for himself would be yet more attractive and delightful.
next day squib was off betimes to his new valley, which in his mind he had already christened the vale of the silent watchers. there was a vein of poetry running through squib’s nature, which helped him to 91enjoy the scenes about him as he could not otherwise have done, and those two silent peaks, with their crowns of everlasting snow, looking down on the smiling valley and shutting it in (as it appeared to him) at either end, had powerfully affected his imagination. his dreams that night had all been of mountain giants and snowy solitudes, and he awoke eager to talk more with seppi about the ideas which came crowding into his head.
lisa packed him up a more bountiful lunch than usual, when she knew he was going to join seppi again. the little satchel was quite heavy, what with the sketch-book and what with the dinner, but squib was delighted at the weight of his burden, and hurried down the rough path and up the opposite side with a light heart and bounding footstep.
seppi was there before him at the green knoll. squib heard the sound of the goats’ bells even before he reached the crest of the ridge. but this time seppi was sitting with his face towards him, and as soon as he saw his companion of yesterday, he waved his hat and shouted a glad greeting, whilst moor rushed forward with a sharp, joyous bark.
it was very nice to have a friend now to welcome him and to talk to. the boys met with the frank fellowship which is only possible on such short acquaintance between children.
“i’ve got something for you, seppi!” cried squib, as soon as he had disburdened himself of his satchel, 92and was wiping his hot face with his pocket-handkerchief. “would you like to see what it is?” and opening the bag, he drew out his parcel and placed it in seppi’s hands.
“is it for me?” asked seppi, with wide-open eyes, as though such a thing as a gift were too wonderful to be understood all at once.
“of course it is,” answered squib, “for your very own self. i hope you’ll like it. i think you will.”
squib’s face was flushed with exercise and with generous pleasure. over seppi’s had stolen a strange look of mingled wonderment and awe. in all life before (which seemed a long one to him) he never remembered receiving such a grand present as this square parcel done up in paper and string. he was almost afraid to open it, and sat clasping it between his trembling hands, till moor pushed an inquisitive nose against it and squib said laughingly,—
“don’t you want to see what it is, seppi?”
seppi would not have minded how he prolonged the exquisite pleasure of that moment, but at squib’s words he slowly began to unfasten the string and unfold the brown paper. with the same deliberate slowness and look of rapturous intentness on his face, he drew forth the square black book and the long box beside it, and with a strange, fleeting glance at squib and a catch in his voice, he asked—
“what is it, little herr?”
“why, a book for you to put your pictures in, to 93be sure,” answered squib, taking it for a moment into his own hands and opening it. “see, all these pages are blank—you can put in just what you want; and when you have drawn anything you can colour it if you like with these chalks. see—” and squib took off the lid and displayed to seppi the rows of graduated pointed chalks all ready for use, and of all colours that a young artist could want.
seppi turned from red to pale and from pale to red. it seemed as if he could hardly believe his eyes or his ears; but that he understood the nature of the gift was plain from the emotion which it excited in him.
“for me! for me!” he kept saying almost under his breath. “oh, i can’t believe it; i can’t understand it; it is too wonderful altogether.”
squib was greatly delighted at the success of his experiment. he could not get seppi all at once to begin drawing in his book. it was too beautiful to be done anything with save to be looked at and caressed. but when the first stress of emotion had passed, squib got the boy to make a picture of moor and two of the goats upon the brown paper of the wrapper, and to colour them with the chalks, thereby producing a picture which so delighted him that he begged to have it to take home to his mother and lisa.
seppi was like a boy in a dream all that day. he sat gazing out at the mountains with his very soul in his eyes, and by-and-by squib drew from him the fact of his intense longing to put on paper those familiar 94and well-loved outlines, only his attempts hitherto with his imperfect materials had resulted always in disheartening failure.
squib, however, explained eagerly that on thick paper, and with chalks to give effects of colour, it would be far easier to draw mountains than in pencil on flimsy bits of shiny writing paper; and when at their dinner hour squib showed him that bread crumbs would rub out pencil marks from paper without leaving a trace behind, seppi consented at last, although in visible fear and trembling, to try to put upon paper the outlines of the familiar ridge of snow-capped hills under whose shadow he had been born and brought up.
breathlessly one boy worked and the other watched. seppi had the gift of an inborn talent; squib had had a little technical training, and had always been keenly observant, besides possessing a retentive memory. all his small store of knowledge and recollection was brought out in aid of seppi’s efforts, and the picture slowly grew and grew to the delight and wonder of both.
when it came to the use of the chalks—putting the snow-white crowns to the mountain tops, the green slopes, the bold dashes of red where here and there the sun struck hot on some ruddy rocks and made them glow like fire—the excitement became intense. seppi drew his breath hard as he worked, and squib kept up a running commentary of advice, 95observation, and enthusiastic praise. whatever the picture might have appeared to an outsider, to the vivid imaginations of the children it was a marvellous reproduction of the scene. why, even seppi’s brown chalet, with its wood-stacks and boundary walls were all there in place, and the green-blue glacier away to the right was seen creeping down the hillside at the corner.
“it is quite splendid,” cried squib at last, warned by the rosy flush in the sky that he must be going. “o seppi, you are clever! i wish i could draw like you! but never mind, if you can do it that is just the same. i’ll watch you, and some day you shall do me a picture to take to aunt adela—it was she who gave me the sketch-book to draw in—and she’ll see how clever you are, and how nice it is for you to have a book to keep your drawings in.”
if this new amusement made such a mark in squib’s history just at this time, what must it have done in seppi’s?
by the time squib had reached the vale of the silent watchers next day, seppi had been hard at work for above an hour giving loving touches to his picture of the night before, trying effects and making little studies upon the bits of paper in which squib’s dinner of yesterday had been wrapped, every one of which had been eagerly kept and hoarded by seppi.
and now a new life began for both the boys, between 96whom such a bond of fellowship had been formed. squib confided his ambition of learning to carve to seppi, and seppi, delighted to do anything for one to whom he felt he owed such a debt of gratitude, assured him that it was quite easy to learn to carve little animals and so forth, and offered to teach him the art so far as he knew it himself.
a compact was soon made. squib had more than one knife, and one of almost perilous excellence, given him by uncle ronald. seppi could bring him any number of little blocks of wood which had been rudely shaped by himself at home, and for which squib insisted on paying at what seemed to the little goat-herd to be fabulous rates. but squib had his own views on these matters and was very resolute.
“you shall teach me to carve if you will,” he said, “and i won’t pay you for that, because we’re friends. but i will pay for the wood, because i want you to have some money to get paper or chalks with when these are done and when i’ve gone away. my father and mother give me money, you see, and i haven’t anything particular to do with it. i want to buy your wood, and you must let me, please.”
then, these preliminaries being amicably settled, the two boys would pass whole days together in that sunny, quiet valley, the one intent upon his pictures, ever learning, ever finding fresh facilities in the use of his new materials; the other, equally engrossed with his knife and wood, appealing constantly to his patient teacher for hints and instruction, but showing an aptitude for form and a dexterity of manipulation which excited seppi’s honest admiration.
“breathlessly one boy worked and the other watched.”
page 94.
97very happy were those days of cloudless sunshine, when it was almost too hot for squib to ramble far afield, and when sitting beside seppi in the shade of the pine woods, watching him draw, and carving busily at his growing family of goats and dogs, was the pleasantest thing he could find to do.
when not too much engrossed in their tasks, the children would talk together of all the thoughts and fancies in their heads. seppi caught at squib’s fancy about the silent watchers of the valley with the eagerness of a true son of the mountain. he had not the same power of expression that squib could boast. he could describe what he had seen or heard, but found it less easy to put into words his own imaginings; but he hailed with delight any fanciful idea of the little herr’s, and they soon began to live in a world and atmosphere of their own, which comes so readily to those upon whom the spell of the mountains has fallen.
squib had many fancies about that rugged range opposite. he fancied it the home of a great mountain giant, who dwelt in some mighty caverns within. when the echoes of the valley would be awakened by the fall of great avalanches into some far-away and unseen valleys on the opposite slope, he would lift his head and cry,—
98“hark! there is the giant playing bowls in his cave!”
and when little cloud-wreaths circled about the tops of the ridge, or lay idly along the hollows, he would pull seppi by the sleeve and say,—
“see, the giant is smoking his pipe to-day! you can see the smoke coming out at the cracks!”
there was endless amusement and variety for squib in that peaceful vale overlooked by those silent watchers, who, he was sure, regarded him and his comrade with protecting kindliness and an especial favour. when it was not too hot, or he was not too busy, he would stroll down to the bed of the stream below, where a great flat stone rising high out of the water gave him a little island home of his own. a willow tree had sprouted out from a fissure in the stones, and hung over the rock, affording shelter from the sun. within this little green retreat squib passed many a happy hour, sitting very quiet, looking down into the sparkling depths of the dimpling water, and listening to the numberless tales it told him.
sometimes strange changes would occur to that friendly stream, even as he lay watching it and listening to its never-ceasing babble. it would suddenly rise and swell, and down from the heights above would come tossing and foaming a great surging volume of water, sometimes brown and turbid, sometimes clear and sparkling, laughing, playing, foaming, and shouting as it raced onwards to the lake below. 99and seppi would explain to squib afterwards that that happened with a sudden fall of snow or ice into the stream above. it would perhaps remain there in a mass for a day or two; then the hot sunshine would strike it and melt it with wonderful rapidity, and the volume of water suddenly set at liberty would come tearing down the rivulet to swell the stream and rush helter-skelter to the lake.
this thought made it all the more interesting when it happened again, and squib would lean over his rock and watch the quick rise of the water, and the swirl and thunder of the miniature cascades, and say to himself,—
“the giant has been throwing his snowballs about, and the sun is driving the ice-maidens deeper and deeper into their caverns. perhaps the giant throws the snowballs after them to make them run away quicker! i wonder if i should ever see them if i were to be here in the long cold winter, when they fly about touching everything with their wands, and sending all the world to sleep till the sun comes to wake it. they must be very beautiful with their white robes and crystal crowns, and sceptres tipped with moonlight; but i think they are rather cruel, too. perhaps it is better to come when they are driven back into their green caverns, and can only hurt the people who seek them there.”
as time went on squib began to know all about seppi, though to be sure there was not much to know in that very simple and uneventful life.
100it was as lisa had said. his father, who knew the mountains well, went out every year through all the summer months as a guide; and seppi said his mother always cried each time he went away, because she knew he might never live to come back again. every year many brave men lost their lives on the mountains, and skill and strength were often of no avail against the reckless hardihood of inexperienced and rash travellers, who would not listen to advice, and who risked other lives besides their own in their folly and pride. nevertheless, hitherto the good god had always preserved him, and brought him safely home again, and his wife and children prayed every day that he might be kept from all peril.
at home there was peter to help mother in the fields, and ann-katherin, the little sister, who helped at home, and was seppi’s chief comrade and sympathiser, as squib quickly gathered, though seppi himself did not appear to be given to comparisons.
peter was older than seppi by one year, and very much taller and stronger. he was now twelve, and was looking forward to the time when he should be a man and could go out first as porter and then as guide, and leave the monotonous life of the valley for something more stirring. but for himself seppi had no such desire, even had it been possible for him to think of an active life. he and ann-katherin loved their home and their valley with a love too strong for expression—a love which had grown with their growth 101and strengthened with their strength till it had become an essential part of their nature. squib thought he could understand that feeling. he felt that if he had lived in this place he should never want to leave it. he remembered how lisa used to cry when she told him of her mountain home, and how he had longed to see it for himself. gradually as he grew to understand the life led by the peasants, its hardness and poverty, and yet its quiet contentment and business, a feeling came over him that it was a good life to lead—that a little with peace and contentment was far better than the feverish discontent that was always striving after more, even at the expense of the weaker ones who must of necessity “go to the wall” in the struggle.
squib was too young to enter with any real comprehension into the burning questions of the day, but he was too observant and quick not to have caught up some notions from the talk he heard amongst his elders from time to time.
“i like your country,” he said one day to seppi very seriously; “i think it’s a good country to live in. i wish our people in england would come and see you and learn to be like you. you don’t waste things, and you don’t grumble. you haven’t any workhouses and poor-laws; and you don’t seem to want them. you may be poorer than english people, but you’re much happier. i think it’s happiness that is the real thing. i wish we were as happy as you.”