Boyhood in Norway | Page 6

stones hailed down
round about him; occasionally one vicious missile would whiz past his
ear, and send a cold shudder through him. The tramp of his pursuers
sounded nearer and nearer, and his one chance of escape was to throw
himself into the only boat, which he saw on this side of the river, and
push out into the stream before he was overtaken.
He had his doubts as to whether he could accomplish this, for the blood
rushed and roared in his ears, the hill-side billowed under his feet, and
it seemed as if the trees were all running a race in the opposite direction,
in order to betray him to his enemies.
A stone gave him a thump in the back, but though he felt a gradual heat
spreading from the spot which it hit, he was conscious of no pain.
Presently a larger missile struck him in the neck, and he heard a
breathless snorting close behind him. That was the end; he gave himself
up for lost, for those boys would have no mercy on him if they captured
him.
But in the next moment he heard a fall and an oath, and the voice was
that of Halvor Reitan. He breathed a little more freely as he saw the
river run with its swelling current at his feet. Quite mechanically,
without clearly knowing what he did, he sprang into the boat, grabbed a
boat-hook, and with three strong strokes pushed himself out into the
deep water.
At that instant a dozen of his pursuers reached the river bank, and he
saw dimly their angry faces and threatening gestures, and heard the
stones drop into the stream about him. Fortunately the river was partly
dammed, in order to accumulate water for the many saw-mills under
the falls. It would therefore have been no very difficult feat to paddle
across, if his aching arms had had an atom of strength left in them. As
soon as he was beyond the reach of flying stones he seated himself in
the stern, took an oar, and after having bathed his throbbing forehead in
the cold water, managed, in fifteen minutes, to make the further bank.
Then he dragged himself wearily up the hill-side to Colonel Hook's

mansion, and when he had given his message to Viggo, fell into a dead
faint.
How could Viggo help being touched by such devotion? He had seen
the race through a fieldglass from his pigeon-cot, but had been unable
to make out its meaning, nor had he remotely dreamed that he was
himself the cause of the cruel chase. He called his mother, who soon
perceived that Marcus's coat was saturated with blood in the back, and
undressing him, she found that a stone, hurled by a sling, had struck
him, slid a few inches along the rib, and had lodged in the fleshy part of
his left side.
A doctor was now sent for; the stone was cut out without difficulty, and
Marcus was invited to remain as Viggo's guest until he recovered. He
felt so honored by this invitation that he secretly prayed he might
remain ill for a month; but the wound showed an abominable readiness
to heal, and before three days were past Marcus could not feign any
ailment which his face and eye did not belie.
He then, with a heavy heart, betook himself homeward, and installed
himself once more among his accustomed smells behind the store, and
pondered sadly on the caprice of the fate which had made Viggo a
high-nosed, handsome gentleman, and him--Marcus Henning--an
under-grown, homely, and unrefined drudge. But in spite of his failure
to answer this question, there was joy within him at the thought that he
had saved this handsome face of Viggo's from disfigurement, and--who
could know?--perhaps would earn a claim upon his gratitude.
It was this series of incidents which led to the war between the
East-Siders and the West-Siders. It was a mere accident that the
partisans of Viggo Hook lived on the west side of the river, and those
of Halvor Reitan mostly on the east side.
Viggo, who had a chivalrous sense of fair play, would never have
molested any one without good cause; but now his own safety, and, as
he persuaded himself, even his life, was in danger, and he had no
choice but to take measures in self-defence. He surrounded himself
with a trusty body-guard, which attended him wherever he went. He
sent little Marcus, in whom he recognized his most devoted follower,
as scout into the enemy's territory, and swelled his importance
enormously by lending him his field-glass to assist him in his perilous
observations.

Occasionally an unhappy East-Sider was captured on the west bank of
the river, court-martialed, and, with much solemnity, sentenced to