Heidi | Page 7

was the talk of everybody far and
near, and both in private and public the general opinion was expressed
that it was a punishment which Uncle had deserved for the godless life
he had led. Some went so far even as to tell him so to his face. Our
minister endeavored to awaken his conscience and exhorted him to
repentance, but the old man grew only more wrathful and obdurate and
would not speak to a soul, and every one did their best to keep out of
his way. All at once we heard that he had gone to live up the Alm and
did not intend ever to come down again, and since then he has led his
solitary life on the mountain side at enmity with God and man. Mother
and I took Adelaide's little one, then only a year old, into our care.
When mother died last year, and I went down to the Baths to earn some
money, I paid old Ursel, who lives in the village just above, to keep and
look after the child. I stayed on at the Baths through the winter, for as I
could sew and knit I had no difficulty in finding plenty of work, and
early in the spring the same family I had waited on before returned
from Frankfurt, and again asked me to go back with them. And so we
leave the day after to-morrow, and I can assure you, it is an excellent
place for me."

"And you are going to give the child over to the old man up there? It
surprises me beyond words that you can think of doing such a thing,
Dete," said Barbel, in a voice full of reproach.
"What do you mean?" retorted Dete. "I have done my duty by the child,
and what would you have me do with it now? I cannot certainly take a
child of five years old with me to Frankfurt. But where are you going to
yourself, Barbel; we are now half way up the Alm?"
"We have just reached the place I wanted," answered Barbel. "I had
something to say to the goatherd's wife, who does some spinning for
me in the winter. So good-bye, Dete, and good luck to you!"
Dete shook hands with her friend and remained standing while Barbel
went towards a small, dark brown hut, which stood a few steps away
from the path in a hollow that afforded it some protection from the
mountain wind. The hut was situated half way up the Alm, reckoning
from Dorfli, and it was well that it was provided with some shelter, for
it was so broken-down and dilapidated that even then it must have been
very unsafe as a habitation, for when the stormy south wind came
sweeping over the mountain, everything inside it, doors and windows,
shook and rattled, and all the rotten old beams creaked and trembled.
On such days as this, had the goatherd's dwelling been standing above
on the exposed mountain side, it could not have escaped being blown
straight down into the valley without a moment's warning.
Here lived Peter, the eleven-year-old boy, who every morning went
down to Dorfli to fetch his goats and drive them up on to the mountain,
where they were free to browse till evening on the delicious mountain
plants.
Then Peter, with his light-footed animals, would go running and
leaping down the mountain again till he reached Dorfli, and there he
would give a shrill whistle through his fingers, whereupon all the
owners of the goats would come out to fetch home the animals that
belonged to them. It was generally the small boys and girls who ran in
answer to Peter's whistle, for they were none of them afraid of the
gentle goats, and this was the only hour of the day through all the

summer months that Peter had any opportunity of seeing his young
friends, since the rest of his time was spent alone with the goats. He
had a mother and a blind grandmother at home, it is true, but he was
always obliged to start off very early in the morning, and only got
home late in the evening from Dorfli, for he always stayed as long as he
could talking and playing with the other children; and so he had just
time enough at home, and that was all, to swallow down his bread and
milk in the morning, and again in the evening to get through a similar
meal, lie down in bed and go to sleep. His father, who had been known
also as the goatherd, having earned his living as such when younger,
had been accidentally killed while cutting wood some years before. His
mother, whose real name was Brigitta, was always called