Heidi | Page 4

I only twenty-six, you can't
expect me to give you an account of his early youth. But if you'll
promise to keep it to yourself and not set all the people in Prätiggan
talking, I can tell you a good deal. My mother and he both came from
Domleschg."
"How can you talk like that, Deta?" replied Barbara in an offended tone.
"People do not gossip much in Prätiggan, and I always can keep things
to myself, if I have to. You won't repent of having told me, I assure
you!"
"All right, but keep your word!" said Deta warningly. Then she looked
around to see that the child was not so close to them as to overhear
what might be said; but the little girl was nowhere to be seen. While the
two young women had talked at such a rate, they had not noticed her
absence; quite a while must have elapsed since the little girl had given
up following her companions. Deta, standing still, looked about her
everywhere, but no one was on the path, which--except for a few

curves--was visible as far down as the village.
"There she is! Can't you see her there?" exclaimed Barbara, pointing to
a spot a good distance from the path. "She is climbing up with the
goatherd Peter and his goats. I wonder why he is so late to-day. I must
say, it suits us well enough; he can look after the child while you tell
me everything without being interrupted."
"It will be very easy for Peter to watch her," remarked Deta; "she is
bright for her five years and keeps her eyes wide open. I have often
noticed that and I am glad for her, for it will be useful with the uncle.
He has nothing left in the whole wide world, but his cottage and two
goats!"
"Did he once have more?" asked Barbara.
"I should say so. He was heir to a large farm in Domleschg. But setting
up to play the fine gentleman, he soon lost everything with drink and
play. His parents died with grief and he himself disappeared from these
parts. After many years he came back with a half-grown boy, his son,
Tobias, that was his name, became a carpenter and turned out to be a
quiet, steady fellow. Many strange rumors went round about the uncle
and I think that was why he left Domleschg for Dörfli. We
acknowledged relationship, my mother's grandmother being a cousin of
his. We called him uncle, and because we are related on my father's
side to nearly all the people in the hamlet they too all called him uncle.
He was named 'Alm-Uncle' when he moved up to the Alm."
"But what happened to Tobias?" asked Barbara eagerly.
"Just wait. How can I tell you everything at once?" exclaimed Deta.
"Tobias was an apprentice in Mels, and when he was made master, he
came home to the village and married my sister Adelheid. They always
had been fond of each other and they lived very happily as man and
wife. But their joy was short. Two years afterwards, when Tobias was
helping to build a house, a beam fell on him and killed him. Adelheid
was thrown into a violent fever with grief and fright, and never
recovered from it. She had never been strong and had often suffered

from queer spells, when we did not know whether she was awake or
asleep. Only a few weeks after Tobias's death they buried poor
Adelheid.
"People said that heaven had punished the uncle for his misdeeds. After
the death of his son he never spoke to a living soul. Suddenly he moved
up to the Alp, to live there at enmity with God and man.
"My mother and I took Adelheid's little year-old baby, Heidi, to live
with us. When I went to Ragatz I took her with me; but in the spring
the family whose work I had done last year came from Frankfurt and
resolved to take me to their town-house. I am very glad to get such a
good position."
"And now you want to hand over the child to this terrible old man. I
really wonder how you can do it, Deta!" said Barbara with reproach in
her voice.
"It seems to me I have really done enough for the child. I do not know
where else to take her, as she is too young to come with me to
Frankfurt. By the way, Barbara, where are you going? We are half-way
up the Alm already."
Deta shook hands with her companion and stood still while Barbara
approached the tiny, dark-brown mountain hut, which lay in a hollow a
few steps away from the path.
Situated half-way up the Alm, the cottage was luckily