The Outlaws | Page 2

He laid
himself flat upon the earth and crawled over the loose stones until he
reached the underbrush. There he hid among the tangled branches of
the young pines, sinking down, weak and helpless, upon the soft moss.
A single man might have captured him.
* * *
ÊÊ Tord was the name of the fisherman. He was but sixteen years old,
but was strong and brave. He had now lived for a whole year in the
wood.
ÊÊ The peasant's name was Berg, and they had called him "The Giant."
He was handsome and well-built, the tallest and strongest man in the
entire county. He was broad-shouldered and yet slender. His hands
were delicate in shape, as if they had never known hard work, his hair
was brown, his face soft-colored. When he had lived for some time in
the forest his look of strength was awe-inspiring. His eyes grew
piercing under bushy brows wrinkled by great muscles over the
forehead. His lips were more firmly set than before, his face more
haggard, with deepened hollows at the temples, and his strongly
marked cheek-bones stood out plainly. All the softer curves of his body
disappeared but the muscles grew strong as steel. His hair turned gray
rapidly.
ÊÊ Tord had never seen any one so magnificent and so mighty before.
In his imagination, his companion towered high as the forest, strong as
the raging surf. He served him humbly, as he would have served a
master, he revered him as he would have revered a god. It seemed quite
natural that Tord should carry the hunting spear, that he should drag the
game home, draw the water, and build the fire. Berg, the Giant,
accepted all these services, but scarce threw the boy a friendly word.
He looked upon him with contempt, as a common thief.

ÊÊ The outlaws did not live by pillage, but supported themselves by
hunting and fishing. Had not Berg killed a holy man, the peasants
would soon have tired of the pursuit and left them to themselves in the
mountains. But they feared disaster for the villages if he who had laid
hands upon a servant of God should go unpunished. When Tord took
his game down into the valley they would offer him money and a
pardon for himself if he would lead them to the cave of the Giant, that
they might catch the latter in his sleep. But the boy refused, and if they
followed him he would lead them astray until they gave up the pursuit.
ÊÊ Once Berg asked him whether the peasants had ever tried to
persuade him to betrayal. When he learned what reward they had
promised he said scornfully that Tord was a fool not to accept such
offers. Tord looked at him with something in his eyes that Berg, the
Giant, had never seen before. No beautiful woman whom he had loved
in the days of his youth had ever looked at him like that; not even in the
eyes of his own children, or of his wife, had he seen such affection.
"You are my God, the ruler I have chosen of my own free will." This
was what the eyes said. "You may scorn me, or beat me, if you will, but
I shall still remain faithful."
ÊÊ From this on Berg gave more heed to the boy and saw that he was
brave in action but shy in speech. Death seemed to have no terrors for
him. He would deliberately choose for his path the fresh formed ice on
the mountain pools, the treacherous surface of the morass in springtime.
He seemed to delight in danger. It gave him some compensation for the
wild ocean storms he could no longer go out to meet. He would tremble
in the night darkness of the wood, however, and even by day the gloom
of a thicket or a deeper shadow could frighten him. When Berg asked
him about this he was silent in embarrassment.
ÊÊ Tord did not sleep in the bed by the hearth at the back of the cave,
but every night, when Berg was asleep the boy would creep to the
entrance and lie there on one of the broad stones. Berg discovered this,
and altho he guessed the reason he asked the boy about it. Tord would
not answer. To avoid further questions he slept in the bed for two
nights, then returned to his post at the door.

ÊÊ One night, when a snow-storm raged in the tree-tops, piling up
drifts even in the heart of the thickets, the flakes swirled into the cave
of the outlaws. Tord, lying by the entrance, awoke in the morning to
find himself wrapped in a blanket of melting snow. A day or two later