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Ebook has 2259 lines and 23308 words, and 46 pages

Illustrator: Frank Nicholas

Arne and the Christmas Star

Arne and the Christmas Star

Alta Halverson Seymour

Arne and the Christmas Star

"Oh, Mother, I hear Uncle Jens's folks are going up the mountain to the saeter tomorrow. Can I go along this time, do you suppose?" Arne's tongue was flying as he burst into the kitchen, and his blue eyes looked eagerly around for his mother.

No one was in sight but his grandmother, busy with her mixing bowl at the kitchen table. "Where's Mother, Besta?" he asked. "Cousin Bergel just told me they're going to take the cows and goats up the mountain tomorrow. Do you know who all are going? Do you suppose I can--"

"For goodness' sake, boy, you go on like a spinning wheel! It must be that red hair of yours that drives you along so fast. Just be quiet a minute, will you? I can only answer five or six questions at a time. Your mother and sister Margret are over helping Aunt Tina get things ready for the trip tomorrow."

"They're going, then! Oh, I hope I get to go too. I think I will, don't you?" Arne helped himself to a bit of cooky dough from the sticky yellow mass on his grandmother's floured board, looking warily at her out of the corner of his eye. Her hand was quick, and he might get a sharp rap on the knuckles.

But he didn't this time. She merely moved her board away from him and began adding flour to the dough. "Such a boy!" she exclaimed. "It would be a rest to me if your mother let you stay up on the mountain all summer."

Now she nipped off a piece of dough and molded it into a soft long roll which she deftly tied into a bowknot. She filled her pan with rows of similar bowknots and slipped it into the hot oven.

"Who's going, Besta, do you know?" asked Arne, watching the cooky-making with interest but wishing she would hurry and answer his questions. "I just wish we had a saeter of our own."

"Lots of use your father would have for such a thing!" scoffed Besta.

Arne's father was in the fish-packing business and owned just enough land to grow a little hay and keep a cow or two and some goats. But Uncle Jens was a real farmer; and, like most farmers in Norway, he had his own skyland pastures high in the mountain valleys where the grass grew green and lush. These were called saeters, and each had its little cabin where some of the daughters of the family spent their summers. The girls milked the cows and goats which were taken from the home farm to be pastured up there, made the cheese, and churned the butter. Arne thought some of the best fun of the summer was at the saeter. The day of moving up there was especially jolly.

"Cousin Signe will have to go, of course," he said, "and Bergel, I suppose."

"Yes, Bergel's old enough to help this year--almost as old as you. She's eleven now. Your sister Margret will take our own cows and goats up and tend to them. And of course Uncle Jens and Aunt Tina and little Knut will take the housekeeping things and help get the girls settled. And Cousin Evart--"

"And me--did they say I'm going?" Arne asked eagerly, as she paused.

Disappointment swept over him. It was worse than ever if Gustav was going and he couldn't. There was a lump in his throat, and it seemed to him he could hardly breathe. All spring he had been looking forward to this trip. He longed to be in the gay procession that would wind its way from the little village up the mountain road. Up it would go until the road became only a path, then still up and up. At last they would come to the little log house right on the cliff overlooking the fjord, with the pastures and valleys behind and mountains, gray with granite and green with pines, rising above it all.

First would go Suri, Uncle Jens's fat, light tan fjord pony with its black mane and tail. Arne was a great favorite of Suri's, for he always had a lump or two of sugar in his pocket, and she had learned to nuzzle for it as he patted and talked to her. Suri would pull the light hay cart piled with pots and kettles, milk pails and cans, chums and bedding, and all the other housekeeping things. When they reached the place where the road became no more than a trail, they would tether the pony and leave her to spend a pleasant day cropping tender mountain grass.

Aunt Tina would drive, and little Knut would ride beside her. The girls would be in charge of the cows and goats. Uncle Jens and Evart and Gustav would carry big packs, because they couldn't burden fat little Suri too heavily. No horse-loving Norwegian would think of it.

There they would go, the bells on the pony's harness jingling, the cowbells ringing, little Knut tooting or whistling, everyone singing and laughing. Even his cousin Bergel, just a girl and almost a year younger than he was, would be in that jolly procession; and he couldn't go. This year it would be more fun than ever, for Gustav was going too, and there was always a special lot of fun where Gustav was. It seemed to Arne he would fairly burst with disappointment.

He had hard work to keep from crying, but of course you couldn't do that when you were twelve years old--especially when there were people around. But his nose pricked and his throat ached; he had to wink fast and turn and walk over to the sink as if he wanted a drink of water--which he didn't.

Gustav stood looking at Besta, and Besta stood looking back to him.

"You'll be going up later on in the summer, Arne," said Besta comfortingly.

"I don't care about going later," said Arne, and his voice came out something like a croak. "I want to go now, when Gustav's going, and everything getting ready--"

"I was thinking," said Gustav slowly. "They're going to need all the help they can get to carry the stuff from where we leave Suri. Arne's a pretty big boy now, and he could be a lot of help. I know that's one of the reasons they want me to go."

"They want you because everyone wants to have you around," said Arne, his voice still muffled. But the heavy feeling in his chest lightened a little, and he turned half around, looking hopefully at his brother. Gustav was pretty good at finding a way out of things.

"We?" Arne's grin began to break out. "Do you mean you're going to help?"

Arne dashed joyfully across the room. "Say, I like to hang around the warehouse, too, but I can do that any time, and the saeter--well, that's different. And this year Uncle Jens is going to rig up an extra good kind of special works to send the milk cans and hay from the top of the cliff down to the level land. We've been talking a lot about it. I want to help with that."

Arne liked that old church. He liked the carved dragon heads which sprung from the highest gables and rose above the small turret that topped the whole edifice.

"We're lucky to have it, you know," said Gustav. "There aren't many of those old churches around Norway, and none at all anywhere else. It's nearly a thousand years old; did you know that? It's lasted since the days the old Vikings used to have to carry spears or bows and arrows when they went to church."

Gustav laughed. "Well, we do. So shake a leg."

The packing house stood at the edge of the fjord, handy for unloading the fishing boats and for loading the ships that carried the kegs and cans and bales of fish to far-off ports.

Father was a little surprised to see them; and he was pleased, too, though he didn't say so. Usually he had to make it very clear when he expected Arne to report for duty. And here the boy had come down himself and offered to help. Here was Gustav, too, who was on a vacation and not expected to do real work.

When they entered the kitchen a few minutes later, they were pleased to see that Mother was cooking a large pan of meat balls.

Arne thought his mother was very pretty, with her coppery hair that shone like one of her own brightly-polished pots, her deep blue eyes and quick smile. And he knew very well she was the most comfortable person in the world to be around. There was a capable air about her that made one feel good inside.

Father glanced at Mother, and his voice sounded as if he wanted to smile. But all he said was, "I'm afraid Arne is working himself out of a job."

Mother had been talking to Besta, and now she answered soberly, though her eyes twinkled. "It may be he will have to go along on that saeter trip and help there, if he's so eager to work."

Arne looked from one to the other. They sounded serious, but they often joked that way. He grinned and brought his hands together in a noisy clap. "Am I going to the saeter, then?"

"Let's see how we get along this evening with the work," was all Father would say. But Arne's heart felt light as he went back to the dock with the others. His fingers flew, and he sang louder than anyone.

The sun was still high in that land of the midnight sun when Father said, "Past nine o'clock. Time for a boy to be in bed if he's to be up early to start for the saeter."

"Oh, Father! I can go?" cried Arne.

"Oh, I will! Oh yes, sir!" cried Arne joyfully.

He wanted to say a special thank-you to Gustav for making it possible, but he didn't quite know how. Gustav was likely to make a joke of things, and this wasn't a joke at all. He did look up at his big brother, half shyly, as they walked up the hill toward home, and say, "I'm glad I am going. It was your doing, really."

"Oh that was just because I wanted you to carry the heaviest loads," said Gustav, with a wink. "I plan to take it easy. Don't you loaf on the job, boy."

He smiled and gave a friendly yank at a lock of Arne's red hair, and the boy felt so happy he ran and jumped nearly all the way home.

It was still broad daylight when Arne tumbled into his feather bed and pulled another feather bed over him for covering. June nights grew cold along the fjord.

It seemed to him he had hardly fallen asleep when his sister Margret was calling, "Get up, lazybones, if you want to come with the rest of us."

Almost before Arne had finished his breakfast of mush and milk and cheese, he heard a clatter on the upper road behind the house and dashed out.

There they all came, just as he had pictured it. His cousin Bergel ran to meet him, her blue eyes shining. "Can you go, Arne?" she cried, and at his nod, "Oh, good! I like it lots better if you're along."

"So do I," said Arne, and they both laughed.

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