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Ebook has 537 lines and 28536 words, and 11 pages

PAGE 1. Life's Secret 1 2. Phakir Chand 16 3. The Indigent Brahman 51 4. The Story of the Rakshasas 61 5. The Story of Swet-Basanta 89 6. The Evil Eye of Sani 104 7. The Boy whom Seven Mothers suckled 113 8. The Story of Prince Sobur 119 9. The Origin of Opium 132 10. Strike but Hear 140 11. The Adventures of Two Thieves and of their Sons 152 12. The Ghost-Brahman 173 13. The Man who wished to be Perfect 178 14. A Ghostly Wife 188 15. The Story of a Brahmadaitya 192 16. The Story of a Hiraman 200 17. The Origin of Rubies 211 18. The Match-making Jackal 217 19. The Boy with the Moon on his Forehead 227 20. The Ghost who was Afraid of being Bagged 247 21. The Field of Bones 251 22. The Bald Wife 269

Facing page

"She rushed out of the palace ... and came to the upper world" Frontispiece "The Suo queen went to the door with a handful of rice" 1 "The prince revived, and, walking about, saw a human figure near the gate" 9 "She took up the jewel in her hand, left the palace, and successfully reached the upper world" 22 "He rushed out of his hiding-place and killed the serpent" 43 "Instead of sweetmeats about a score of demons" 56 "At the door of which stood a lady of exquisite beauty" 62 "In a trice she woke up, sat up in her bed, and eyeing the stranger, inquired who he was" 77 The Girl of the Wall-Almirah 90 "On a sudden an elephant gorgeously caparisoned shot across his path" 95 "They then set out on their journey" 106 "A monstrous bird comes out apparently from the palace" 117 "Hundreds of peacocks of gorgeous plumes came to the embankments to eat the khai" 123 "'You would adorn the palace of the mightiest sovereign'" 138 "He saw a beautiful woman coming out of the palace" 141 "'Husband, take up all this large quantity of gold and these precious stones'" 145 "They ran away in great fear, leaving behind them the money and jewels" 162 "The camel-driver alighted, tied the camel to a tree on the spot, and began smoking" 170 "'How is it that you have returned so soon?'" 174 "At dawn he used to cull flowers in the forest" 181 "The Brahman's wife had occasion to go to the tank, and as she went she brushed by a Sankchinni" 188 "The moment the first stroke was given, a great many ghosts rushed towards the Brahman" 194 "The lady, king, and hiraman all reached the king's capital safe and sound" 210 "'What princess ever puts only one ruby in her hair?'" 214 "Coming up to the surface they climbed into the boat" 216 "The jackal ... opened his bundle of betel-leaves, put some into his mouth, and began chewing them" 218 "A bright light, like that of the moon, was seen shining on his forehead" 237 "The six queens tried to comfort him" 238 "'Now, barber, I am going to destroy you. Who will protect you?'" 248 "They approached a magnificent pile of buildings" 259 "Thus the princess was deserted" 266 "When she got out of the water, what a change was seen in her!" 271

LIFE'S SECRET

There was a king who had two queens, Duo and Suo. Both of them were childless. One day a Faquir came to the palace-gate to ask for alms. The Suo queen went to the door with a handful of rice. The mendicant asked whether she had any children. On being answered in the negative, the holy mendicant refused to take alms, as the hands of a woman unblessed with child are regarded as ceremonially unclean. He offered her a drug for removing her barrenness, and she expressing her willingness to receive it, he gave it to her with the following directions:--"Take this nostrum, swallow it with the juice of the pomegranate flower; if you do this, you will have a son in due time. The son will be exceedingly handsome, and his complexion will be of the colour of the pomegranate flower; and you shall call him Dalim Kumar. As enemies will try to take away the life of your son, I may as well tell you that the life of the boy will be bound up in the life of a big boal fish which is in your tank, in front of the palace. In the heart of the fish is a small box of wood, in the box is a necklace of gold, that necklace is the life of your son. Farewell."

In the course of a month or so it was whispered in the palace that the Suo queen had hopes of an heir. Great was the joy of the king. Visions of an heir to the throne, and of a never-ending succession of powerful monarchs perpetuating his dynasty to the latest generations, floated before his mind, and made him glad as he had never been in his life. The usual ceremonies performed on such occasions were celebrated with great pomp; and the subjects made loud demonstrations of their joy at the anticipation of so auspicious an event as the birth of a prince. In the fulness of time the Suo queen gave birth to a son of uncommon beauty. When the king the first time saw the face of the infant, his heart leaped with joy. The ceremony of the child's first rice was celebrated with extraordinary pomp, and the whole kingdom was filled with gladness.

In course of time Dalim Kumar grew up a fine boy. Of all sports he was most addicted to playing with pigeons. This brought him into frequent contact with his stepmother, the Duo queen, into whose apartments Dalim's pigeons had a trick of always flying. The first time the pigeons flew into her rooms, she readily gave them up to the owner; but the second time she gave them up with some reluctance. The fact is that the Duo queen, perceiving that Dalim's pigeons had this happy knack of flying into her apartments, wished to take advantage of it for the furtherance of her own selfish views. She naturally hated the child, as the king, since his birth, neglected her more than ever, and idolised the fortunate mother of Dalim. She had heard, it is not known how, that the holy mendicant that had given the famous pill to the Suo queen had also told her of a secret connected with the child's life. She had heard that the child's life was bound up with something--she did not know with what. She determined to extort that secret from the boy. Accordingly, the next time the pigeons flew into her rooms, she refused to give them up, addressing the child thus:--"I won't give the pigeons up unless you tell me one thing."

Dalim. What thing, mamma?

Duo. Nothing particular, my darling; I only want to know in what your life is.

Dalim. What is that, mamma? Where can my life be except in me?

Duo. No, child; that is not what I mean. A holy mendicant told your mother that your life is bound up with something. I wish to know what that thing is.

Dalim. I never heard of any such thing, mamma.

Duo. If you promise to inquire of your mother in what thing your life is, and if you tell me what your mother says, then I will let you have the pigeons, otherwise not.

Dalim. Very well, I'll inquire, and let you know. Now, please, give me my pigeons.

Duo. I'll give them on one condition more. Promise to me that you will not tell your mother that I want the information.

Dalim. I promise.

The Duo queen let go the pigeons, and Dalim, overjoyed to find again his beloved birds, forgot every syllable of the conversation he had had with his stepmother. The next day, however, the pigeons again flew into the Duo queen's rooms. Dalim went to his stepmother, who asked him for the required information. The boy promised to ask his mother that very day, and begged hard for the release of the pigeons. The pigeons were at last delivered. After play, Dalim went to his mother and said--"Mamma, please tell me in what my life is contained." "What do you mean, child?" asked the mother, astonished beyond measure at the child's extraordinary question. "Yes, mamma," rejoined the child, "I have heard that a holy mendicant told you that my life is contained in something. Tell me what that thing is." "My pet, my darling, my treasure, my golden moon, do not ask such an inauspicious question. Let the mouth of my enemies be covered with ashes, and let my Dalim live for ever," said the mother, earnestly. But the child insisted on being informed of the secret. He said he would not eat or drink anything unless the information were given him. The Suo queen, pressed by the importunity of her son, in an evil hour told the child the secret of his life. The next day the pigeons again, as fate would have it, flew into the Duo queen's rooms. Dalim went for them; the stepmother plied the boy with sugared words, and obtained the knowledge of the secret.

The Duo queen, on learning the secret of Dalim Kumar's life, lost no time in using it for the prosecution of her malicious design. She told her maid-servants to get for her some dried stalks of the hemp plant, which are very brittle, and which, when pressed upon, make a peculiar noise, not unlike the cracking of joints of bones in the human body. These hemp stalks she put under her bed, upon which she laid herself down and gave out that she was dangerously ill. The king, though he did not love her so well as his other queen, was in duty bound to visit her in her illness. The queen pretended that her bones were all cracking; and sure enough, when she tossed from one side of her bed to the other, the hemp stalks made the noise wanted. The king, believing that the Duo queen was seriously ill, ordered his best physician to attend her. With that physician the Duo queen was in collusion. The physician said to the king that for the queen's complaint there was but one remedy, which consisted in the outward application of something to be found inside a large boal fish which was in the tank before the palace. The king's fisherman was accordingly called and ordered to catch the boal in question. On the first throw of the net the fish was caught. It so happened that Dalim Kumar, along with other boys, was playing not far from the tank. The moment the boal fish was caught in the net, that moment Dalim felt unwell; and when the fish was brought up to land, Dalim fell down on the ground, and made as if he was about to breathe his last. He was immediately taken into his mother's room, and the king was astonished on hearing of the sudden illness of his son and heir. The fish was by the order of the physician taken into the room of the Duo queen, and as it lay on the floor striking its fins on the ground, Dalim in his mother's room was given up for lost. When the fish was cut open, a casket was found in it; and in the casket lay a necklace of gold. The moment the necklace was worn by the queen, that very moment Dalim died in his mother's room.

When the news of the death of his son and heir reached the king he was plunged into an ocean of grief, which was not lessened in any degree by the intelligence of the recovery of the Duo queen. He wept over his dead Dalim so bitterly that his courtiers were apprehensive of a permanent derangement of his mental powers. The king would not allow the dead body of his son to be either buried or burnt. He could not realise the fact of his son's death; it was so entirely causeless and so terribly sudden. He ordered the dead body to be removed to one of his garden-houses in the suburbs of the city, and to be laid there in state. He ordered that all sorts of provisions should be stowed away in that house, as if the young prince needed them for his refection. Orders were issued that the house should be kept locked up day and night, and that no one should go into it except Dalim's most intimate friend, the son of the king's prime minister, who was intrusted with the key of the house, and who obtained the privilege of entering it once in twenty-four hours.

As, owing to her great loss, the Suo queen lived in retirement, the king gave up his nights entirely to the Duo queen. The latter, in order to allay suspicion, used to put aside the gold necklace at night; and, as fate had ordained that Dalim should be in the state of death only during the time that the necklace was round the neck of the queen, he passed into the state of life whenever the necklace was laid aside. Accordingly Dalim revived every night, as the Duo queen every night put away the necklace, and died again the next morning when the queen put it on. When Dalim became reanimated at night he ate whatever food he liked, for of such there was a plentiful stock in the garden-house, walked about on the premises, and meditated on the singularity of his lot. Dalim's friend, who visited him only during the day, found him always lying a lifeless corpse; but what struck him after some days was the singular fact that the body remained in the same state in which he saw it on the first day of his visit. There was no sign of putrefaction. Except that it was lifeless and pale, there were no symptoms of corruption--it was apparently quite fresh. Unable to account for so strange a phenomenon, he determined to watch the corpse more closely, and to visit it not only during the day but sometimes also at night. The first night that he paid his visit he was astounded to see his dead friend sauntering about in the garden. At first he thought the figure might be only the ghost of his friend, but on feeling him and otherwise examining him, he found the apparition to be veritable flesh and blood. Dalim related to his friend all the circumstances connected with his death; and they both concluded that he revived at nights only because the Duo queen put aside her necklace when the king visited her. As the life of the prince depended on the necklace, the two friends laid their heads together to devise if possible some plans by which they might get possession of it. Night after night they consulted together, but they could not think of any feasible scheme. At length the gods brought about the deliverance of Dalim Kumar in a wonderful manner.

Some years before the time of which we are speaking, the sister of Bidhata-Purusha was delivered of a daughter. The anxious mother asked her brother what he had written on her child's forehead; to which Bidhata-Purusha replied that she should get married to a dead bridegroom. Maddened as she became with grief at the prospect of such a dreary destiny for her daughter, she yet thought it useless to remonstrate with her brother, for she well knew that he never changed what he once wrote. As the child grew in years she became exceedingly beautiful, but the mother could not look upon her with pleasure in consequence of the portion allotted to her by her divine brother. When the girl came to marriageable age, the mother resolved to flee from the country with her, and thus avert her dreadful destiny. But the decrees of fate cannot thus be overruled. In the course of their wanderings the mother and daughter arrived at the gate of that very garden-house in which Dalim Kumar lay. It was evening. The girl said she was thirsty and wanted to drink water. The mother told her daughter to sit at the gate, while she went to search for drinking water in some neighbouring hut. In the meantime the girl through curiosity pushed the door of the garden-house, which opened of itself. She then went in and saw a beautiful palace, and was wishing to come out when the door shut itself of its own accord, so that she could not get out. As night came on the prince revived, and, walking about, saw a human figure near the gate. He went up to it, and found it was a girl of surpassing beauty. On being asked who she was, she told Dalim Kumar all the details of her little history,--how her uncle, the divine Bidhata-Purusha, wrote on her forehead at her birth that she should get married to a dead bridegroom, how her mother had no pleasure in her life at the prospect of so terrible a destiny, and how, therefore, on the approach of her womanhood, with a view to avert so dreadful a catastrophe, she had left her house with her and wandered in various places, how they came to the gate of the garden-house, and how her mother had now gone in search of drinking water for her. Dalim Kumar, hearing her simple and pathetic story, said, "I am the dead bridegroom, and you must get married to me, come with me to the house." "How can you be said to be a dead bridegroom when you are standing and speaking to me?" said the girl. "You will understand it afterwards," rejoined the prince, "come now and follow me." The girl followed the prince into the house. As she had been fasting the whole day the prince hospitably entertained her. As for the mother of the girl, the sister of the divine Bidhata-Purusha, she returned to the gate of the garden-house after it was dark, cried out for her daughter, and getting no answer, went away in search of her in the huts in the neighbourhood. It is said that after this she was not seen anywhere.

While the niece of the divine Bidhata-Purusha was partaking of the hospitality of Dalim Kumar, his friend as usual made his appearance. He was surprised not a little at the sight of the fair stranger; and his surprise became greater when he heard the story of the young lady from her own lips. It was forthwith resolved that very night to unite the young couple in the bonds of matrimony. As priests were out of the question, the hymeneal rites were performed ? la Gandharva. The friend of the bridegroom took leave of the newly-married couple and went away to his house. As the happy pair had spent the greater part of the night in wakefulness, it was long after sunrise that they awoke from their sleep;--I should have said that the young wife woke from her sleep, for the prince had become a cold corpse, life having departed from him. The feelings of the young wife may be easily imagined. She shook her husband, imprinted warm kisses on his cold lips, but in vain. He was as lifeless as a marble statue. Stricken with horror, she smote her breast, struck her forehead with the palms of her hands, tore her hair and went about in the house and in the garden as if she had gone mad. Dalim's friend did not come into the house during the day, as he deemed it improper to pay a visit to her while her husband was lying dead. The day seemed to the poor girl as long as a year, but the longest day has its end, and when the shades of evening were descending upon the landscape, her dead husband was awakened into consciousness; he rose up from his bed, embraced his disconsolate wife, ate, drank, and became merry. His friend made his appearance as usual, and the whole night was spent in gaiety and festivity. Amid this alternation of life and death did the prince and his lady spend some seven or eight years, during which time the princess presented her husband with two lovely boys who were the exact image of their father.

It is superfluous to remark that the king, the two queens, and other members of the royal household did not know that Dalim Kumar was living, at any rate, was living at night. They all thought that he was long ago dead and his corpse burnt. But the heart of Dalim's wife was yearning after her mother-in-law, whom she had never seen. She conceived a plan by which she might be able not only to have a sight of her mother-in-law, but also to get hold of the Duo queen's necklace, on which her husband's life was dependent. With the consent of her husband and of his friend she disguised herself as a female barber. Like every female barber she took a bundle containing the following articles:--an iron instrument for paring nails, another iron instrument for scraping off the superfluous flesh of the soles of the feet, a piece of jhama or burnt brick for rubbing the soles of the feet with, and alakta for painting the edges of the feet and toes with. Taking this bundle in her hand she stood at the gate of the king's palace with her two boys. She declared herself to be a barber, and expressed a desire to see the Suo queen, who readily gave her an interview. The queen was quite taken up with the two little boys, who, she declared, strongly reminded her of her darling Dalim Kumar. Tears fell profusely from her eyes at the recollection of her lost treasure; but she of course had not the remotest idea that the two little boys were the sons of her own dear Dalim. She told the supposed barber that she did not require her services, as, since the death of her son, she had given up all terrestrial vanities, and among others the practice of dyeing her feet red; but she added that, nevertheless, she would be glad now and then to see her and her two fine boys. The female barber, for so we must now call her, then went to the quarters of the Duo queen and offered her services. The queen allowed her to pare her nails, to scrape off the superfluous flesh of her feet, and to paint them with alakta and was so pleased with her skill, and the sweetness of her disposition, that she ordered her to wait upon her periodically. The female barber noticed with no little concern the necklace round the queen's neck. The day of her second visit came on, and she instructed the elder of her two sons to set up a loud cry in the palace, and not to stop crying till he got into his hands the Duo queen's necklace. The female barber, accordingly, went again on the appointed day to the Duo queen's apartments. While she was engaged in painting the queen's feet, the elder boy set up a loud cry. On being asked the reason of the cry, the boy, as previously instructed, said that he wanted the queen's necklace. The queen said that it was impossible for her to part with that particular necklace, for it was the best and most valuable of all her jewels. To gratify the boy, however, she took it off her neck, and put it into the boy's hand. The boy stopped crying and held the necklace tight in his hand. As the female barber after she had done her work was about to go away, the queen wanted the necklace back. But the boy would not part with it. When his mother attempted to snatch it from him, he wept bitterly, and showed as if his heart would break. On which the female barber said--"Will your Majesty be gracious enough to let the boy take the necklace home with him? When he falls asleep after drinking his milk, which he is sure to do in the course of an hour, I will carefully bring it back to you." The queen, seeing that the boy would not allow it to be taken away from him, agreed to the proposal of the female barber, especially reflecting that Dalim, whose life depended on it, had long ago gone to the abodes of death.

Thus possessed of the treasure on which the life of her husband depended, the woman went with breathless haste to the garden-house and presented the necklace to Dalim, who had been restored to life. Their joy knew no bounds, and by the advice of their friend they determined the next day to go to the palace in state, and present themselves to the king and the Suo queen. Due preparations were made; an elephant, richly caparisoned, was brought for the prince Dalim Kumar, a pair of ponies for the two little boys, and a chaturdala furnished with curtains of gold lace for the princess. Word was sent to the king and the Suo queen that the prince Dalim Kumar was not only alive, but that he was coming to visit his royal parents with his wife and sons. The king and Suo quee Naapuri oli h?nt? pilkannut: "Kehno mies, kun jo kerran hirven saavuttaa ja sitten p??st?tt??." Niin... naapurin oli hyv? pilkata, mutta mink?p? h?n luonnolleen mahtoi. Kun h?nen kerran oli niin vaikea tappaa, niin se oli niin. Siit? ei p??ssyt. Mutta nyt h?n yritt?isi... tappaisi armotta... Hukka... vai jo ett? hukka!... Seh?n oli peto eik? yht??n s??lin arvoinen. Tappoi lappalaiselta vaikka viimeisen ajokkaan. Vai ett? s??li?... huihai! Pehme?-Matti ei t?ll? kertaa aikonut s??li?. H?n ty?nsi sompansa lumeen ja hiiht?? nytkytteli menem??n, lapintakin helmojen lepsuttaessa hiihdon tahtiin.

Oli kummaa t?m? el?m?, oli. Ihminen hiihti ja peto pakeni... pakeni henkens? vuoksi. Se oli rakas jokaiselle... henkiriepu... hukallekin. Jumalan luoma se oli h?nkin... niinkuin muutkin. Vaikka ihmisen saaliiksi luotu... Niinkuin t?m?kin hukka t?ss? h?nen edell??n... h?nen, Matti Peltovuoman, saaliiksi... ja elatuksen avuksi. Se oli Jumalan j?rjestys sellainen. H?n saisi siit? tapporahat... ensinn?kin tapporahat... ja sitten viel? taljasta toiset rahat. Olipa somaa menn? kirkolle nimismiehen luo hukkaa katittamaan. Nimismies k?skisi istumaan ja sanoisi: "Vai hukan se Matti..." "Joo, hukan... ja olikin niin peijakkaan pahus hiihd?tt?m??n..." Niin h?n sanoisi... kiroaisi noin vain, vaikka olisikin herroissa, napsauttaisi tulemaan noin vain... ja sylk?iseisi lattialle.

Matti sylk?isi hangelle pitk?n, ruskean kaaren. Tupakkaakin saisi tapporahoilla, pari kiloa ven?j?nlehti?. Oli somaa menn? kauppias Kuusimaahan ja pyyt?? ven?j?nlehti?. "No, paljonkos pannaan?"... "No, jos heit? pari kiloa, etteiv?t aina olisi lopussa..." Kauppias katsoisi ihmetellen silm?lasiensa takaa. "No, mutta Mattihan taitaakin olla rahoissa!"... "No joo... on sit? nyt t?ll? kertaa, kuin nostin juuri tapporahat..." Kauppias joutuisi yh? enemm?n h?milleen. "Tapporahat?"... "Niin... hukan tapporahat." Ja h?n saisi kertoa kauppiaalle uudestaan koko historian.

Oli se somaa kulkea kirkolla, kun olivat tapporahat taskussa. Pappikin tulisi tiell? vastaan ja ryhtyisi puheisiin. "No Malli, p?iv??!" "Mik? se Malin nyi kirkolle... t?llaiseen aikaan?". "Se kun vain hukan tapporahoja perim?ss?..." "Vai jo tuli hukka? Myrkyll?k? vai...?" Olisi niin mukava naurahtaa ja vastata: "Ei... tuota mie ajatin ja hiihd?tti koranus viel? kovasti..." Niin... sen verran h?n uskaltaisi papillekin kirota.

Pehme?-Matti tunsi mielens? kepe?ksi. Kahvipannu lekkasi laukunkantimessa. Eukko siell? tietysti tuskitteli... mutta tuskitelkoon. Jouti se pannu olla kerta h?nenkin reissussaan. Palatessa saattoikin jonkun maan kainalossa kahvistella, kun ty? oli tehty ja saalis saatu. Nyt ei ollut aikaa. Piti painaa pedon per?ss?, jonka askelten v?li ei viel? n?ytt?nyt pienentyneen.

Peto se oli hukka, t?ysi peto. Kun p??si poroeloon, niin haaskasi kuin rosvo... tappoi mink? kerkesi. Ei tyytynyt yhteen... ei... surmasi niin monta kuin ehti. Tiesi, kuinka monta poroa oli t?m?kin surmannut. Olkoon... mutta nyt ei tainnut ?ij?rievulla en?? olla aikaa poroja vainuta.

Pehme?-Matti pys?htyi ja otti lunta suuhunsa. P?iv? oli jo hyv?n joukon sivu puoliv?lin ja yh? johtivat suden j?ljet eteenp?in. Sitke? elukka, ajatteli Matti, mutta tunsi samassa iloa. Sit? suuriarvoisempi oli saalis, kun se oikein vaivan takaa otettiin. Joo, joo, olipa soma palata kotia hukantalja selj?ss?.

Matti painoi eteenp?in. Kuta l?hemm?s tunturiseutua h?n ehti, sit? kantavammaksi k?vi lumi. Ei se en?? hukkaa paljoa pid?tt?nyt, mutta esteen? se oli sittenkin... sittenkin.

Hiihdetty??n muutaman kangaskappaleen, avautui Matin eteen iso aapa, laaja kuin j?rven selk?. Sen keskell? n?kyi musta pilkku, joka nousi ja laski. Siell? meni hukka, tuskin parin kilometrin p??ss?.

Pehme?-Matti sivautti aavalle kuin uusia voimia saaneena. Edess?, n?k?s?ll? oli jo saalis. Se kiihotti kumman voimakkaasti. Syd?n jyskytti ja pohkeissa nyki. Karvakintaat puristautuivat yh? tiukemmin sauvojen ymp?rille ja lumi sihahteli sivakan alla.

Hukka oli jo v?synyt. Sen askeleet tulivat lyhemmiksi. Paikoitellen oli se ottanut laukka-askeliakin kuin koira j?niksen ajossa. Tuo kaikki osoitti uupumusta. Peto p??si kuitenkin mets??n, ennenkuin v?limatka oli ehtinyt suurestikaan lyhet?.

Matti hiihti kiiluvin silmin ja kalpein poskin. H?nen suunsa oli v??nnyksiss? rajuista ponnistuksista. Mutta h?n oli p??tt?nyt kest??. Housunkauluksen alla hyrskyi hiki kuin lipe? tiinussa, mutta Matti ei siit? v?litt?nyt. H?n pisti m?llin poveen ja haukkasi ohrarieskasta aimo kappaleen.

Mutta hukka oli sitke?mpi kuin h?n oli arvannutkaan. Se juoksi j?ng?n toisensa j?lkeen, pit?en yh? kiinte?mmin suuntaansa Saariselk?? kohti. Sill? oli vahva aikomus ehti? tunturiin ja pelastautua.

Matti kirosi hengess??n. Koko p?iv?n h?n oli tarponut per?ss? ja nyt uhkasi saalis p??st? k?sist?. Ei, se ei saanut tapahtua! H?n pinnisti viimeiset voimansa ja hiihti huohottaen ja horjahdellen.

Aurinko laski. Puiden latvat punersivat hetkisen. Sitten levisi er?maan yli h?my, joka v?hitellen rupesi v?reilem??n kellanhohtoisena. Kuu oli noussut.

Saarisel?n huiput kohosivat suoraan edess?. Kuunvalo lainehti niill?, ajellen omituisia, vipajavia h?iv?hdyksi? tunturinrinnett? yl?s, alas. Ne olivat kuin leikkivi? henki?. Mattia rupesi hiukan pelottamaan, mutta h?n rohkaisi itsens? ja painoi suden j?lkeen.

Lev?ht??kin olisi tehnyt mieli, mutta Matti ei uskaltanut. Saariselk? oli liiaksi l?hell?. Menisi hukkaan koko p?iv?n ty?. Ei, sit? h?n ei sallinut itselleen. Piti vain ponnistaa herke?m?tt? muutaman nelj?nnestunnin, sitten joutaisi lev?ht?m??n ja kahvistelemaan.

Ahaa, jopa rupesi hukkakin uupumaan! Pehme?-Matti tarkasteli hiiht?ess??n j?lki? ja havaitsi ilokseen, ett? askelten v?li oli k?ynyt hyvin ep?s??nn?lliseksi. V?liin se oli pitempi, v?liin harmittavan lyhyt. Sitten tuli taas jonkun verran laukkaa ja sitten lyhyenlyhyit? askeleita.

Tuolla se nousi taas maalle. Saattoi n?hd? sen liikkeist?, ettei se en?? kauan jaksaisi. Ruumis horjahteli arveluttavasti ja h?nt? veti velttona per?ss?. Pehme?-Matti eh?tti j?lkeen, vaikka h?nenkin polvensa jo tuntuivat heikoilta ja hengitys k?vi yhten? l??h?tyksen?. Kuu valeli salaper?ist? hohdettaan pitkin j?ng?n pintaa.

Kuunvalo vaikutti Mattiin niin omituisen aristuttavasti. Ei k?ynyt en?? hautominen yht? murhaavia ajatuksia kuin p?iv?ll?, auringon ollessa korkealla. Hukkakin oli tuntunut pedolta p?iv?nvalossa, mutta nyt ymp?r?i sit? jonkunlainen viattomuuden keh?. Matin mieless? ailahti s??lin tunne. Sen sai kuunvalo aikaan.

Koko kiveli? oli muuttanut hahmoaan, arkiasunsa se oli huomaamatta vaihtanut pyh?iseen, juhlalliseen pukuun, joka kiehtoi mielt? yht? salaper?isesti kuin h?m?r? joulukirkko. Matin p??ss? risteiliv?t monenlaiset ajatukset. H?n muisti yht?kki? papin.

Oli jouluaamu ja pappi seisoi saarnatuolissa. H?n puhui rauhasta, joka kerran oli levi?v? luomakuntaankin. "Susi vierailee lampaiden kanssa", oli pappi sanonut. Se oli tuntunut merkilliselt?. Ja se aika tulee pian, oli pappi sanonut. "Sin?kin, yst?v?ni, joka nyt vainoat hukkaa laumasi pahimpana vihollisena, saat silloin kunnioittaa sit? Jumalan hukkana, joka sopii laiduntoveriksi lampaallekin." Se oli niin omituinen t?m? uusi pappi, jutteli kuin satuja saarnatuolista eik? juuri apostoleita maininnut.

Jumalan hukka... niin kuka meni takaukseen? Matin valtasi niin omituinen ep?varmuus. Mit?, jos h?n olikin ajattanut Jumalan hukkaa koko p?iv?n ja ker?nnyt synti? p??lleen? T?m? hukkahan oli maannut rauhassa j?rven rannassa t?rm?n alla. Miksei se olisi voinut ajokasta tappaa, joka oli siit? vain muutaman kymmenen metrin p??ss?. Huihai, olisi varmaankin, mutta se kun se ei ollut halunnut. Oli vain maannut rantat?rm?n alla ihmisen l?heisyydess?, -- ihmisen, jota toivoi parannuksen tielle. Mutta ihminen oli entisens? kaltainen. H?n ei ollut muuttunut: -- ajatti ja pyysi, tappoi ja ampui, jos vain sai tilaisuuden. Niinkuin h?nkin... Kuka oli oikeastaan peto? Eik? se ollut h?n... ja hukka... tuo, joka pakeni h?nen edell??n, oli parannuksen tehnyt... oli Jumalan hukka, josta pappi oli saarnannut.

Pehme?-Matti tunsi polvensa omituisen veltoiksi. 'Vaikea on ihmisen parannuksenteko', oli Saarna-Pietikin sanonut. Jo vain, Herra paratkoon. T?ss? lykkeli h?nkin maallisten toivossa, mutta kuolematon sieluparka lepatti avuttomana kuin riepu tuulessa. Jo vain... Herra paratkoon...

Matti saavutti maan ja nousi mets??n. H?nen varjonsa hiipi edell? puiden v?liss?. Se teki niin surkean k?yh?n vaikutuksen kaiken tuon juhlallisen ja hiljaisen keskell?, joka h?nt? ymp?r?i. Hukan j?ljet n?yttiv?t kuin viimeisilt? varoituksilta armon ajassa. Matti tunsi silm?ns? kostuvan ja h?n niiskautti nen??ns?.

Yht?kki? katkaisi er?maan hiljaisuuden pitk?, valittava ulvonta. Matti s?ik?hti niin ett? oli suistua silm?lleen. H?n luuli aluksi tuomion pasuunan soivan, mutia pian h?n tointui. Hukka oli pys?htynyt l?himm?lle aavalle ja ulvoi, kuono kuuta kohti.

Se oli tietysti v?synyt eik? jaksanut pitemm?lle. Ja senvuoksi se vuodatti tunteensa valittavaan ulvontaan. Se aavisti kuoleman l?hestyv?n. Tuo pieni, pahalta haiseva lappalainen sen toisi mukanaan. Hukka ulvoi yh? surkeammin ja odotti tuttua pamausta, mutta sit? ei kuulunut.

Pehme?-Matti oli polvillaan kinoksessa ja itki. H?n rukoili anteeksi suuria syntej??n. Hukan ulvonta johdatti mieleen is?vainajan viime hetket. Noin h?nkin oli huutanut... omantunnon vaivoissa, ennenkuin pappi tuli ja antoi synninp??st?n.

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