“I feel sorry for Robert,” he added. “He must be ailing. But until he shows me his gold I won’t believe a word of it! This time he won’t make a fool of me!”
Roberts unexpected return caused great excitement in the settler home; Kristina fell behind with her chores and supper was delayed. But at last the family gathered around the table in the kitchen, Robert between his brother and his sister-in-law. The children gaped at him and little Ulrika clung to his knee begging for more sweets.
Kristina looked closely at Robert. “You must have had a hard time of it?”
“Hunting gold is hard on one’s health.”
“Have you ailed in any particular way?”
“Everyone on the Trail suffers from the gold-sickness.”
But Robert did not further describe it. He looked around the new kitchen with its painted walls. In four years a person changed, and on the Trail one changed very fast. If he were to tell them all he had experienced they would have to sit at table here from now till Christmas, and still he wouldn’t get through more than half.
“We won’t ask you anything tonight,” said Kristina. “You must be tired.”
She filled his plate brimful with pea soup: he must eat and then get some sleep. She would put Harald’s and Johan’s bed in order for him; the two big boys could sleep on the floor for the time being.
“You are very kind, Kristina. You remember the food you prepared when I left — it lasted a long way on the journey. You’ve been kind to me in many ways.”
“You’re using a lot of English in your talk, Robert.”
Yes, he said, during these years he had really learned to speak English and it was a great help in traveling through this country. But with his own people he would of course always use his mother tongue, except when he forgot himself.
Before Robert had time to empty his soup plate, Kristina refilled it. “Put on some weight now! You’re only skin and bones!”
But two plates was all Robert could manage. When they left the table he picked up the quart measure from the hearth shelf, filled it with spring water from the bucket, and drank. “Good water is wonderful! Better than anything else!”
After supper Kristina sat down to give the breast to Ulrika. Then she put the girl in the cradle. Karl Oskar had recently put rockers under it and was mighty proud of his handiwork. Robert looked it over carefully. If only he had had such a cradle with him in the goldfields, he said. Gold had to be treated exactly like babies — put in cradles and rocked until all sand and refuse and dirt was winnowed away and at last it lay pure — clean and glittering in the bottom.
Kristina forgot what she had just promised and asked, “Where do they find gold?”
“All over. In the most unusual places.”
Gold could be found not only in the earth and the river sand and the rocks, explained Robert, but sometimes. . well, as an example he would like to tell them about something that happened the first year he was in California. Among his gang washing gold in a stream was a Negro. One evening when the gang had finished for the day and were on their way home, the Negro suddenly became very ill. He got such an intense stomachache that all he could do was to lie on the ground and yell to high heaven. Nobody could understand what was the matter with him and there was nothing to do for the sick man. He was unable to walk to the tent, so they left the yelling and whining Negro where he lay. Next morning when they started out for the stream the Negro still lay on his stomach where they had left him. But now he was quiet and yelled no more — he was dead.
Then one of the men guessed what had caused the man’s peculiar stomachache. He took his knife and cut open the cadaver. When he opened the stomach the glitter of gold was revealed; the insides of the Negro were gilded, filled with nuggets and gold sand.
The Negro had been a gold thief. He had stolen the gold from the others, a pinch now and then, and had hidden the gold in a safe place. He had put it in his mouth and swallowed it. He had of course expected the gold to come out intact when he went to the privy. But that was where be figured wrong; the nuggets caused a stoppage that killed the poor fool.
Now the thief’s comrades took back the gold he had stolen from them, cleaned out and washed each of his intestines. When they exchanged it for cash to divide it among themselves, it turned out to be worth four thousand dollars.
“There were eight men in the gang, and each one got five hundred dollars,” concluded Robert. Well, that was how one could find gold: he himself had been one of those digging for gold in a man’s stomach.
Kristina listened in horror to her brother-in-law. “How could they! That was terrible!”
Because of the heat the kitchen door stood open, and Karl Oskar sat on the threshold where he could still see in the lingering dusk, filing his wood saw.
“You have had horrible experiences, Robert!” said Kristina, looking at him with ever-widening eyes. He turned his head as she spoke to him, so that his right ear was turned toward her; his hearing must still be bad in his left.
“Did you hear that, Karl Oskar?”
Karl Oskar had heard every word but he acted as if he hadn’t been listening. He filed away at his saw, filed and kept silent. Once his eyes sought Kristina’s, as much as to say: you understand, don’t you?
Kristina was so stirred by Robert’s story that she could not hold back any longer — she must know. “Robert. . is it true. . have you really found gold in California?”
“I am satisfied.”
“Is it true? I mean. .”
She did not wish to hurt his feelings by sounding incredulous, she was searching for suitable words.
“You know why I left, Kristina,” he replied. “And I wrote in my letters I would not come back until I was a rich man.”
“And now you are rich?”
“I have done my last days work and had my last master. I have plenty. There’ll be enough for all three of us!”
Robert was standing close to the cradle, as if addressing himself to the child. He had said, almost casually, that he was so rich he had enough for himself, his brother, and his brother’s wife!
Kristina’s foot, rocking the cradle, came to a standstill when she heard that she was to share in his riches.
“I have plenty, Kristina! Of that you can be sure!”
But she sat in speechless confusion. Should she answer him: I don’t believe you! You are not rich! It’s a lie! But he spoke so calmly, so irrefutably. His words were as confident as if he were reading from Holy Writ.
From the doorway only the rasping of the file against the saw teeth could be heard. Karl Oskar must have heard his brother: I am rich. I have enough for all three of us! But he was unmoved. He remained silent and continued to file.
Karl Oskar had heard Robert, but he only felt that his brother had not learned anything from the times he had been found out and proven to be a liar. At his return he seemed more impudent and cheeky with his lies than ever before.
Was it right to pretend to believe him? Was it good for Robert himself? Wouldn’t it be kinder to speak out now and end his tall stories? Once and for all put an end to his lying?
The rasping and grating from the saw stopped; file in hand, Karl Oskar walked over to his younger brother. “Please, Robert, brother of mine. Stop lying to us! I can’t bear it any longer — it annoys me!”
Robert slowly turned his right ear toward him in order to hear better.
“I can’t stand a brother lying like that! Stop it!”
“You don’t believe me, Karl Oskar?” Robert asked in a dry tone.
Kristina looked in apprehension from one brother to the other.