Robert and Arvid, once having shared the same stable room, had sworn to stick together forever, never to separate. Now they crept under the same horse blanket: they had traveled far into the world, almost to the center of America, and they needed to stick together. Tonight they felt again like comrades in service, sharing a stable room. They were once again a couple of farm hands — and far from the Land of Gold.
— 2—
Later in the summer they began to dig in the earth again — but not for gold. They got work on a farm near town whose owner wanted a potato cellar dug. Their pay was seventy-five cents a day plus board, and in the farm kitchen they could eat as much meat and potatoes and beans as they wanted. But their room was a ramshackle shed where they were worse housed than in the stable room they had lived in in Sweden. The cracks between the boards were so wide that the wind blew through unhindered. But there were no bedbugs in the walls as there had been at Nybacken, where each morning they had awakened with fresh bites on their necks; this shed was so miserable that no vermin wanted to live there.
The boys were farm hands again. They had set out to dig for gold, but when they dug into the ground they found only sand and gravel, clay and rocks. Arvid, however, couldn’t help looking at his spade now and again, letting the dirt pour slowly from the blade: perhaps. . perhaps. .! But never a glowworm spark of anything glittering. Robert counseled his friend to be patient, as they couldn’t get any farther this year they must remain here and keep alive until spring. Next year they would find something different on their spades!
Arvid worried that they might be delayed so long that all the gold would be gone before they got there. Robert reassured him. In an American newspaper he had read that a very learned man, Mr. Horace Greeley, had said that California had at least two thousand million dollars’ worth of gold. As yet only two hundred million had been dug up; there was still eighteen hundred million left. Did Arvid think that with so much there would not be enough for him? Did he want more than eighteen hundred million dollars?
When the potato cellar was finished, they were put to work helping with the harvesting and the threshing; this kept them busy during the fall, and when winter came they were put to cutting wood. Now their wages dropped to fifty cents a day, but they could still eat as much meat and potatoes and beans as before. They might have liked their jobs if they had been better housed, but when winter came the sharp wind blew through the cracks of their shed and plagued them miserably, so that they crept close together at night to keep warm.
The winter continued and the cold increased, and Arvid began to complain. Why had they traveled so far to sleep in this rotten shed? It had been warmer in the stable room at Nybacken. Had they immigrated to America in order to lie here and freeze and suffer at night? Robert comforted him; they must be patient through the winter; then all suffering and evil would be over. And what they were doing furthered their plans; they were working their way to the gold land. They had peeled their way on the river, here they had dug their way along in summer, and now they were cutting their way to California. Every single ring of the ax brought them closer to the gold land by earning money for them. And they would get there if they had to creep and crawl the whole two thousand miles!
The younger boy always found words that cheered the older one. And they continued to saw and split and stack wood in tall piles. In the evenings it might happen that Arvid asked: how much gold was still left in California — how many millions? But one evening when they returned to their cold shed after a day of work, Arvid sank down on the bunk, his hands to his face:
“I can’t stand it any longer! I want to go home!”
He began to cry: he wanted to return to Minnesota, to his service with Danjel Andreasson, to the people from Sweden he knew. He had thought about it for a long while and he had made his decision: he didn’t want to go on to California. He didn’t care about the gold any more. He would give up the riches — it didn’t matter to him if he were rich or poor. He would just as soon be poor if he only could be with people he could take to and whom he knew. He didn’t want to work for an American farmer any more and have to live in this shed; he had had it much better with Danjel. As long as he must remain a farm hand anyway. .
“But I can’t find the way back. . I can’t ask in English. . Won’t you come with me, Robert. .? Let’s go back, please, Robert!”
“No, Arvid! I won’t return! Never!”
“But I can’t go back alone. . I can’t manage. . Please, Robert, come with me!”
“No! I want to see California!”
His friend’s weeping and pleading bothered Robert but his mind could not be changed. He would go on; he would not return to his brother in Minnesota until he had found gold and could return as a rich man.
And he reminded Arvid of their mutual promise, a promise for all times and all circumstances: whatever happened, the two of them must always stick together! Didn’t he remember the Sunday when they had made a bonfire at Lake Ki-Chi-Saga? They had been sitting there at the fire, warming their blue-frozen hands, and they had sworn that they would be comrades forever here in America, they would never part company!
Would Arvid now fail his comrade, and his oath?
They talked about it until late that evening — until at last they agreed again and shook hands on the promise: when the prairie was green with next spring’s grass they would continue west on the California Trail.
Yes — I heard it so welclass="underline" I heard you and Arvid agree. The two Swedish farm boys would never part in America.
I want to see California! you said. You wouldn’t change your mind. You persuaded him to stick to his promise. You can’t deny you did.
But you must know that already that first winter you had begun to doubt; your eyes had been opened, you had seen the road before you — you hesitated and thought, shouldn’t we turn back? Your eyes were no longer blinded by the gleaming gold two thousand miles away. For you knew already you hadn’t set out to look for gold! That wasn’t your reason. You took off to get rid of masters, all masters in the world. But you did not know what you were looking for instead. Something you had heard in a song. .?
And it was that first winter that I began to buzz and annoy you — perhaps because of the cold wind in the shed. Since then you have never been able to silence me for long; you have been forced to endure my sounds. And during your woodcutting winter in St. Louis that yellow, evil-smelling fluid began to run again; it is always an ominous sign.
And I have recorded and still keep Arvid’s voice: I can hear his words whenever I wish — that time, and that, and that! Please, Robert! he pleaded, like a little child. Please, Robert! Almost the same words, later. We come to that soon.
Yes, dear Robert, I have now buzzed for you so long this evening it’s time to buzz you to sleep. At last you always get so tired you go to sleep. Sleep now!
Good night, gold seeker!
XVI. WHILE THE RICHES LAY HIDDEN IN THE HOUSE
— 1—
Karl Oskar and Kristina often recalled to mind that week in June, 1855, when Robert had returned on a Monday.
Robert slept late on that June Tuesday morning of 1855, and no one disturbed him; he must be tired to death, they thought, and in need of rest. Karl Oskar had intended to do a day’s work on the church building, which had been started that spring, but as his brother had just come back, he stayed at home and did ordinary small chores. Kristina wanted to prepare good and strengthening food for the prodigal, so she robbed the chicken nests of fresh eggs, and for her brother-in-law’s breakfast she also made dumplings, which she knew he liked.