He looked up from the book: “Did you hear that, Kristina? A noble metal! Nineteen times heavier than water! And worth more than human life! This last isn’t in the book, of course, but I’m going to write it there!”
Kristina listened abstractedly; at the moment it was hard for her to concentrate on gold and gold washing. She was thinking of her boy inside in bed; she must go and see how he was.
“A wildcat almost scared the life out of Harald this morning, down at the lake. Why don’t you take Karl Oskar’s gun and shoot it!”
“Why should I kill a wildcat?” asked Robert, looking up from his History of Nature. “He has the same right to live as you or I.”
“But it’s a dangerous and beastly critter!”
“There are no beasts except white-skinned people.”
“Now you’re poking fun at me, Robert. I meant it seriously.”
“I’m not fooling. I have never seen any beasts except people. The wildcat only eats his fill, but people steal everything they see. They are worse than the wild beasts.”
“May God protect us if that is true!”
“It is true, Kristina. I should know.”
He had used a lot of English in his talk when he first returned, but after only a few days he spoke his native tongue as purely as before. His hearing, however, seemed to grow worse; when she spoke to him he always put his hand behind his right, healthy ear and turned it toward her.
Now that they were alone she must try to make Robert confide in her about the ailment he suffered from.
“There was blood on the pillow from your bad ear last night.”
“It’s been out of use for a long time. But it’s a good sign when it bleeds — then the ache stops.”
“They were horrible spots.”
“I’m sorry, Kristina, if I ruined your pillow slip.”
“How silly of you! I wasn’t thinking of the slip. But I do feel sorry for you if it aches in the night.”
And Kristina shuddered to think that when his ear bled it no longer hurt.
She told him that Karl Oskar and she were really worried about him. They were afraid he had picked up some dangerous sickness in the goldfields. Why didn’t he tell her what was the matter with him? He must try to find some remedy.
He replied in a low voice that it was very kind of her, but she mustn’t worry about him. As soon as the buzzing and the noise stopped in his ear he would be entirely well again. Sometimes, when the ear was quiet, he immediately felt better.
“There is nothing the matter with me, in any way.”
Robert sounded full of confidence that he would soon be well again. He was lying on his back in the grass, holding the History of Nature above his face. He turned back to the chapter “About Gold and Gold Coins”:
“Are you listening to me, Kristina? Did you hear that gold is nineteen times heavier than water?”
“I heard you.”
Now he lowered his voice as if he wanted to confide a great secret to her and was afraid someone might be listening.
“But it’s only dead weight. Do you understand? The weight of the yellow gold is dead. . dead. . dead. .!”
From the gable room Harald was calling his mother. The boy had heard her come, so she rose from the stoop and walked away from Robert. But she turned twice and looked at him where he lay in the grass, holding his old, torn book above his face.
His explanation of the chapter in The History of Nature had filled her with inexplicable anxiety and sadness.
XXI. THE FOURTH NIGHT — ROBERT’S EAR SPEAKS
You push your head so deep into the pillow tonight. Do you think you can shut me up in that way? Do you think you can choke me, get rid of me forever, by pushing me down into the pillow?
No, you should know better after all the years we have been together. You know it doesn’t help to press me into the pillow. You might soften my sounds a little, perhaps. But only very little. Yes, you have tried to silence me in every way. What all haven’t you figured out during the many nights we have been together! You’ve turned and twisted and tried various positions doing what you thought would help. Sometimes you’ve behaved like a fool — like the time you poured a spoonful of whiskey into me! I choked a little, but not for long. You wanted to get me drunk! Ha, ha, ha!
I heard what you told Kristina today: your ache eases when I bleed a little. I know it. Sometimes I feel sorry for you and show it that way. Kristina has changed the spotted slip and now you have a new, clean one to rest on.
But these blood spots of mine do not tell anything to Karl Oskar and Kristina about the things that happened to you on the California Trail. You can trust my silence. But sometimes I think you’re going to tell on yourself — at least when you are alone with Kristina. Both yesterday and today you almost told her — shouldn’t you be more careful? Your ailing ear isn’t so bad that it can’t hear when you’re about to spill over.
I don’t have much to tell about your separation from Arvid at the water hole, because you didn’t understand at the time that your parting was final. But I’ve all the sounds stored away. You’re familiar with my good memory. But much of this you’re not interested in any more. You lost something that time — you know best what it was. That’s why so much from those days is of no importance to you any longer. Then why should I keep repeating it?
But that time when you were lying on your back in the withered prairie grass I heard a well-known voice calling the mules. It was the mule owner. And with him came succor — water, which gave you back your life.
— 1—
“My poor boy! I take care of you! You get well. .!”
Mario Vallejos had gone out to look for the lost ones from his caravan — two animals and two muleteers. Since none of his provisions were missing, he did not believe the two boys had fled with the mules, and after two days of searching he came across Robert, far gone from exposure and lack of water and food. The Mexican questioned him and what he had assumed was confirmed. He never found his two lost mules.
Robert was well taken care of by his master, who assured him he would soon be well again. Within a few days he had recuperated sufficiently so that they could continue their journey. He still felt weak and was bothered by dizziness but now he need no longer walk; he rode on one of the good Mexican mules instead. The mule lent him its spindly legs and small, hardened hooves, which moved quickly through the whirling sand. His own feet were covered with blood blisters and worn to the bare flesh.
The caravan was smaller now — only two men and six animals. One man and two mules had been left behind along the road.
The caravan now covered a shorter distance each day than before, since six animals had to carry the burdens previously distributed on eight. The pack mules had thinned down during the trip from St. Louis. Their hindquarters grew more sinewy each day. Their owner claimed that on the California Trail mules became so skinny that two animals were required to throw a shadow.
Robert wondered what happened to people before they reached California. How many gold seekers would be needed to throw a single shadow?
For more than a year now Robert had been on his journey toward the Land of Gold, and as yet he was only at the beginning of the road. But in the grave Arvid had dug for himself, and where he remained, Robert too had left something of himself; when he resumed his journey he felt empty inside. Life had returned to his thirst-plagued body but he felt like a pod without a kernel. He rode the mule and watched his accompanying shadow on the ground. He still had enough life in him to supply a shadow, something visible that moved along with him. But could he catch it with his hands? Was there any substance to this shape that slid along on the ground beside the mule? What he saw was something dark and thin and empty. And this nebulous, vague something was from now on to be his comrade and companion on the California journey.