Heidi (31 page)

Peter, cross as a bear, grumbled some reply, and lifted his
stick to give Greenfinch a blow for no reason in particular, but
Greenfinch saw the movement, and with a leap over Snowflake's
back she got out of the way, and the stick only hit the air.

Clara and Heidi got into their two fine beds that night full of
delightful anticipation of the morrow; they were so full of
their plans that they agreed to keep awake all night and talk
over them until they might venture to get up. But their heads had
no sooner touched their soft pillows than the conversation
suddenly ceased, and Clara fell into a dream of an immense field,
which looked the color of the sky, so thickly inlaid was it with
blue bell-shaped flowers; and Heidi heard the great bird of prey
calling to her from the heights above, "Come! come! come!"

Uncle went out early the next morning to see what kind of a day
it was going to be. There was a reddish gold light over the
higher peaks; a light breeze springing up and the branches of the
fir trees moved gently to and fro the sun was on its way.

The old man stood and watched the green slopes under the higher
peaks gradually growing brighter with the coming day and the dark
shadows lifting from the valley, until at first a rosy light
filled its hollows, and then the morning gold flooded every
height and depth—the sun had risen.

Uncle wheeled the chair out of the shed ready for the coming
journey, and then went in to call the children and tell them what
a lovely sunrise it was.

Peter came up at this moment. The goats did not gather round him
so trustfully as usual, but seemed to avoid him timidly, for
Peter had reached a high pitch of anger and bitterness, and was
laying about him with his stick very unnecessarily, and where it
fell the blow was no light one. For weeks now he had not had
Heidi all to himself as formerly. When he came up in the morning
the invalid child was always already in her chair and Heidi fully
occupied with her. And it was the same thing over again when he
came down in the evening. She had not come out with the goats
once this summer, and now to-day she was only coming in company
with her friend and the chair, and would stick by the latter's
side the whole time. It was the thought of this which was making
him particularly cross this morning. There stood the chair on its
high wheels; Peter seemed to see something proud and disdainful
about it, and he glared at it as at an enemy that had done him
harm and was likely to do him more still to-day. He glanced
round—there was no sound anywhere, no one to see him. He sprang
forward like a wild creature, caught hold of it, and gave it a
violent and angry push in the direction of the slope. The chair
rolled swiftly forward and in another minute had disappeared.

Peter now sped up the mountain as if on wings, not pausing till
he was well in shelter of a large blackberry bush, for he had no
wish to be seen by Uncle. But he was anxious to see what had
become of the chair, and his bush was well placed for that.
Himself hidden, he could watch what happened below and see what
Uncle did without being discovered himself. So he looked, and
there he saw his enemy running faster and faster down hill, then
it turned head over heels several times, and finally, after one
great bound, rolled over and over to its complete destruction.
The pieces flew in every direction—feet, arms, and torn
fragments of the padded seat and bolster—and Peter experienced a
feeling of such unbounded delight at the sight that he leapt in
the air, laughing aloud and stamping for joy; then he took a run
round, jumping over bushes on the way, only to return to the same
spot and fall into fresh fits of laughter. He was beside himself
with satisfaction, for he could see only good results for himself
in this disaster to his enemy. Now Heidi's friend would be
obliged to go away, for she would have no means of going about,
and when Heidi was alone again she would come out with him as in
the old days, and everything would go on in the proper way again.
But Peter did not consider, or did not know, that when we do a
wrong thing trouble is sure to follow.

Heidi now came running out of the hut and round to the shed.
Grandfather was behind with Clara in his arms. The shed stood
wide open, the two loose planks having been taken down, and it
was quite light inside. Heidi looked into every corner and ran
from one end to the other, and then stood still wondering what
could have happened to the chair. Grandfather now came up.

"How is this, have you wheeled the chair away, Heidi?"

"I have been looking everywhere for it, grandfather; you said it
was standing ready outside," and she again searched each corner
of the shed with her eyes.

At that moment the wind, which had risen suddenly, blew open the
shed door and sent it banging back against the wall.

"It must have been the wind, grandfather," exclaimed Heidi, and
her eyes grew anxious at this sudden discovery. "Oh! if it has
blown the chair all the way down to Dorfli we shall not get it
back in time, and shall not be able to go."

"If it has rolled as far as that it will never come back, for it
is in a hundred pieces by now," said the grandfather, going
round the corner and looking down. "But it's a curious thing to
have happened!" he added as he thought over the matter, for the
chair would have had to turn a corner before starting down hill.

"Oh, I am sorry," lamented Clara, "for we shall not be able to
go to-day, or perhaps any other day. I shall have to go home, I
suppose, if I have no chair. Oh, I am so sorry, I am so sorry!"

But Heidi looked towards her grandfather with her usual
expression of confidence.

"Grandfather, you will be able to do something, won't you, so
that it need not be as Clara says, and so that she is not
obliged to go home?"

"Well, for the present we will go up the mountain as we had
arranged, and then later on we will see what can be done," he
answered, much to the children's delight.

He went indoors, fetched out a pile of shawls, and laying them
on the sunniest spot he could find set Clara down upon them. Then
he fetched the children's morning milk and had out his two goats.

"Why is Peter not here yet?" thought Uncle to himself, for
Peter's whistle had not been sounded that morning. The
grandfather now took Clara up on one arm, and the shawls on the
other.

"Now then we will start," he said; "the goats can come with us."

Heidi was pleased at this and walked on after her grandfather
with an arm over either of the goats' necks, and the animals were
so overjoyed to have her again that they nearly squeezed her flat
between them out of sheer affection. When they reached the spot
where the goats usually pastured they were surprised to find them
already feeding there, climbing about the rocks, and Peter with
them, lying his full length on the ground.

"I'll teach you another time to go by like that, you lazy
rascal! What do you mean by it?" Uncle called to him.

Peter, recognising the voice, jumped up like a shot. "No one was
up," he answered.

"Have you seen anything of the chair?" asked the grandfather.

"Of what chair?" called Peter back in answer in a morose tone of
voice.

Uncle said no more. He spread the shawls on the sunny slope, and
setting Clara upon them asked if she was comfortable.

"As comfortable as in my chair," she said, thanking him, "and
this seems the most beautiful spot. O Heidi, it is lovely, it is
lovely!" she cried, looking round her with delight.

The grandfather prepared to leave them. They would now be safe
and happy together, he said, and when it was time for dinner
Heidi was to go and fetch the bag from the shady hollow where he
had put it; Peter was to bring them as much milk as they wanted,
but Heidi was to see that it was Little Swan's milk. He would
come and fetch them towards evening; he must now be off to see
after the chair and ascertain what had become of it.

The sky was dark blue, and not a single cloud was to be seen
from one horizon to the other. The great snow-field overhead
sparkled as if set with thousands and thousands of gold and
silver stars. The two grey mountains peaks lifted their lofty
heads against the sky and looked solemnly down upon the valley as
of old; the great bird was poised aloft in the clear blue air,
and the mountain wind came over the heights and blew refreshingly
around the children as they sat on the sunlit slope. It was all
indescribably enjoyable to Clara and Heidi. Now and again a
young goat came and lay down beside them; Snowflake came
oftenest, putting her little head down near Heidi, and only
moving because another goat came and drove her away. Clara had
learned to know them all so well that she never mistook one for
the other now, for each had an expression and ways of its own.
And the goats had also grown familiar with Clara and would rub
their heads against her shoulder, which was always a sign of
acquaintanceship and goodwill.

Some hours went by, and Heidi began to think that she might just
go over to the spot where all the flowers grew to see if they
were fully blown and looking as lovely as the year before. Clara
could not go until grandfather came back that evening, when the
flowers probably would be already closed. The longing to go
became stronger and stronger, till she felt she could not resist
it.

"Would you think me unkind, Clara," she said rather
hesitatingly, "if I left you for a few minutes? I should run
there and back very quickly. I want so to see how the flowers are
looking—but wait—" for an idea had come into Heidi's head. She
ran and picked a bunch or two of green leaves, and then took hold
of Snowflake and led her up to Clara.

"There, now you will not be alone," said Heidi, giving the goat
a little push to show her she was to lie down near Clara, which
the animal quite understood. Heidi threw the leaves into Clara's
lap, and the latter told her friend to go at once to look at the
flowers as she was quite happy to be left with the goat; she
liked this new experience. Heidi ran off, and Clara began to
hold out the leaves one by one to Snowflake, who snoozled up to
her new friend in a confiding manner and slowly ate the leaves
from her hand. It was easy to see that Snowflake enjoyed this
peaceful and sheltered way of feeding, for when with the other
goats she had much persecution to endure from the larger and
stronger ones of the flock. And Clara found a strange new
pleasure in sitting all alone like this on the mountain side, her
only companion a little goat that looked to her for protection.
She suddenly felt a great desire to be her own mistress and to be
able to help others, instead of herself being always dependent as
she was now. Many thoughts, unknown to her before, came crowding
into her mind, and a longing to go on living in the sunshine, and
to be doing something that would bring happiness to another, as
now she was helping to make the goat happy. An unaccustomed
feeling of joy took possession of her, as if everything she had
ever known or felt became all at once more beautiful, and she
seemed to see all things in a new light, and so strong was the
sense of this new beauty and happiness that she threw her arms
round the little goat's neck, and exclaimed, "O Snowflake, how
delightful it is up here! if only I could stay on for ever with
you beside me!"

Heidi had meanwhile reached her field of flowers, and as she
caught sight of it she uttered a cry of joy. The whole ground in
front of her was a mass of shimmering gold, where the cistus
flowers spread their yellow blossoms. Above them waved whole
bushes of the deep blue bell-flowers; while the fragrance that
arose from the whole sunlit expanse was as if the rarest balsam
had been flung over it. The scent, however, came from the small
brown flowers, the little round heads of which rose modestly
here and there among the yellow blossoms. Heidi stood and gazed
and drew in the delicious air. Suddenly she turned round and
reached Clara's side out of breath with running and excitement.
"Oh, you must come," she called out as soon as she came in sight,
"it is more beautiful than you can imagine, and perhaps this
evening it may not be so lovely. I believe I could carry you,
don't you think I could?" Clara looked at her and shook her head.
"Why, Heidi, what can you be thinking of! you are smaller than I
am. Oh, if only I could walk!"

Heidi looked round as if in search of something, some new idea
had evidently come into her head. Peter was sitting up above
looking down on the two children. He had been sitting and
staring before him in the same way for hours, as if he could not
make out what he saw. He had destroyed the chair so that the
friend might not be able to move anywhere and that her visit
might come to an end, and then a little while after she had
appeared right up here under his very nose with Heidi beside her.
He thought his eyes must deceive him, and yet there she was and
no mistake about it.

Heidi now looked up to where he was sitting and called out in a
peremptory voice, "Peter, come down here!"

"I don't wish to come," he called in reply.

"But you are to, you must; I cannot do it alone, and you must
come here and help me; make haste and come down," she called
again in an urgent voice.

"I shall do nothing of the kind," was the answer.

Heidi ran some way up the slope towards him, and then pausing
called again, her eyes ablaze with anger, "If you don't come at
once, Peter, I will do something to you that you won't like; I
mean what I say."

Peter felt an inward throe at these words, and a great fear
seized him. He had done something wicked which he wanted no one
to know about, and so far he had thought himself safe. But now
Heidi spoke exactly as if she knew everything, and whatever she
did know she would tell her grandfather, and there was no one he
feared so much as this latter person. Supposing he were to
suspect what had happened about the chair! Peter's anguish of
mind grew more acute. He stood up and went down to where Heidi
was awaiting him.