OUT WITH THE GOATS
HEIDI was awakened early the next morning by a loud whistle; the sun was shining through the round window and falling in golden rays on her bed and on the large heap of hay, and as she opened her eyes everything in the loft seemed gleaming with gold. She looked around her in astonishment and could not imagine for a while where she was. But her grandfather’s deep voice was now heard outside, and then Heidi began to recall all that had happened: how she had come away from her former home and was now on the mountain with her grandfather instead of with old Ursula. The latter was nearly stone deaf and always felt cold, so that she sat all day either by the hearth in the kitchen or by the sitting-room stove, and Heidi had been obliged to stay close to her, for the old woman was so deaf that she could not tell where the child was if out of her sight. And Heidi, shut up within the four walls, had often longed to be out of doors. So she felt very happy this morning as she woke up in her new home and remembered all the many new things that she had seen the day before and which she would see again that day, and above all she thought with delight of the two dear goats. Heidi jumped quickly out of bed and a very few minutes sufficed her to put on the clothes which she had taken off the night before, for there were not many of them. Then she climbed down the ladder and ran outside the hut. There stood Peter already with his flock of goats, and the grandfather was just bringing his two out of the shed to join the others. Heidi ran forward to wish good-morning to him and the goats.
“Do you want to go with them on to the mountain?” asked her grandfather. Nothing could have pleased Heidi better, and she jumped for joy in answer.
“But you must first wash and make yourself tidy. The sun that shines so brightly overhead will else laugh at you for being dirty; see, I have put everything ready for you,” and her grandfather pointed as he spoke to a large tub full of water, which stood in the sun before the door. Heidi ran to it and began splashing and rubbing, till she quite glistened with cleanliness. The grandfather meanwhile went inside the hut, calling to Peter to follow him and bring in his wallet. Peter obeyed with astonishment, and laid down the little bag which held his meagre dinner.
“Open it,” said the old man, and inside it he put a large piece of bread and an equally large piece of cheese, which made Peter open his eyes, for each was twice the size of the two portions which he had for his own dinner.
“There, now there is only the little bowl to add,” continued the grandfather, “for the child cannot drink her milk as you do from the goat; she is not accustomed to that. You must milk two bowlfuls for her when she has her dinner, for she is going with you and will remain with you till you return this evening; but take care she does not fall over any of the rocks, do you hear?”
Heidi now came running in. “Will the sun laugh at me now, grandfather?” she asked anxiously. Her grandfather had left a coarse towel hanging up for her near the tub, and with this she had so thoroughly scrubbed her face, arms, and neck, for fear of the sun, that as she stood there she was as red all over as a lobster. He gave a little laugh.
“No, there is nothing for him to laugh at now,” he assured her. “But I tell you what—when you come home this evening, you will have to get right into the tub, like a fish, for if you run about like the goats you will get your feet dirty. Now you can be off.”
She started joyfully for the mountain. During the night the wind had blown away all the clouds; the dark blue sky was spreading overhead, and in its midst was the bright sun shining down on the green slopes of the mountain, where the flowers opened their little blue and yellow cups, and looked up to him smiling. Heidi went running hither and thither and shouting with delight, for here were whole patches of delicate red primroses, and there the blue gleam of the lovely gentian, while above them all laughed and nodded the tender-leaved golden cistus. Enchanted with all this waving field of brightly colored flowers, Heidi forgot even Peter and the goats. She ran on in front and then off to the side, tempted first one way and then the other, as she caught sight of some bright spot of glowing red or yellow. And all the while she was plucking whole handfuls of the flowers which she put into her little apron, for she wanted to take them all home and stick them in the hay, so that she might make her bedroom look just like the meadows outside. Peter had therefore to be on the alert, and his round eyes, which did not move very quickly, had more work than they could well manage, for the goats were as lively as Heidi; they ran in all directions, and Peter had to follow whistling and calling and swinging his stick to get all the runaways together again.
“Where have you got to now, Heidi?” he called out somewhat crossly.
“Here,” called back a voice from somewhere. Peter could see no one, for Heidi was seated on the ground at the foot of a small hill thickly overgrown with sweet smelling prunella; the whole air seemed filled with its fragrance, and Heidi thought she had never smelt anything so delicious. She sat surrounded by the flowers, drawing in deep breaths of the scented air.
“Come along here!” called Peter again. “You are not to fall over the rocks, your grandfather gave orders that you were not to do so.”
“Where are the rocks?” asked Heidi, answering him back. But she did not move from her seat, for the scent of the flowers seemed sweeter to her with every breath of wind that wafted it towards her.
“Up above, right up above. We have a long way to go yet, so come along! And on the topmost peak of all the old bird of prey sits and croaks.”
That did it. Heidi immediately sprang to her feet and ran up to Peter with her apron full of flowers.
“You have got enough now,” said the boy as they began climbing up again together. “You will stay here forever if you go on picking, and if you gather all the flowers now there will be none for to-morrow.”
This last argument seemed a convincing one to Heidi, and moreover her apron was already so full that there was hardly room for another flower, and it would never do to leave nothing to pick for another day. So she now kept with Peter, and the goats also became more orderly in their behavior, for they were beginning to smell the plants they loved that grew on the higher slopes and clambered up now without pause in their anxiety to reach them. The spot where Peter generally halted for his goats to pasture and where he took up his quarters for the day lay at the foot of the high rocks, which were covered for some distance up by bushes and fir trees, beyond which rose their bare and rugged summits. On one side of the mountain the rock was split into deep clefts, and the grandfather had reason to warn Peter of danger. Having climbed as far as the halting-place, Peter unslung his wallet and put it carefully in a little hollow of the ground, for he knew what the wind was like up there and did not want to see his precious belongings sent rolling down the mountain by a sudden gust. Then he threw himself at full length on the warm ground, for he was tired after all his exertions.
Heidi meanwhile had unfastened her apron and rolling it carefully round the flowers laid it beside Peter’s wallet inside the hollow; she then sat down beside his outstretched figure and looked about her. The valley lay far below bathed in the morning sun. In front of her rose a broad snow field, high against the dark blue sky, while to the left was a huge pile of rocks on either side of which a bare lofty peak, that seemed to pierce the blue, looked frowningly down upon her. The child sat without moving, her eyes taking in the whole scene, and all around was a great stillness, only broken by soft, light puffs of wind that swayed the light bells of the blue flowers, and the shining gold heads of the cistus, and set them nodding merrily on their slender stems. Peter had fallen asleep after his fatigue and the goats were climbing about among the bushes overhead. Heidi had never felt so happy in her life before. She drank in the golden sunlight, the fresh air, the sweet smell of the flowers, and wished for nothing better than to remain there forever. So the time went on, while to Heidi, who had so often looked up from the valley at the mountains above, these seemed now to have faces, and to be looking down at her like old friends. Suddenly she heard a loud harsh cry overhead and lifting her eyes she saw a bird, larger than any she had ever seen before, with great, spreading wings, wheeling round and round in wide circles, and uttering a piercing, croaking kind of sound above her.
“Peter, Peter, wake up!” called out Heidi. “See, the great bird is there—look, look!”
Peter got up on hearing her call, and together they sat and watched the bird, which rose higher and higher in the blue air till it disappeared behind the gravy mountain-tops.
“Where has it gone to?” asked Heidi, who had followed the bird’s movements with intense interest.
“Home to its nest,” said Peter.
“Is his home right up there? Oh, how nice to be up so high! why does he make that noise?”
“Because he can’t help it,” explained Peter.
“Let us climb up there and see where his nest is,” proposed Heidi.
“Oh! oh! oh!” exclaimed Peter, his disapproval of Heidi’s suggestion becoming more marked with each ejaculation, “why even the goats cannot climb as high as that, besides, didn’t Uncle say that you were not to fall over the rocks?”
Peter now began suddenly whistling and calling in such a loud manner that Heidi could not think what was happening; but the goats evidently understood his voice, for one after the other they came springing down the rocks until they were all assembled on the green plateau, some continuing to nibble at the juicy stems, others skipping about here and there or pushing at each other with their horns for pastime.
Heidi jumped up and ran in and out among then, for it was new to her to see the goats playing together like this and her delight was beyond words as she joined in their frolics; she made personal acquaintance with them all in turn, for they were like separate individuals to her, each single goat having a particular way of behavior of its own. Meanwhile Peter had taken the wallet out of the hollow and placed the pieces of bread and cheese on the ground in the shape of a square, the larger two on Heidi’s side and the smaller on his own, for he knew exactly which were hers and which his. Then he took the little bowl and milked some delicious fresh milk into it from the white goat, and afterwards set the bowl in the middle of the square. Now he called Heidi to come, but she wanted more calling than the goats, for the child was so excited and amused at the capers and lively games of her new playfellows that she saw and heard nothing else. But Peter knew how to make himself heard, for he shouted till the very rocks above echoed his voice, and at last Heidi appeared, and when she saw the inviting repast spread out upon the ground she went skipping round it for joy.
“Leave off jumping about, it is time for dinner,” said Peter; “sit down now and begin.”
Heidi sat down. “Is the milk for me?” she asked, giving another look of delight at the beautifully arranged square with the bowl as a chief ornament in the centre.
“Yes,” replied Peter, “and the two large pieces of bread and cheese are yours also, and when you have drunk up that milk, you are to have another bowlful from the white goat, and then it will be my turn.”
“And which do you get your milk from?” inquired Heidi.
“From my own goat, the piebald one. But go on now with your dinner,” said Peter, again reminding her it was time to eat. Heidi now took up the bowl and drank her milk, and as soon as she had put it down empty Peter rose and filled it again for her. Then she broke off a piece of her bread and held out the remainder, which was still larger than Peter’s own piece, together with the whole big slice of cheese, to her companion, saying, “You can have that, I have plenty.”
Peter looked at Heidi, unable to speak for astonishment, for never in all his life could he have said and done like that with anything he had. He hesitated a moment, for he could not believe that Heidi was in earnest; but the latter kept on holding out the bread and cheese, and as Peter still did not take it, she laid it down on his knees. He saw then that she really meant it; he seized the food, nodded his thanks and acceptance of her present, and then made a more splendid meal than he had known ever since he was a goatherd. Heidi the while still continued to watch the goats. “Tell me all their names,” she said.
“You can have that, I have plenty.” (Page 52)
Peter knew these by heart, for having very little else to carry in his head he had no difficulty in remembering them. So he began, telling Heidi the name of each goat in turn as he pointed it out to her. Heidi listened with great attention, and it was not long before she could herself distinguish the goats from one another and could call each by name, for every goat had its own peculiarities which could not easily be mistaken; only one had to watch them closely, and this Heidi did. There was the great Turk with his big horns, who was always wanting to butt the others, so that most of them ran away when they saw him coming and would have nothing to do with their rough companion. Only Greenfinch, the slender, nimble little goat, was brave enough to face him, and would make a rush at him, three or four times in succession, with such agility and dexterity that the great Turk often stood still quite astounded, not venturing to attack her again, for Greenfinch was fronting him, prepared for more warlike action, and her horns were sharp. Then there was little White Snowflake, who bleated in such a plaintive and beseeching manner that Heidi already had several times run to it and taken its head in her hands to comfort it. Just at this moment the pleading young cry was heard again, and Heidi jumped up running and, putting her arms round the little creature’s neck, asked in a sympathetic voice, “What is it, little Snowflake? Why do you call like that as if in trouble?” The goat pressed closer to Heidi in a confiding way and left off bleating. Peter called out from where he was sitting—for he had not yet got to the end of his bread and cheese, “She cries like that because the old goat is not with her; she was sold at Mayenfeld the day before yesterday, and so will not come up the mountain any more.”
“Who is the old goat?” called Heidi back.
“Why, her mother, of course,” was the answer.
“Where is the grandmother?” called Heidi again.
“She has none.”
“And the grandfather?”
“She has none.”
“Oh, you poor little Snowflake!” exclaimed Heidi, clasping the animal gently to her, “but do not cry like that any more; see now, I shall come up here with you every day, so that you will not be alone any more, and if you want anything you have only to come to me.”
The young animal rubbed its head contentedly against Heidi’s shoulder, and no longer gave such plaintive bleats. Peter now having finished his meal joined Heidi and the goats, Heidi having by this time found out a great many things about these. She had decided that by far the handsomest and best-behaved of the goats were undoubtedly the two belonging to her grandfather; they carried themselves with a certain air of distinction and generally went their own way, and as to the great Turk, they treated him with indifference and contempt.
The goats were now beginning to climb the rocks again, each seeking for the plants it liked in its own fashion, some jumping over everything they met till they found what they wanted, others going more carefully and cropping all the nice leaves by the way, the Turk still now and then giving the others a poke with his horns. Little Swan and Little Bear clambered lightly up and never failed to find the best bushes, and then they would stand gracefully poised on their pretty legs, delicately nibbling at the leaves. Heidi stood with her hands behind her back, carefully noting all they did.
“Peter,” she said to the boy who had again thrown himself down on the ground, “the prettiest of all the goats are Little Swan and Little Bear.”
“Yes, I know they are,” was the answer. “Alm-Uncle brushes them down and washes them and gives them salt, and he has the nicest shed for them.”
All of a sudden Peter leaped to his feet and ran hastily after the goats. Heidi followed him as fast as she could, for she was too eager to know what had happened to stay behind. Peter dashed through the middle of the flock towards that side of the mountain where the rocks fell perpendicularly to a great depth below, and where any thoughtless goat, if it went too near, might fall over and break all its legs. He had caught sight of the inquisitive Greenfinch taking leaps in that direction, and he was only just in time, for the animal had already sprung to the edge of the abyss. All Peter could do was to throw himself down and seize one of her hind legs. Greenfinch, thus taken by surprise, began bleating furiously, angry at being held so fast and prevented from continuing her voyage of discovery. She struggled to get loose, and endeavored so obstinately to leap forward that Peter shouted to Heidi to come and help him, for he could not get up and was afraid of pulling out the goat’s leg altogether.
Heidi had already run up and she saw at once the danger both Peter and the animal were in. She quickly gathered a bunch of sweet-smelling leaves, and then, holding them under Greenfinch’s nose, said coaxingly, “Come, come, Greenfinch, you must not be naughty! Look, you might fall down there and break your leg, and that would give you dreadful pain!”
The young animal turned quickly, and began contentedly eating the leaves out of Heidi’s hand. Meanwhile Peter got on to his feet again and took hold of Greenfinch by the band round her neck from which her bell was hung, and Heidi taking hold of her in the same way on the other side, they led the wanderer back to the rest of the flock that had remained peacefully feeding. Peter, now he had his goat in safety, lifted his stick in order to give her a good beating as punishment, and Greenfinch seeing what was coming shrank back in fear. But Heidi cried out, “No, no, Peter, you must not strike her; see how frightened she is!”
“She deserves it,” growled Peter, and again lifted his stick. Then Heidi flung herself against him and cried indignantly, “You have no right to touch her, it will hurt her, let her alone!”
Peter looked with surprise at the commanding little figure, whose dark eyes were flashing, and reluctantly he let his stick drop. “Well, I will let her off if you will give me some more of your cheese to-morrow,” he said, for he was determined to have something to make up to him for his fright.
“You shall have it all, to-morrow and every day; I do not want it,” replied Heidi, giving ready consent to his demand. “And I will give you bread as well, a large piece like you had to-day; but then you must promise never to beat Greenfinch, or Snowflake, or any of the goats.”
“All right,” said Peter, “I don’t care,” which meant that he would agree to the bargain. He now let go of Greenfinch, who joyfully sprang to join her companions.
And thus imperceptibly the day had crept on to its close, and now the sun was on the point of sinking out of sight behind the high mountains. Heidi was again sitting on the ground, silently gazing at the blue bell-shaped flowers as they glistened in the evening sun, for a golden light lay on the grass and flowers, and the rocks above were beginning to shine and glow. All at once she sprang to her feet, “Peter! Peter! everything is on fire! All the rocks are burning, and the great snow mountain and the sky! O look, look! the high rock up there is red with flame! O the beautiful, fiery snow! Stand up, Peter! See, the fire has reached the great bird’s nest! look at the rocks! look at the fir trees! Everything, everything is on fire!”
“It is always like that,” said Peter composedly, continuing to peel his stick; “but it is not really fire.”
“What is it then?” cried Heidi, as she ran backwards and forwards to look first one side and then the other, for she felt she could not have enough of such a beautiful sight. “What is it, Peter, what is it?” she repeated.
“It gets like that of itself,” explained Peter.
“Look, look!” cried Heidi in fresh excitement, “now they have turned all rose color! Look at that one covered with snow, and that with the high, pointed rocks! What do you call them?”
“Mountains have not any names,” he answered.
“O how beautiful! look at the crimson snow! And up there on the rocks there are ever so many roses! Oh! now they are turning grey! Oh! oh! now all the color has died away! it’s all gone, Peter.” And Heidi sat down on the ground looking as full of distress as if everything had really come to an end.
“It will come again to-morrow,” said Peter. “Get up, we must go home now.” He whistled to his goats and together they all started on their homeward way.
“Is it like that every day, shall we see it every day when we bring the goats up here?” asked Heidi, as she clambered down the mountain at Peter’s side; she waited eagerly for his answer, hoping that he would tell her it was so.
“It is like that most days,” he replied.
“But will it be like that to-morrow for certain?” Heidi persisted.
“Yes, yes, to-morrow for certain,” Peter assured her in answer.
Heidi now felt quite happy again, and her little brain was so full of new impressions and new thoughts that she did not speak any more until they had reached the hut. The grandfather was sitting under the fir trees, where he had also put up a seat, waiting as usual for his goats which returned down the mountain on this side.
Heidi ran up to him, followed by the white and brown goats, for they knew their own master and stall. Peter called out after her, “Come with me again to-morrow! Good-night!” For he was anxious for more than one reason that Heidi should go with him the next day.
Heidi ran back quickly and gave Peter her hand, promising to go with him, and then making her way through the goats she once more clasped Snowflake round the neck, saying in a gentle soothing voice, “Sleep well, Snowflake, and remember that I shall be with you again to-morrow, so you must not bleat so sadly any more.” Snowflake gave her a friendly and grateful look, and then went leaping joyfully after the other goats.
Heidi returned to the fir trees. “O grandfather,” she cried, even before she had come up to him, “it was so beautiful. The fire, and the roses on the rocks, and the blue and yellow flowers, and look what I have brought you!” And opening the apron that held her flowers she shook them all out at her grandfather’s feet. But the poor flowers, how changed they were! Heidi hardly knew them again. They looked like dry bits of hay—not a single little flower cup stood open. “O grandfather, what is the matter with them?” exclaimed Heidi in shocked surprise, “they were not like that this morning, why do they look so now?”
“They like to stand out there in the sun and not to be shut up in an apron,” said her grandfather.
“Then I will never gather any more. But, grandfather, why did the great bird go on croaking so?” she continued in an eager tone of inquiry.
“Go along now and get into your bath while I go and get some milk; when we are together at supper I will tell you all about it.”
Heidi obeyed, and when later she was sitting on her high stool before her milk bowl with her grandfather beside her, she repeated her question, “Why does the great bird go on croaking and screaming down at us, grandfather?”
“He is mocking at the people who live down below in the villages, because they all go huddling and gossiping together, and encourage one another in evil talking and deeds. He calls out, ‘If you would separate and each go your own way and come up here and live on a height as I do, it would be better for you!’” There was almost a wildness in the old man’s voice as he spoke, so that Heidi seemed to hear the croaking of the bird again even more distinctly.
“Why haven’t the mountains any names?” Heidi went on.
“They have names,” answered her grandfather, “and if you can describe one of them to me that I know I will tell you what it is called.”
Heidi then described to him the rocky mountain with the two high peaks so exactly that the grandfather was delighted. “Just so, I know it,” and he told her its name. “Did you see any other?”
Then Heidi told him of the mountain with the great snow-field, and how it had been on fire, and had turned rosy-red and then all of a sudden had grown quite pale again and all the color had disappeared.
“I know that one too,” he said, giving her its name. “So you enjoyed being out with the goats?”
Then Heidi went on to give him an account of the whole day, and of how delightful it had all been, and particularly described the fire that had burst out everywhere in the evening. And then nothing would do but her grandfather must tell how it came, for Peter knew nothing about it.
The grandfather explained to her that it was the sun that did it. “When he says good-night to the mountains he throws his most beautiful colors over them, so that they may not forget him before he comes again the next day.”
Heidi was delighted with this explanation, and could hardly bear to wait for another day to come that she might once more climb up with the goats and see how the sun bid good-night to the mountains. But she had to go to bed first, and all night she slept soundly on her bed of hay, dreaming of nothing but of shining mountains with red roses all over them, among which happy little Snowflake went leaping in and out.