CHAPTER 23
[Illustration]
That was a day of gayety and laughter for all of them. When Turgen left toward evening, Aksa who was more talkative and more inquisitive than her brother asked her mother,
“Now that Turgen belongs to us, will we go to live in his yurta?”
“No, daughter,” Marfa replied. “We will live here, for he has not enough room for us, and up in the mountains there is no food for a cow. In the summer we can visit him.”
This did not entirely please the children, who hoped that their new life would be full of change and excitement. To live in the mountains, which they did not know except from the valley, would be wonderful. But grown-ups could not be expected to understand.
“I want to look at the sky from the top of a mountain,” Aksa declared. “Turgen says that good children can see angels in the sky. But I would be happy just to see their wings.”
Tim spoke up firmly: “And I want to see Lad and the other rams.”
“So do I,” Aksa added quickly, not to be left out.
Marfa smiled. “Turgen is coming again early tomorrow morning, and if you ask him he might take you home with him for a visit. If the weather is warm you can even stay over night.”
“Oh, Mama!” the children exclaimed. “Will you ask him, too?”
“Of course.”
That night the children prayed that the next day would be warm and Turgen would accept them as his guests, so it did not surprise them upon wakening to find the day bright and their friend bending over them.
“Dress yourselves, children,” Turgen said, smiling, “I am very glad to take you with me if you think you can stand the walk uphill.”
“Oh, we can. We are good walkers,” they answered him.
Soon they were ready for what was their first adventure away from home. Marfa gave them milk to take along, with barley cakes and dried fish.
A twisted path led up the mountain. Turgen walked in front, with Aksa behind him, and Tim bringing up the rear. The path followed a talkative little brook and all around was heavy shrubbery with tall fir trees, larches, and graceful white birches for background. Their progress was slow because the children must stop every few steps to pick and eat some of the black and red currants and bird-cherry berries so tasty this time of year.
Birds overhead twittered so noisily that Aksa asked Turgen seriously, “What do you think? Are they rejoicing because we are here?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he answered just as seriously. “It is well known that birds like good children.”
Everything amazed the children. The familiar brook was brighter, swifter, more mysterious in this higher ground. The woods held fascinations and terrors they could only imagine. Never having been far away from their yurta in the valley, they were--thanks to Turgen--entering a brand-new world. If they stopped frequently, it was not only because of the berries or because they were tired, but because they needed time to take in all the wonders. From up here the valley was a different place than they had known--like a child’s plaything laid out in squares of green and brown, with the brook wending through it, a silver thread.
“How close it is!” they marveled. “And we thought we had walked a long way. Close and small.”
“Yes,” Turgen said, as they strained their eyes to find their yurta at the bend of the river, “we live only four miles apart. From a mountain everything appears clearer.”
The path grew steeper the nearer they came to Turgen’s place, and care had to be taken to avoid loose stones and trees blown down in a storm. But neither Aksa nor Tim lagged behind their host. They were so happy to have all of his attention, so eager for what was coming next, that they could think of a hundred things to say. Aksa especially was very inquisitive.
“Turgen,” she asked, “why do you live in the mountains instead of the valley, like us?”
“Why? I don’t know myself,” Turgen answered. “We Lamuts always prefer to live in the mountains near water. We aren’t like the Yakuts who need good grazing grounds for their horses and cows. Look at me. I have nothing except two guns, fishing tackle and my strong legs. I don’t even own a dog. Most Lamuts are poor. It seems to be our fate. Besides, there aren’t many of us left. Here--I’m the only one. There was another family lived here several years ago, but they moved.”
“Why?” Tim wanted to know.
“I can’t say, my boy. Just as a fish seeks deeper water, so a man looks for a place that will be better for him. Only happiness does not lie in changing one place for another, but in belonging to a fine family like yours.”
Turgen patted Aksa’s head as he spoke.
“Didn’t you have a family before?” she questioned.
When Turgen answered her his face was sober. “Yes, but they went away, leaving me alone.”
“To what place did they go?” the girl persisted.
But Turgen could not talk about this. “To the place all people must go. It is too soon for you to understand.”
Before Aksa could open her mouth for another question, Tim pulled her painfully by her braid, saying, “We are now your family. So Mama said. I will live with you, Turgen, forever.”
“And so will I!” Aksa hastened to add.
“Splendid!” Turgen said, the smile coming back to his eyes. “And now that is settled we must get to the end of our journey.”
Tim, wanting to distract attention from a subject that was plainly not to Turgen’s liking, and also because he was bursting with questions of his own, blurted out: “Is it true what people say, that you are friendly with wild rams?” When Turgen showed no sign of distaste for this subject, he rushed on: “I can hardly believe that rams will let you come close to them. From what I hear, they run faster than the wind and can jump from one mountain to another. It is difficult even to see them. We have never seen them--not Mama nor Aksa nor I. Are they really so smart that they know of danger before it comes near them? People also say--”
The boy broke off sharply.
“That I am a sorcerer and bewitched. Is that what people say?” Turgen finished for him. But his expression was kind.
Tim nodded. “This we don’t believe.”
“Good. People will always talk a lot of nonsense when they haven’t anything better to do.” Turgen shook his head. “More’s the pity. But since you are interested I will tell you what I know of the rams. What you hear is part true and part exaggeration. Yes, Lad was my friend. I cannot say as much for the old rams who are still fearful because I am a man. And why should they love us who hunt them down?” Turgen hesitated. “Later I will tell you more. And tomorrow, if you should happen to wake up early, and the day is bright, you will be able to see the rams for yourself on top of that cliff over there.” He pointed to the one opposite his yurta.
Aksa and Tim clapped their hands and whirled with joy. “Will you, Turgen? Oh, will you? We will do anything you say, and get up very early.”
A sight of the rams was worth any promise.
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