CHAPTER VI

STILL HIGHER UP THE MOUNTAIN

THREE weeks after Vinzi had arrived at his cousin's house, a good friend of his father stopped to see him on his way to Domo. He brought greetings from Vinzi's father and mother and said that on his return journey he had promised to stop at the Lesa home to carry back news of the boy. Vinzenz and his wife were eager to know how their son took to the life on the mountain and how he was getting along with his cousin's family, and whether or not his reserve and dreamy ways made him a burden.

Lorenz and Josepha were to decide when he was to return home. When they thought it time to send him, would they kindly find a companion, or let them know so they could arrange the matter in Leuk? The man had expected to return to Leuk in five or six days, and it was now the fifth day since he had called on them and then journeyed on to Domo.

Lorenz had just stepped into the room where his wife was setting the table for supper.

"The man from Leuk will not come today," said Lorenz. "I suppose he will be here tomorrow, and we must make him understand the joy Vinzi has brought us."

"Indeed so," his wife agreed. "I was just wondering why they sent him up here. Certainly we would wish to keep such a son at home. People do that sort of thing if a boy is not as he should be, or if he has strange fancies which he might lose among strangers. But Vinzi is an exceptional boy. Since he has been in our home, I scarcely know my own boys. There is Russli, for instance. He had to be dragged to the pump every morning and while he was being washed, he would scream and fight for dear life. Now as soon as he is out of bed, he rushes to the stream behind the hayrick and thinks it fun to wash himself because Vinzi does it and likes it. He scrubs himself cleaner than I ever washed him, just because he wants to be like Vinzi, who certainly always is spick and span. And now Russli never comes home from the pasture crying. When I ask him how it happens he comes home without howling and complaining, he says Faz doesn't beat him any more because Vinzi takes his part. When I ask Faz how it is he lets Russli come home in peace, he declares Vinzi keeps the boy in order so he needs no beating. Faz says he likes it better so, and wishes Vinzi would remain with us always. He never talked that way before, and he liked to hit out. And Jos, who always made the least trouble, as you yourself must admit—"

"Yes, truly, the eldest son is always the model boy in his mother's eyes," interrupted her husband.

"Indeed, our Jos is good to look at," continued the wife, "but Vinzi is even better-mannered. Jos himself has remarked it and imitates whatever Vinzi does. Good manners suit him so well that, with a cap on his head and a mantle over his shoulders such as we see strangers wearing on the passing stage-coach, he would be taken for a gentleman's son."

"That's not to be desired," said Lorenz aside.

"And we never had any idea Jos had such a fine voice until Vinzi came with his music. What lovely times we have every evening! We are never disturbed any more with one boy throwing the other under the table, while the third rocks his chair to pieces. I believe our music has tamed them all, they are such different boys. Why did your cousin send his son up here instead of keeping him at home? I know very well his wife could not have wished it. Now tell me what you think."

"You may well believe that Vinzenz Lesa had some good reason," replied her husband. "But I have asked myself the same question and am unable to answer it. All I remember is that he told me something about some fault in the boy. When that man from Leuk asked if Vinzi's reserve and such-like annoyed us, I recalled that Vinzenz thought our boys were more interested in their work and wished his son were so, and thought a summer with us, in altogether different surroundings, might help him. He was right, for Vinzi is as a lark now and makes everybody else merrier than they were."

The happy shouts of the returning boys were now heard, and the father went outside to help them, while the mother turned to the kitchen; she could now put the food on the table, and that would avoid impatience at waiting and prevent burned throats, too.

Next day the man from Leuk returned from Domo. As Lorenz seated himself by his side, the caller asked, "Now, what shall I report?"

"Tell my Cousin Vinzenz everything here is going along well," began Lorenz, "and say that his boy is happy. He sings and whistles like a bird in the seed fields, and we all join in."

"And that we love him as though he belonged to us," added Josepha. "Say that we want to keep him until the last days of autumn."

"Yes," agreed Lorenz, "and we would like it still better if he would leave the lad with us through the winter. He has not annoyed anyone on the whole mountain, but on the contrary, has made them all happy."

"Vinzenz Lesa will be glad to hear that," said the man, "and I will report to him all you say. Mrs. Lesa will ask how the boy is looking, but I suppose I will not be able to see him."

"No; the boys are all on the pasture from six in the morning till six in the evening, singing and playing the pipe, and wishing for nothing better," explained Lorenz. "That news will please my cousin better than if you had found the lad in the house."

"And tell his mother that she has no need to worry," continued Josepha. "Her boy is as lively as a brook trout, and if he were not, I would care for him as for one of my own boys."

"Now, that's fine," said the messenger from Leuk, well satisfied as he started on his way, happy at the news he could carry to Mrs. Lesa, who had urged him to inquire into the smallest details—many more than he could remember.

Vinzi had kept his promise to cut beautiful pipes for Jos and Faz, and there had been such a frenzy of practising that pipe-playing had come to be their sole entertainment.

They both realized that Vinzi played far better than they, and to learn just how he did it was their highest ambition. The piping began as soon as they reached the pasture in the morning, and continued uninterruptedly as long as the cows grazed peacefully. Jos and Faz were leaders among the herd boys round about, and when they did not appear on the other pastures, little by little the others sought them on their own, and soon the passion for music spread.

After the pipes had been whining and screeching against one another, the players begged Vinzi to play so they could see how he did it. He was pleased to play as long as they desired and they crowded close around him to watch the action of his fingers. It seemed the melodies flowed forth of themselves; all Vinzi did was to let his fingers skip lightly over the holes. It looked so simple, each boy thought now he could do it himself and wanted to be the first to play. When the expected success did not come, he would declare that if he had his own pipe and could practise long enough, things would be different; but who could do much when he could only keep the precious instrument for a few minutes; when there were always ten more eager to use it?

Hence one boy after another came to ask: "Vinzi, what will you take to cut me a good pipe too?"

And Vinzi always replied readily: "You don't need to give me anything, but you must wait a while for your pipe, as I have already promised to make several others."

His Cousin Lorenz was delighted to hear his boys talking in the evenings about how all the herders, even those as far up as the hospice, came down to their pasture to hear the pipe-playing, and that they wanted to learn as well as to listen.

Vinzi was cutting so many pipes that there were two or three on each pasture, but there were so many boys that these did not suffice; each could only play a few notes before another boy wanted to see what he could do. It took long practise and much patience to produce a correct note, and to play a real tune was beyond the ability of most of them. Thus it came about that the supreme wish of each boy herder was to own a pipe which Vinzi had carved, for the pipes the others made did not produce true tones.

Among the group of herders were ten or twelve who were called the Tower Boys. Vinzi was never sure how many of them there were, because only a few of them could come to the Lesa pasture at a time; as on the other pastures, some must always stay to watch the cattle. At first Vinzi thought the Tower Boys were all brothers, but then he found out that they were cousins and belonged to three households. Already he had made pipes for two of them for they had been especially eager to own the instruments.

Then Black Vereli, so called on account of his black curly hair and dark skin, begged so earnestly for a pipe, that Vinzi was unable to refuse and gave him one which was already finished, though many of the boys cried jealously, "The Tower Boys already have two!"

Black Vereli ran off with his prize with many thanks and shouts of joy.

The following day he came again and hurried up to Vinzi to say, "I have to watch the cows today, but I have a message for you. I showed grandfather the pipe and he had me play for him. When he said I didn't know how to play, I told him you could do it better than anyone else. Then he said you must soon pay him a visit and play for him. Go tomorrow, won't you?" he called back as he ran away.

That evening he told his cousin of the message that Black Vereli brought and asked what he should do about it.

"Go up to the Tower in the morning," said his cousin, explaining that the grandfather was the oldest man on the whole mountainside, and the people usually did what he wished.

"Whose grandfather is he?" asked Vinzi.

"Of those they call the Tower Boys," answered his cousin, "and of a lot more who remain at home. Only the boys who tend the cattle go up there in the summer. He is really their great, or even their great-great-grandfather. But that is too long a name, so all his relatives on the mountain call him grandfather. If all his grandchildren and great-grandchildren were together, it would make quite a crowd."

"Yes, and Black Vereli is the worst of the lot," added Faz.

"How so?" asked his father.

"Oh, the Tower Boys are forever playing all kinds of tricks and Black Vereli is the inventor of them all," explained Faz. "Jos only keeps in with him because he can yodel so well."

"Yes, so he can, better than any of them," confirmed Jos. "But I think the mischief will die down now he has something else to think about. Vinzi has made him a pipe and he is determined to practise until he can play on it. And when he wants a thing, he never gives up until he gets it."

"Those pipes are a real blessing to the whole mountain for they tame even the worst boys," said the mother, leaning back comfortably in her armchair.

The next morning when the boys were setting off with their herd, Lorenz Lesa said to Vinzi, "Go right up to the Tower, for grandfather goes out to his little bench at the first peep of dawn, and there he suns himself until evening. You will have to judge when to return, but stay as long as he wants you."

And then they were off, Russli a little in the rear with Vinzi as always. He had listened attentively to his father's words and now said, "Come back soon. Come down to us again as soon as you have played for grandfather."

"You heard what your father said," returned Vinzi. "I must do just what the grandfather wishes. If he wants me to stay up there all the morning, that is what I must do."

"Then I'll tickle all the cows," threatened Russli quite savagely.

"That is wicked of you!" exclaimed Vinzi indignantly. "I always thought you were quite a nice boy. Haven't I stuck by you, told you stories and played tunes for you? I had begun to think that what Faz said about you was not true, but after all I do not know. Do you know what I am going to do? I am going to stay with Jos and Faz after this, and you can be by yourself; I'll not go with you any more."

"Then I won't do it," said Russli, half obstinately, half penitently.

"That's the right way, Russli," said Vinzi, easily appeased. "And I will carve out something on my way and bring it back for you. I'll do that every time I go away. Now what would you like, a walking stick?"

"No," came the decisive answer.

"A flagstaff then?"

"No."

"What would you like?"

"A pipe."

"You got one ever so long ago," asserted Vinzi.

"All the same I want another, and then another. I want a pipe every time you carve something for me," persisted Russli stubbornly.

"A pipe it shall be," promised Vinzi.

When they came to the pasture, Jos and Faz drove the herd to the right of the road toward the larch trees, but Vinzi continued on his way.

The three boys called out, "Come back soon," over and over again, and each time Vinzi waved his cap in answer, at last flinging it up in the all for sheer joy and shouting repeated hurrahs.

Vinzi had never been so happy. The sun shone out of a cloudless blue sky over the green fields and rugged mountain cliffs where the dark firs lifted their branches. Yes, this was the way he had come, but how different it all looked today! The scene grew more and more beautiful. The snow-capped mountain reached out above the wooded heights. How great and mighty were the gleaming snow-fields! Oh, how wonderful!

Suddenly a broad stream of light, shining like a wide silver river, spread right across the entire mountain. It came without a rustle, without a movement. That was no flowing water; it was but a great glacier. Vinzi had to stand still as there flamed up a strange blue fire across the expanse. He was so filled with the beauty of it he could hardly pass on but at last he had to go.

Then came the sound as of rustling woods, but there was no forest near. No, there was a waterfall, tumbling into white foam as it left the high cliff for the depths below; a second leaped down just as madly. Here and there boiling mountain streams rushed down from the walls of rock, and the air that was wafted to him was gloriously cool. He stood still and breathed in great draughts of it.

But what was that glowing red field above on the mountain slope? He ran up to it, never noticing how steep was the way. Time and time again the red field disappeared when the road made a curve. Then it would stand out in the rays of the sun, always nearer, always brighter. Now came the tinkling of cow-bells, tuneful sounds well-known to him. But where was the herd? He paused and gazed around. Yes, there to the left the herd was grazing peacefully in a green pasture and with them were a number of young herders.

In the middle of the valley rose the old gray stone tower that he had seen on his journey here and which his cousins had described to him. The grandfather sat leaning against the stone wall while he gazed up into the blue heavens. Hair snow white covered his bare head and a heavy white beard fell down to his chest. The old man sitting in the sunshine and the herd calmly grazing around him made a peaceful scene. Even the old tower which lived in his memory as a frightful thing now seemed a comfortable dwelling where the Tower Boys could lead a happy life with the grandfather. He wanted to see it all, but first he must find that red field.

Vinzi climbed hurriedly. Another bend in the road, and the bright red field lay before him. He climbed up to the right of the road and went in among the heavy green foliage. Everywhere were the glowing red alpine roses. As far as he could see, the slope was covered with the crimson flowers.

"Oh, how beautiful!" Vinzi exclaimed over and over again to himself.

Treading softly, he discovered an open spot where he would not bruise a plant, and here he seated himself in the midst of the flowers and gazed in silent rapture on the grandeur around him. The heavens spread their deep blue above the shimmering field of roses, the green alpine slopes and gray mountain peaks. The mighty mountain raised its snow-cap high into the air, and raging mountain streams threw their white foam and mist against the shining sun to show a wealth of rainbow color.

Vinzi must have sat dreaming a long time. Suddenly he noticed the sun was directly overhead; it must be near noon. Starting up in surprise, he ran in long leaps over the rose field, carefully choosing his way that he might not injure the blossoms. With a last leap he was again on the road and off in full speed to the meadow slope at the old tower. He brought up right before the grandfather who was still sitting on the bench in the warm sunshine but well protected from the wind.

It took a moment for Vinzi to regain his breath, during which the grandfather asked calmly, "What's the matter, boy? What's your hurry?"

"I have been dawdling a bit. I meant to get here earlier," answered Vinzi, now able to breathe easier. "Black Vereli told me I should come up here to you, that you wished me to play on my pipe."

"So you are the lad who carves these shawms, and who plays so well on them, they say?" said the aged man. "It is nice of you to come up to me. Sit down beside me and tell me to whom you belong and from where you come."

Vinzi seated himself and explained that while he lived in Leuk, he was staying a while with his cousin, Lorenz Lesa.

"I know him," said the old man. "He is a fine man. Did he have no objection to your coming?"

Vinzi told him it was his cousin himself who had bidden him come and had told him to stay as long as the grandfather wished.

"That's fine; then you can play something for me. But I'm thinking we should have a bite to eat first." Therewith the old man stood up but suddenly changed his mind, for he reseated himself comfortably in his place.

"I'm thinking it would not be out of place for the youngster to fetch the food while the old man keeps his seat," he said, giving Vinzi a friendly clap on the shoulder. "Just go around the corner, open the door and you will find everything ready on the shelf, the food and a pitcher of milk. Bring it here."

Vinzi quickly came back and placed the food on the bench between them.

[Illustration]

The grandfather cut bread and cheese for himself and invited Vinzi to do likewise.

"How do you like it on our mountain?" asked the grandfather in a few minutes.

Vinzi's eyes sparkled, as he said, "Oh, it is beautiful here! I never saw anything more lovely!" full of his recent impressions.

Well pleased, the grandfather patted him on the shoulder. "Neither did I; neither did I!" highly gratified. "You think as I do. Where could it be more beautiful? Where is there more golden sunshine than here? And air so invigorating that the whole body senses it at each breath! It gives one strength, this air and this sun. I can say this because I know something about it. Certainly my strength is failing, but though no longer young I am still healthy. How old do you suppose I am, boy?"

"About seventy," declared Vinzi.

"So that's what you think? Why, I was seventy more than twenty odd years ago! I was young at that age. It was no trouble to carry a heavy load on my back down into the valley, and to carry a new load up. But I can't do that any more, and the young folks want me to do nothing more than to keep peace among the boys at the Tower during the summer. During the day they are with the herd, but they all come back to the Tower in the evening, and order has to be kept among them. Someone has to be in command; otherwise things would go awry.

"During the day I sit here in the sunshine and have time to thank our dear God for everything he has done for me in my lifetime. Since I passed my ninetieth birthday, I don't count the years any more. I take each lovely day as one of God's beautiful gifts and in the evening look up to Heaven and say from the bottom of my heart, 'I thank Thee for this day, good Father in Heaven; I thank Thee!' And when my time comes to go, it will not be far. Just look up and see what a short flight for me to be there. That is why I love it on this mountain; it is so near to Heaven and I can look out into the distance. One's thoughts go upwards and that makes both life and death happy things."

Vinzi was sorry when he ceased speaking, for he would have liked to learn much more about him.

"What are you thinking about?" asked the old man after a short silence.

"I was wishing you would tell me how you get along in winter when the herd boys have gone home. Do you dwell in the Tower all alone, or do you have to go away, when you could be so happy here?" said Vinzi.

"I have not gone down into the valley for the last ten years, and I am glad I do not have to," said the old man, drawing in a deep breath of the mountain air. "I could not stand the heavy air or the crowds. Neither do I live alone in the Tower, for I have good friends here, the monks in the hospice. You know where stands the hospice, don't you?"

"No," replied Vinzi, "and I don't even know what a hospice is."

"It is a kind house," explained the old man. "Travelers who can go no farther on account of the deep snow and the bitter cold are taken in there. Sometimes travelers who are half frozen lie down. Then the good monks in the hospice take them indoors to the warm fire and strengthen them with food and drink so they can continue on their journey. They are my kind friends, those monks; and when the boys travel off home with the herd in the autumn, I go to live at the hospice. It is not far, just above there; you can see it now."

"Oh, I remember it!" exclaimed Vinzi, as he recalled the great stone house on the road.

"There is always a warm corner in the fireplace ready for me," continued the grandfather. "There I sit all through the winter and listen to the words of the kind monks. Now and again I see someone whom they have saved from a miserable death, buckling on his knapsack with fresh courage. I often hear about how the world is going on down below, and I am always happy to have escaped it all and to be up here."

"Yes, I can well believe that," said Vinzi, appreciatively.

"How would it be to play some tunes now?" asked the grandfather after a pause.

Pulling out his pipe, Vinzi began a melody that pleased the old man, so he asked to hear it over again. When he had repeated it, the grandfather said, "That was very beautiful. Was it a hymn?"

"Yes, it was," said Vinzi.

"How do you come to know it? Young boys do not generally like to play hymns. Where did you find it?"

"I did not find it. I only imitate what I hear sung. Mother sings such hymns at home every evening," Vinzi informed him.

"Do you know more like it?" the aged man asked.

"Yes, yes; a lot of them," Vinzi assured him.

"I wonder if you can play a hymn I heard once, but never again. I would so love to hear it again. But all I can tell is how each stanza ends; perhaps you will know what it is by that."

"Or perhaps you can sing a little of the air," suggested Vinzi.

"No, no, my lad; I'm no longer able to sing," objected the grandfather, "but I can tell you what the hymn was about and how the refrain went. You see I was not always as happy as now. When I was a boy like you, I was happy for I had a mother who watched over me just as yours does. My father had died and I had comrades who wanted to go out into the world. I wanted to go with them. My mother did not wish it, but I went.

"We traveled, sometimes as soldiers, sometimes as workmen. It was a wild life. But you do not understand anything about that. Finally I could stand no more and said, 'Let us turn back and start a new life.' But they would not, and so I returned home alone. It had been a long time since I had written to my mother, or had heard from her. When I arrived home, I found she had died. 'Your going away was her death,' our neighbor said, and the words burnt into my soul.

"I determined to begin a new life for then everything might come out right. But there was no happiness for me. Accusations seared my conscience like fire and once, when I could not sleep for remorse, I cried out to Heaven: 'Oh, mother, how ready you always were to help me! Though I do not deserve it, help me now!' On awakening in the morning I heard my mother's voice saying, 'Go to church, Klaus; the bell is ringing!' That is just what she always said every Sunday morning.

"I jumped out of bed and found it was actually Sunday. I had not been to church for a long while, but I went that day. At first I could not follow the pastor's words; they were not for me. But suddenly I heard, 'Then the Lord came down from Heaven bringing peace and forgiveness, so that we should not perish in our sins but enjoy everlasting happiness.' That was meant for me, and went through me like a ray of sunlight. Then came the hymn. I understood every word of it, for it told just how I felt. At the end of each stanza these words sounded as from a glad choir:

"'Yes, the holy hymn of grace Sounds through all eternity.'

"I have never forgotten it. From that day I have gone to church whenever the bells have pealed and I have listened to many a good word and have been happy ever since. Can you play that hymn for me?"

Vinzi would have been happy to do his bidding, but he did not know the song.

"Well," said the grandfather when he saw how sorry Vinzi was he could not fulfill his wish, "play one of your own for me; I will be glad to hear it."

Vinzi did this joyfully, and played one piece after another until a hubbub in the distance told that the herd boys were on their homeward way. Then he stood up quickly, asking if the grandfather minded if he left now.

The old man declared it was high time he departed, but he could not understand how the time had flown.

"Will you come again soon?" he asked. "Tell your Cousin Lorenz I am expecting you. I must say one thing more: Teach our boys to play on the pipe as you do, so we will have music worth hearing when you are gone."

Vinzi declared he was showing them every day how it was done but they did not bring out the notes clearly and smoothly so as to make a melody. They learned to sing a song much sooner than they learn to play it on the pipe.

"Well, teach them to sing pretty songs, then; you must know any number of them. You know songs which are not hymns?"

"I have heard Cousin Lorenz sing a few, and I knew one before that, though I never had the words belonging to it," replied Vinzi.

"You are worse than I am; you are just a boy but already forget the words. You are too young to do that," was the grandfather's opinion.

"No, I have not forgotten them," said Vinzi quite seriously. "I never knew them."

The old man looked searchingly at the boy to see if he were joking, but Vinzi was much too earnest for that, so he asked: "How can you know a song if you do not know the words?"

"I know how they ought to sound, and a few of the words, but I cannot put them together so they will make a song. This morning when I sat among the roses, I heard the song and could sing it, but not the words. Oh, if only someone could make a song of it!" And Vinzi looked up at the old man with a strange craving on his face.

"Perhaps I know someone," replied the latter, for something had occurred to him that might help Vinzi.

"What would your song be about?"

"Why, about roses and the sunshine on them, the sunlight on the mountains and the foaming waters, and about all the beautiful things up there." Vinzi's eyes sparkled as he spoke, for all the while he kept hearing the melody that made his song and felt the urge to sing it aloud.

"Well, I'll tell Father Silvanus about it, and we'll see what he has to say about it," and with these words the grandfather shook Vinzi's hand and the boy ran off down the mountain.

Loud shouts came from the pump where the three boys were washing. They all pounced on him at once and wanted to know what he had done all day, at the same time telling him what had happened to them. In the middle of it all Russli tugged away at his coat, for he had something important to tell him. He was at last able to make himself heard and said, "I didn't lash one of them all day, not a single one."

And upon hearing this report, Vinzi drew a beautiful new pipe out of his pocket and gave it to the little fellow. He had attained such skill in carving pipes that he had made one while seated among the roses that morning.

[Illustration]

Cousin Lorenz and his wife Josepha greeted him as heartily as though he had been away a long time and when he delivered the grandfather's message, his cousin said, "Yes, yes; go up there just as much as you please, only return to us each evening," and his wife added, "It would suit me if things would never change, and if Vinzi could stay with us always."

A little later when Vinzi sat on the doorsill of the hayrick, he had so much to think about that it seemed he would never get to bed. The grandfather's history had made a deep impression on him, and while the old man had talked an idea had come to him that had kept growing more and more vivid. It seemed he must carry it out at once.

Taking up his pipe, Vinzi played softly to himself. Often the notes died away, and Vinzi hearkened dreamily as he hummed, trying to round out a melody. He gazed around him. All the houses were dark, but the stars shone so wonderfully bright that he hushed both pipe and voice and gazed up at the sky in silent devotion.

"Oh, now I know it!" he exclaimed suddenly, and lifting his shawm again enticed from it a series of jubilant notes. Then he closed his little door, stepped to his fragrant bed of hay and lay down in whole-hearted satisfaction. But now wonder-music seemed to begin again and it seemed that angelic choirs were singing to him from the starlit heavens, but Vinzi heard it in a dream, for as soon as his head had touched the pillow the boy was fast asleep.