Top of the World Stories for Boys and Girls Part 7

SIKKU AND THE TROLLS

In the time of Charles the Twelfth there lived, in North Finland, a poor herd-boy called Sikku. His name should have been Sixtus, but the tongue of the Finn is so unmanageable that some names baffle it, and in that case he simply makes them over to suit himself,--to the form that he can best p.r.o.nounce; so for that reason, Sixtus became Sikku.

Sikku was so poor that he had neither cap nor s.h.i.+rt nor shoes; but not in the least did this trouble him. He was always gay and happy, and while tending his cows at the foot of Sipuri Mountain, sang songs from morning till evening or blew on his wooden horn, taking great delight in hearing the mountain echoes mimic him.

Sikku had an old jack-knife, which counted for riches to him; and besides that he rejoiced in a comrade named Kettu, a long-nosed, long-tailed yellow dog, faithful to Sikku, but with a testy temper toward other folk.

The two stood by each other in plenty and in need, through weal and through woe. Kettu drove the cows together when they strayed, Kettu watched them while Sikku took his midday nap, and Sikku shared with Kettu the hard bread that was, for both, the usual breakfast and dinner.

With the bread, they always had a fine soup of clear spring water, and almost every day a delicious dessert,--strawberries, raspberries, Arctic blackberries, blueberries, red whortleberries, wild cherries, or berries from the mountain-ash.

Kettu scorned such things, but Sikku enjoyed them all in the course of the summer, and thought he fared like a prince. When the weather was very rainy and cold, however, he would begin, toward evening, to long for the porridge pot. Oh, that nice warm porridge pot, that he could sc.r.a.pe and sc.r.a.pe, eating all the porridge there was left anywhere in it! Kettu got the porridge ladle to lick, and stole Miss p.u.s.s.y's milk from the broken earthen dish which stood on the floor near the water-tub, though he seldom got the milk without a battle!

The master of Anttilla Farm was stingy and grasping and his wife was like him, but what mattered that to Sikku? He had his freedom, and the only thing he was responsible for was that all the fifteen cows returned to the farm every evening to be milked. Not another care in the world had Sikku, and for a time all went well and happily.

One day he climbed up the highest peak of the mountain while Kettu watched the cows in the valley. There was a wide beautiful view over forests, marshes, and small lonely lakes, but no houses were in sight.

Sikku had never in his life thought that the world could be so big! His heart warmed within him as he saw the sun sparkle on the lakes between the dark branches of the pines. When a cloud sailed over the sky, one gleam after another flashed, vanished in shadow and shone out anew in another spot. Sikku sang and sang, blowing his wooden horn between times. The sounds rang out merrily up there on the mountain and turned into a little song:

"Oh, Sipuri Mountain! Tu-tu'! Falidu'!

Tu-tu'! Falidu'!

In all the whole world not a boy can be found Who is tending his cows, with such grandeur around.

Tu-tu'! Falidu'!"

While he was singing, there suddenly appeared before him a hideous little old woman who said to him, "All the land that you see shall be yours if you will be my boy and obey me."

"Oh, ho!" exclaimed Sikku, observing the woman closely and recognizing her as the troll woman from Allis Farm.

"Give me the white cow, Kimmo," continued she, "and say when you go home that the wolf caught her."

Sikku's eyes grew big and he answered: "Indeed I will not. I am no such rascal as that!"

"Then blame yourself for what happens," said the troll woman; and with that she hopped, crow fas.h.i.+on, down the mountain.

Kettu began to howl from the valley. Sikku sprang down and found that Kimmo had sunk in the wet marsh so that only her horn stood up above the soft, yielding ground. He tried to drag her out, but he was not strong enough, and when he had worked over her until he was worn out, he had to give up and go home driving only fourteen cows, while the bell cow lowed and Kettu howled.

Poor Sikku told of the disaster and got a hard thras.h.i.+ng; and the next morning was sent to his work without anything to eat, not even the dry bread usually given to him for the noon meal.

He sang no songs that day but sat hungry and sorrowful at the foot of the mountain. By and by, the long-bearded old troll man from Allis came to him and said:

"Give me the black cow, Mustikka, and say that the wolf tore her to pieces, and I will give you all the land you can see from Sipuri Peak."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "OH, HO!"

EXCLAIMED SIKKU, RECOGNIZING HER AS THE TROLL WOMAN.--_Page 89_.]

"Indeed I will not. I am no such rascal as that!" answered Sikku, offended.

"Blame yourself then for what happens," said the troll; and with that off he went, turning somersaults all the way.

Kettu began to bark. Sikku ran at once to the herd and found Mustikka lying dead among the trees on a hillside. She had eaten some poisonous plant and could not be restored to life. Sikku, distressed and crying, made a birch-bark cone, in which he brought water from the spring and dashed over her head; but it was of no use. He must go home with only thirteen cows and report the misfortune. This time he was shut up in the cellar without food for three days. The fourth day he was sent out with the thirteen cows and the usual lunch-bag. Being very hungry he no sooner reached the gate than he opened the bag, but found in it only a gray stone!

Sikku drove the cows toward the mountain, ate berries in the forest, and sat down, full of grief, on a stump right in the midst of the herd, so that no further ill might befall. Then there came to him the pretty little troll maiden from Allis, who held out toward him a fresh wheaten roll, patted his thin cheek, and said:

"Give me the red cow, Mansikka, and tell them when you go home that a bear tore her to pieces, and you shall have this nice fresh roll and all the land you can see from the top of Sipuri besides."

Sikku was so hungry that he could have swallowed a roll of moss! He looked at the wheaten roll, he looked at the pretty little troll maiden and had to bite his tongue to keep from instantly answering yes. But the troll maiden laughed and that offended Sikku, and he answered:

"Indeed I will not. I am no such rascal as that!"

"Blame yourself then for what happens!" said the troll maiden; and with that, fluttering like a magpie, away she went into the forest.

Sikku, fearing a new misfortune, turned at once to Mansikka who had been grazing right near him. She now lay stretched at full length upon the gra.s.s with a snake hanging fast to her nose; and in a short time she was dead from the poisonous bite. What did it matter that Sikku killed the snake? Its bite had killed the cow, and home must he go with only twelve cows, and tell of this new disaster.

"Decide yourself what punishment you deserve!" said the angry farmer.

"Shall I roast you in the bath-house furnace or would you rather be thrown into the deep well?"

"I couldn't help it,--it wasn't my fault!" said Sikku, weeping bitterly.

"Three times they offered me all the land I could see from Sipuri Peak if I would steal a cow for them and then lie to you; but that of course I would not do."

"They did, did they?" said the farmer. "Very well. That is my land that you see from Sipuri Peak and I will promise it to you, if you, before the next full moon, lead to my farm nine beautiful cows in the place of Kimmo, Mustikka, and Mansikka, lying dead over there by the mountain.

But what shall I do with you now? You must have some kind of punishment."

"Bind him hand and foot, lay him on the highest peak of Sipuri Mountain, and let him eat his fill of the view of the land you promise him," said the farm mistress, who could not forgive Sikku for the loss of the three cows.

This suggestion pleased the farmer. Sikku was bound hand and foot, and placed on the tip top of the mountain; and everybody was forbidden to give him anything to eat or drink. The remaining twelve cows were driven by another boy to graze in fields the other side of the farm, far away from the mountain.

There lay Sikku, bound hand and foot, and half dead from hunger. The forest wafted fragrance, the lakes glittered in the suns.h.i.+ne, twilight came, night came, the dew fell, the thrushes sang, the stars twinkled, and the moon looked down upon the poor boy; and it seemed as if no one in the whole world thought or cared about him.

But high over mountain and forest, over the lakes, the dew, the thrushes and even the stars and the moon, there is nevertheless One who sees all the oppressed and miserable upon earth; and He saw even poor forsaken Sikku and sent to him a faithful friend. Who was the faithful friend?

Who should it be but Kettu?

Kettu could have porridge to eat at the farm; he could steal milk, as was his custom, from the cat's broken dish by the water-tub; but though he was hungry, Kettu chose rather to dash up the mountain in search of Sikku, to lie at Sikku's bound feet, and lick his bound hands. Sikku was so glad to have his dog with him that he once more felt happy and content; and soon both fell asleep in the moonlight.

Now there was at this time,--in the reign of Charles the Twelfth,--a great war going on in the southern part of the land. The people in North Finland did not know much about this war, but lived in peace behind their thick forests. Suddenly an enemy's fleet appeared on their seacoast and bands of warriors were put ash.o.r.e. They spread over the land, fighting and plundering everywhere.

On this very night, one of these fierce warrior bands had come to the region near Sipuri. They attacked, burned and plundered Anttilla Farm, took the master himself prisoner, and drove forth all his cattle as part of their booty.

Afterward the warriors separated into smaller groups, to continue their plundering in other places. And certain Cossacks were left behind to guard the prisoners and the stolen cattle, until it was convenient to put them on board the s.h.i.+p.

Early in the morning, Sikku awoke to find that Kettu was biting a man in the leg. Two wild-looking, heavily-bearded men had climbed to the mountain top to get a good view of the land and see whither they should now betake themselves. Finding a young boy, tied and helpless, they pitied him,--hostile though they were,--freed him, gave him bread from their knapsacks and took him along with them.

Reaching their horses, which had been left tied to trees at the foot of the mountain, one of the men lifted Sikku to his horse's back, the other drove Kettu away so that he should not follow them, and off they galloped, not stopping until the riders neared the sh.o.r.e of a large lake.

Much booty and many prisoners had been brought here, but the Cossacks were so eager to continue their raids that they left only six men to guard what they had already taken, the others riding forth again immediately.

When night came on, the six Cossacks began to be afraid lest some of the land's own people should attack them in the dark. Therefore, they got into a small boat, taking Sikku with them, and rowed out to an island in the lake, so that they might pa.s.s the night in safety. They left the cattle to graze on the sh.o.r.e, while the prisoners and even the six horses were still securely bound to the trees.

Sikku lay among the Cossacks on the barren island. The night was dark, the great waves dashed against the island's pebbly beach, and a strong wind blew toward the mainland. Sikku was wakeful, and heard the long-drawn, regular breathing of the weary Cossacks as they slept beside him. Five of them lay there, but the sixth had stayed on guard in the boat.