Treasures of the Snow

by Patricia St John

  Lucien had wandered farther than usual up the mountain one half holiday from school, and sat as usual working hard on his carving. He was carving a squirrel holding a nut between its paws when he suddenly became aware of heavy breathing behind him.

  He turned quickly to see the old man of the mountain looking over his shoulder.

  He was certainly a terrifying sight. His huge, tangled, grey beard covered his chest, and his hooked brown nose made him look like some fierce bird of prey. But as Lucien gazed up, startled, into his eyes, he noticed that they were bright and kind and full of interest, and he decided not to run away after all. Besides, his great loneliness made him less afraid than he would have been otherwise. This old man might be odd, or even wicked, but at least he knew nothing about what Lucien had done.

  So he said, “Bonjour, Monsieur,” as boldly as he could and waited to see what would happen next.

  The old man put out a hand like a brown claw and picked up the little carved squirrel. He examined it and turned it over several times, then he remarked, “You carve well for a child. Who is your teacher?”

  “Monsieur, I have no teacher. I taught myself.” “Then you yourself are a good teacher, and you deserve proper tools. With a little training you might start to earn your living. This squirrel looks almost as if it is alive.”

  “Monsieur, I have no tools, and I don’t have the money to buy them.”

  In reply the old man beckoned with his claw-like hand. Lucien, feeling like someone in a dream, got up and followed him through the dim wood. They climbed some way in silence until they came to the borders where the old man’s tiny chalet stood.

  There was no outhouse except for a wooden barn where the hens roosted, and the goat shared the kitchen with the old man. So did the ginger cat who sat washing himself in the sunshine. The bedroom was also the hayloft, and the old man slept on sacks laid across the goat’s winter food supply of hay.

  The kitchen and living room were poorly but strangely furnished. There was a stove, a milking bucket and stool, a table, one chair, and a cheese press. All around the walls, out of reach of the goat, were shelves covered with carved wooden figures— some beautiful, some ugly, but all the work of a real artist.

  There were bears and cows and chamois and goats, St. Bernard dogs and squirrels. There were little men and women, gnomes and dwarfs, and dancing children. There were boxes with alpine flowers carved on their lids, and dishes with flowers carved around the rim. Best of all there was a Noah’s ark with a stream of tiny animals marching in. Lucien could not take his eyes off it. He just stared and stared.

  “It’s just a hobby of mine,” said the old man. “They keep me company on winter evenings. Now, boy, if you will come and visit me from time to time, I will teach you how to use the tools.”

  Lucien looked up eagerly. His whole face was alive, and he no longer looked ugly.

  “Did you say, Monsieur,” he asked hesitatingly, “that perhaps I might soon earn my living?”

  “In time,” said the old man, “yes. I have a friend who sells woodcraft at a good price. He sells many of my little figures, but some I get fond of and prefer to keep. In a short time he would start selling your best work for you. You will do much better with my tools than with your knife.”

  Still Lucien gazed up at him. His heart was singing with thankfulness because this old man seemed to care for him and wanted to take an interest in him. Here at last was somebody whom he needn’t be afraid of, and who thought well of him. He grabbed hold of the old man’s hand.

  “Oh, thank you, Monsieur,” he cried. “How very good you are to me!”

  “Zut,” said the old man. “I am lonely, and I have no friends. We can carve together.”

  “And I, too, am lonely and have no friends,” replied Lucien simply.

  As Lucien walked home through the forest, his brain was full of ideas, but there was one big idea more important than all the others. He would make a Noah’s ark for Dani like the old man had done, with dozens of tiny figures—lions, elephants, rabbits, camels, and cows, and Mr. and Mrs. Noah. When it was quite perfect he would walk around to the Burniers’ chalet and give it to Dani as a peace offering. Surely no one could give Dani a better present than that! And after that, perhaps they might even allow him to be just a tiny bit friendly with Dani again.

  His heart beat fast at the very thought of it. For two whole hours he had been completely happy, and his happiness lasted all the way through the forest until the trees parted and he saw the village below him. Tomorrow he would have to go back to school. Tomorrow he would feel lonely and frightened again. But today he had found a friend.

  Three times a week after school Lucien bounded through the quiet pine forest and sat on the step of the old man’s chalet and worked on his Noah’s ark. It was a wonderful thing to use tools with their sharp blades and easy curves—very different from his old penknife.

  The old man marveled at the boy’s skill. The Noah’s ark family grew and grew. Every visit Lucien made, he thought of some new animal to carve, and the procession grew longer and longer.

  There was another excitement for Lucien just about then. An inspector came to school and set up a handcraft competition for the children. The girls were to see who could enter the best piece of knitting, needlework, or lacemaking, and the boys the best piece of wood carving. Many of them whittled away at wood in their spare time, and some were becoming quite skilful.

  “But no one is as skilful as me,” whispered Lucien to himself as he plodded home alone. “I shall win the prize, and then they will know that I can do something well, even if I am stupid at lessons, and even if no one will play with me.”

  Lucien sang on his way home that day. He saw himself walking up for his prize in front of the amazed school. Perhaps they would like him better after that.

  He would carve a horse with a flowing mane, in full gallop, with its tail outstretched and its nostrils dilated. Lucien loved horses. The old man had carved one like that and Lucien had admired it greatly. The Noah’s ark would be finished very soon and then he could start on his little horse.

  He ran straight up to the old man’s house to share the news. The old man was pleased and as sure as Lucien was himself that he would win the competition.

  “But why try a horse?” he asked. “You could enter your Noah’s ark. It is very well done for a boy of your age.”

  Lucien shook his head. “That is a present,” he said firmly.

  “A present? Who for? Your little brother?” “For a little boy who has hurt himself and cannot walk.”

  “Indeed? How did he do that?” “He fell over the ravine.” “Poor little chap. How did that happen?” Lucien did not answer for a moment, but the fact that this old man had become friends with him and been so nice to him made him want to speak the truth. He looked up at last and said, “It was my fault that he fell. I dropped his kitten over and he tried to get it.”

  He could have bitten his tongue out as soon as he said it, for he felt sure the old man would hate him now and drive him away like everybody else.

  But he didn’t. Instead, the old man said very gently, “So that is why you have no friends?”

  “Yes.” “And are you hoping to make things right with this child by making this toy for him?”

  “Yes.” “You are doing a good thing. It is hard work to win back love. But don’t give up. Those who persevere find more happiness in earning love than they do in gaining it.”

  “I don’t quite understand you,” said Lucien thoughtfully.

  “I mean that if you spend your time putting the love of your heart into what you do for those who are not your friends, you may often be disappointed and discouraged. But if you keep on trying you will find your happiness in loving, whether you are loved back or not. You may think it strange that I who live alone and love no one should say all this to you, but I believe it all the same.”

  That evening the Noah’s ark was finished. Lucien, with a flushed face and a hammering
heart, set off for the Burniers’ chalet to leave it on his way home.

  When he came within sight of the chalet, he hid behind a tree in panic. What would he say? How would he break the silence? If he could see Dani alone it would be easier, but Annette was always with him out of school hours.

  Surely they would forgive him when they saw the Noah’s ark! If only they would forgive him and give him a chance, he would gladly spend the rest of his life trying to make up for it. Struggling between hope and fear, Lucien came out from behind his tree and walked toward the chalet.

  Annette was sitting alone outside.

  Lucien swallowed hard, walked up to her, and held out the Noah’s ark.

  “It’s for Dani,” he whispered, and the words seemed to stick in his throat. Looking down at the ground, he held up the box to Annette.

  “How dare you come here!” she burst out. “How dare you offer presents to Dani! Go away. And don’t you ever come here again!”

  As she said it, she kicked the Noah’s ark with all the strength of her young legs into the woodpile below her. All the little animals lay scattered on the logs.

  Lucien stared at her for a moment, then he turned and ran as fast as he could. All his efforts had been for nothing. He would never be forgiven. It had all been one long waste of time.

  Then the old man’s words came into Lucien’s mind like a tiny ray of light in his angry, bitter heart.

  “Those who keep trying find more happiness in earning love than in gaining it.”

  Perhaps it was true. He had certainly not gained anything, but at least he had been happy making the Noah’s ark and thinking of Dani’s pleasure. Perhaps, if he persevered and went on putting his love into his work, someday someone would accept it and love him for it.

  He did not know. But he decided not to give up just yet.

  11

  A Trip to the High Pastures

  Dani’s leg was very slow in healing. Many times the doctor climbed the mountainside to visit him, but he seemed worried and puzzled. The time came for Dani to go back to the hospital and have the plaster taken off. It was then that the doctor broke the news to Dani’s father that, as he had feared all along, Dani would not ever be able to walk properly. His bad leg was much shorter than his good one.

  Feeling very sad indeed, Monsieur Burnier went to the carpenter and asked him to make a tiny pair of crutches. Then he visited the cobbler with a pair of Dani’s boots and asked him to make one sole an inch and a half thicker than the other one.

  The carpenter and the shoemaker were very upset. The carpenter carved little bears’ heads on the handles of the crutches to make Dani smile, and the cobbler returned the boots stuffed with chocolate sticks, and in both cases their efforts were a great success. Dani looked upon his crutches as a new toy and was really impatient to try them out.

  For a day or two he hopped about like an excited grasshopper in front of the house Then he heard his father say that he was going to take his cows up the mountain to feed in the high pastures. Dani sat down and cried loudly, because he suddenly realized that, even with his nice bear crutches and his new boots, he could no longer follow the cows up the mountain.

  Dani did not often bellow, but when he did, he really did! Annette, Monsieur Burnier, and Grandmother all rushed for the woodpile where Dani was crying, and they all started shaking him and kissing him at once. Klaus, who hated lots of noise, arched her back and hissed.

  When at last they understood the reason for Dani’s unhappiness, they all tried to make lots of comforting plans. In the end it was decided that Dani should go down to the marketplace in a little wooden cart to watch the cows gather together, and afterward he would drive up behind the herd in the horse cart, sleep the night in the hay, and come down next day. Annette would go with him, while Grandmother and Klaus stayed at home and kept house.

  The great day dawned clear and blue, and Dani woke early with a feeling that something wonderful was going to happen. When he remembered what it was, he tried to yodel, which he couldn’t do at all, and then dragged Klaus into bed with him and began to tell her all about it. But Klaus was not interested and struggled out again, and went with her tail in the air to catch mice on the woodpile.

  An hour later Dani was curled up in the wood cart and Annette was taking him down to the village. Long before they reached the marketplace they heard the clanging of cowbells, the mooing of frightened cattle, the shouting of men, and the shrill screams of excited children. When they turned the corner by the fountain and bumped down the shallow steps, what a sight greeted them!

  The market was a solid mass of cows and calves all pressed together. They all wore clanging bells and tossed their heads nervously. Here and there cows broke loose and jumped on each other, and over by the grocer’s shop a crowd of young men was shouting at a young bullock who was trying to put his horns through the shop window. In and out among their legs swarmed the children, for this was a great holiday—school was closed.

  In Switzerland, when the grass begins to grow long in the fields, the cows go up the mountains for the summer and feed in the high pastures while the hay ripens in the valleys. The farmers go up and live with them, while the women and children stay behind. On the day when they all set out, the cows are gathered together before starting on their different paths, and the children follow their own cows up to the high pastures and spend the day in the mountains, settling the cows into their new homes.

  When Dani arrived in the marketplace people gathered all around him. Except for his journey to hospital, this was his first public appearance in the village, and everyone wanted to look at him. All the children wanted to pull his cart, and all the women wanted to kiss him. What with the cows and the crowds and the cobbles, it was a wonder he wasn’t tipped right out.

  Time was getting on, and the procession had to start moving. The farmers were drawing their leaders out of the crowd, each group shoving its way out after them. The group leader wore a bigger bell than the rest, and was followed by all the others.

  Monsieur Burnier was drawing out his leader by the collar, and his few cattle were making their way out from the crowd as best as they could. He walked up to Dani’s cart with his hand on the cow’s neck. “The mule cart is waiting around the back of the cobbler’s shop,” he said, “so put Dani into it, Annette, and we will make a start.”

  He went off, rounded up his cows, and set off up the steep steps behind the clock tower looking like a pied piper with a stream of children following him. All the children liked Monsieur Burnier.

  Soon the mule cart caught them up, with Annette holding the reins and clicking her tongue. Dani lay in the back holding his crutches, which he had brought to show to the people in the village, and shouting at the top of his voice.

  Dani never forgot that ride up the mountain. One of the bull calves, called Napoleon, grew tired and started dropping behind, so Dani leaned over and put his hand on his collar and pulled him alongside the cart.

  His father looked back and smiled. “He’s tired, poor young thing,” he said. “You’d better take him in the cart with you, Dani.”

  Father lifted the wobbly-legged creature into the cart, and Dani flung his arms round his woolly neck and shrieked for joy. It was a beautiful calf with gentle eyes, silky ears, and pale, stubby curls on its forehead. They sat watching the forest together, sniffing the scent of the pine trees.

  By the time they came out of the forest they had climbed so high that they could see right over the green mountains that surrounded the valley to the snow-capped ranges beyond, where the snows never melt. Dani lay back, counting the white peaks, and imagined himself in heaven. Then, to make his happiness complete, Annette suddenly produced a long twisty roll and a hunk of cheese and told him to sit up for his dinner. He sat nibbling one end of the hard golden crust while the calf put out its pale pink tongue and licked the other end.

  Annette left the mule to make its own way while she wandered up and down the slopes picking the alpine flowers th
at grew in the high pastures as a present for Grandmother. It occurred to Dani that it would be nice to run up and down the slopes to pick flowers with Annette, but he did not think about it for long. There was so much else to be happy about. Besides, if he had not been lame he would never have had his bear crutches, nor would he have been sitting in the cart with his arms around the bull calf.

  The path turned a hairpin bend around the roots of a great pine tree, and as they turned the corner they came in sight of their summer home—a little shut-up cow barn with one living room joined onto it, standing in the middle of a meadow of yellow flowers. Just behind it rose the last steep slope of the rest of the mountain.

  It seemed very welcoming, this hut, as though it was longing to be opened up and lived in again. The cows moved a little faster at the sight of it, and their lazy bells pealed out merrily.

  A fountain splashed into a wooden trough outside the chalet, and the thirsty cattle plunged their heads into it and enjoyed a long, noisy drink. Dani and the calf tumbled out of the cart and drank, too. Then they all gathered around the door while Monsieur Burnier turned the key in the lock and went in.

  The hut was damp and cold after being buried in snow all winter, but they had brought logs and provisions in the mule cart and soon they had lit a fire. As Annette flung back the shutters, the sun came streaming in, showing up the dust everywhere.

  Around went Annette with a broom and duster, and Dani came hopping behind like a cheerful grasshopper. Monsieur Burnier vanished up a ladder into the loft to bring down armfuls of musty hay for the cows’ bedding. Then it was milking time and the cattle wandered in one by one. After that it was suppertime, and Monsieur Burnier and Annette sat on stools at the table while Dani sat on a rug on the floor because the condition of his legs made stools uncomfortable for him. They ate bread, smoked sausage, and cheese and drank hot coffee out of enormous wooden bowls. It was a lovely meal.

  When he had finished his last mouthful Dani struggled to his feet and held up his arms to his father.