Such thoughts comforted Turgen and softened his dread of having to part with Lad.
With freedom to move about, young Lad joyfully took over the yurta. Each day he became more attached to Turgen, following at his heels like a dog as he went about his chores. The clearing outside the yurta he also considered to be his special province and he made no move to run away even when he was once allowed to go without collar or leash.
His eyes questioned sometimes when the day was clear and the breeze fresh off the hills: “Tell me—what of my family?” And at such times Turgen answered: “They are well, believe me. And you are remembered. I see the old ram often. When you return you must assure him that I was good to you.” When Lad shook his head, pirouetted and leaped for glee, Turgen took his antics to mean: “Ay—I certainly will.”
It was one day when Lad was frolicking in the clearing and dancing on his hind legs that the drunkard Nikita happened along and saw him. Mistaking the lamb for the devil, Nikita fled shouting down the mountain while Lad, equally alarmed by the strange voice, rushed to Turgen for protection.
Turgen guessed the cause of Nikita’s terror. “What a fool!” he remarked to the flying figure. “Now he will spread more lies about me. But what can one do? To shoot at a rock is but a waste of arrows.”
That same evening Marfa reported the excitement in the valley when Nikita spread the news of what he had seen. “He was like a madman,” she said sharply, “shouting that he saw you at play with the devil and the devil must be killed. When I noticed people listening to him, I gave them a piece of my mind. I told them what they already knew if their heads were not stuffed with hay—that there isn’t a better man among them than you. No, nor a better hunter or fisherman. They are envious—that is all. So they believe an idler whose words are worth nothing. With his drunken eyes he saw a wild ram. Tphoo! Of course he lied.”
Tim and Aksa looked at their mother in amazement. This was not the gentle woman they knew.
Turgen shook his head regretfully. “Thank you, Marfa, but you shouldn’t fret yourself so. Remember that dry mud won’t stick to a wall. And to listen to gossip is like bailing out water with a sieve. It is true that Nikita saw a wild ram lamb with me. Not a full grown ram but a lamb which fell from a cliff and was injured. Since I have been caring for him he has become almost tame. That is all. There is no sorcery about it. Perhaps I should have told you. But as you know, I am not much of a talker.”
Tim and Aksa listened, their eyes burning with curiosity and excitement. They were afraid to ask questions before their mother’s anger had cooled.
Marfa herself was surprised by what Turgen told her, but after a moment’s thought she declared vehemently, “Well, what’s so remarkable about your caring for a poor little lamb? The fools might better wonder at your kindness and your skill than spread these silly stories. And I shall tell them so.”
Marfa shook her fist as warning to those “dumb ones.” Then to the children’s delight she asked Turgen to stay for a cup of tea. Now they would hear more about Turgen’s surprising guest. A mountain lamb! Surely this was the finest of all possible treasures. But to their disappointment Turgen was not in a mood to talk, and in fear of their mother they held their itching tongues.
CHAPTER 20
WALKING HOME THAT EVENING, TURGEN WAS TROUBLED as he thought over what Marfa had told him.
“Such silly tattle can do me no harm,” he reasoned, “but what if someone takes it into his stupid head to sneak up the hill and shoot Lad? So long as he stays with me there will be this danger. I must give him back to his family as quickly as possible. There in the mountains he will have protection.”
The resolution did not make him happy, especially when he saw how Lad welcomed him and clung to him.
“How strange,” Turgen thought, “that a wild animal can understand affection while people, who should be wiser, can not.”
For a long time he could not fall asleep but tossed from side to side thinking of the empty days ahead when he would be alone again. Weariness finally won, however, just as he was praying: “Great Spirit, have pity on me … help me … teach me.”
Then Turgen dreamed. In his dream it was raining and there were loud crashes of thunder following upon lightning. He went out of the yurta just in time to see the Great Spirit rush past. But so swift was his flight that Turgen had no time to utter a word. Bitterly disappointed, he returned indoors, thinking, ‘‘Evidently I am unworthy to talk to Him.”
But hardly had he lain down again when someone knocked on the door.
“Come in, come in,” Turgen called, and the door opened to admit a gray-haired old man who looked strangely like himself. He carried a staff in his hand and a pack on his back.
The visitor bowed, saying, “Thank you, Turgen, for your invitation. It is raining and I am tired. You live so far from me.”
Turgen, delighted to have company, begged his guest, “Come, sit closer to the fire, friend, and rest yourself. I will get you something to eat.” Then, struck by the old man’s appearance, he added: “Why do you climb mountains in this weather at your age? You’re not strong enough for that. You see my yurta—it is spacious and I live here alone, except for this lamb. But I must return him soon to his family. Won’t you stay and make your home with me?”
It didn’t surprise Turgen that Lad awoke just then, jumped from his corner, and going over to the visitor placed his head on the old man’s knees. The visitor stroked him as he said, “You are a good boy and you fell into the hands of a good man.”
Turgen, rejoicing at such praise, replied: ‘The lamb and his family are a worry to me because people hunt them, even though they are harmless. It is my belief that they should be allowed to live in freedom and peace like …” He was about to say, “like the birds and beasts who dwell with the Great Spirit,” but something told him that his guest already knew what was in his mind for he was nodding. “There is a whole tribe of wild rams not far from here,” Turgen went on. “Splendid animals. While I am alive I’ll see that no one molests them. But I am old and alone. Who will look after them when I die?”
Instead of giving him the sympathy he expected, the old man burst out in anger: “Alone, alone! And whose fault is that? Your own. Happiness is right under your nose, but you don’t see it. You are blind as a bat! Why don’t you ask Marfa and her children to share your yurta with you? She is a fine woman, and so are the children.”
“You know,’ Turgen replied, taken aback, “I never thought of that. But it is not yet too late.”
“Don’t wait too long,” the visitor advised him. “Inquire of your heart and act as it prompts you. In such matters the heart is better than the head.”
Turgen started to say that he agreed but would have to consult Marfa—and what would the Yakuts say who called him a sorcerer?
But the old man answered him before he could speak: “Don’t let this disturb you. Marfa and the children will be delighted. As for the Yakuts—don’t pay any attention to them. It is not that they are evil, only ignorant. Believe me.”
At this moment, before he could thank the visitor for his advice, Turgen awoke. So real was his dream that he could not rid himself of it. “Amazing,” he murmured. “A miracle.”
The yurta was quiet. The fire in the komelek was dying. The lamb slept peacefully in his corner.
Being a man of simple faith, Turgen did not doubt that the dream was a sign given him by unknown powers. Had he wanted to ask Marfa before to bring the children and share his yurta? If so, he would never have found the courage alone to speak to her of his desire. The dream made everything simple and right. He had begged the Great Spirit for help, and help was given him in the form of advice. Now he had only to act.
It was Lad who roused Turgen from his reflections by butting him gently and crying, “Ma-a, Ma-a …”
“Yes, yes,” he agreed. “It is nearly daylight and time to get up and you are hungry. Come, well have breakfast and off well go.”
Although it was the last meal the
y would have together, Turgen was not sad. Two thoughts were uppermost in his mind: Lad was going back to his family where he belonged, and Turgen would soon have a family of his own to love and care for.
CHAPTER 21
RESOLUTELY TURGEN SET OFF FOR THE FEEDING GROUND with a bundle of hay slung over his shoulder and the lamb skipping along by his side. They might have been out for one of their usual walks. But as they approached the clearing Turgen noted how the lamb hesitated and looked about him expectantly.
“Something tells him that he has been in this place before,” thought Turgen. The thought made him happy and filled him with inner peace …
Suddenly Lad turned sharply and sang out in his youthful voice—“Ma-a, Ma-a.”
In reply came the same call, but more strongly and Turgen, searching the cliffs, saw the old ram standing in his full magnificence as if frozen to the rocky promontory. There was amazement in the look he directed at the man and the returned lamb.
Turgen shouted: “Come, old man. Come here and accept your son. You see, I did bring him back to you. As you can see, he is well and happy.”
In answer, the ram raised his head and sent a bellow—“Ma-a, ma-a”—echoing around the hills. Joy, surprise, and anxiety were in his voice, Turgen understood. For how could this savage be expected to trust his old enemy man ?
While the ram stood there irresolute, not quite able to believe his eyes, Lad whirled in a frenzy of excitement and started toward the cliff. Memory guided him and he ran along the same stone bridge from which he had fallen. But Turgen had no fear for him now. “Take care of yourself, Lad,” he called. “Good-by, my dear!”
Upon hearing his voice the lamb stopped briefly to send back an affectionate—”Ma-a, ma-a.” It was both “Good-by” and “Thank you.” With that he disappeared around a bend.
For a moment both rams were lost to view. Then they reappeared on the cliff together—the old fellow and the youngster who was so like him.
Turgen greeted them joyfully: “I can see that you are glad to have Lad back and safe. He will tell you that people are not all evil.”
The rams answered him in soft chorus, and vanished. But they would return—again and again. Of that Turgen was certain. There was a pact between them now that could not be broken. Turgen would feed the family and protect them from hunters. The old ram, so wise and strong, would guard the herd against other enemies such as wolves and bears.
“Until some day Lad grows up and takes his place as leader,” Turgen promised. He was confident that he could foretell this much of the future.
CHAPTER 22
TURGEN HAD KNOWN MARFA AS A FRIEND FOR MANY years, but it had never entered his head to suggest that she and her children share his life. Now here he was on his way to her, his mind filled with this very idea. Yet the nearer he came to her yurta the more absurd he appeared to himself. He was tortured with doubts.
What was a man of his age to say to her? “Look Marfa—I live alone, make my own fires, do my own cooking and sewing, and worry about no one but myself. It’s not natural. So I have come to ask you to be my wife.”
Certainly a sensible woman like Marfa could only say, “Why, you old fogey, are you out of your senses? What would the neighbors think if I went to live with you, whom they consider a sorcerer?”
Such thoughts made Turgen’s legs grow cold and his feet drag. Still, he reminded himself, he was following a dream. The Great Spirit had spoken to him, and he believed.
Nothing was as he imagined it. Perhaps it was that heart spoke to heart. At any rate, the moment he entered the yurta, Marfa gave one glance at him and exclaimed:
“Turgen, your face shines like a nicely polished copper kettle! Something wonderful must have happened to you! Is that true? Tell me.”
Turgen thought, “How could I have doubted my dream? I did not know how to speak and she has prompted me. But I’ll lead up to the question gradually.”
To Marfa he said: “You see, today I returned Lad to his family. I fulfilled the promise made to the Great Spirit. It was good, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Marfa answered, perplexed, “but why are you so happy? I thought you were very much attached to him. And now you’ll be alone again.”
“Yes, Marfa, but listen. I rejoice because the wild rams are my own. I have had a sign. They will stay and I will look after them. Don’t you understand that the Great Spirit himself has talked to me and thanked me?”
“Wait, wait, Turgen,” Marfa interrupted. “I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying. I believe in the good spirits, but I can’t say that I have ever talked with them. I’ve never even seen them in a dream. Are you sure you are in your right mind?” There was anxiety in her voice.
Turgen smiled as he said firmly, “I am not out of my mind. Listen to this—” And he told her from beginning to end how he had become interested in the starving rams, how he had tended them and saved the lamb. He told her too about his marvelous dreams. It seemed to him that never before in his life had he been so eloquent.
Toward the end, looking at Marfa’s attentive, smiling face, Turgen knew without doubt that she understood everything he would say.
When he had finished she put her hand on his head affectionately as if he were one of her children and said: “You are a good man, Turgen … And your dreams are good, too. I wish nothing better for myself or for the children. I know that they love you. We will all be happy. And once we are living as husband and wife, people will stop their evil gossip.”
She turned to Tim and Aksa, who were listening with curiosity and whispering to each other. “Children, Turgen will live with us from now on. Are you glad?”
“Yes, yes!” they answered, their voices eager, their eyes sparkling. They were delighted.
CHAPTER 23
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 bi
rd-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.”
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