Song of Sampo Lake

by William Durbin

  “That’s right,” Mother said, squeezing Matti’s hand.

  Matti thought back to how angry he’d been at Uncle Wilho’s death. It still hurt to think of him being gone, yet he knew that he would always be a better person because of what his uncle had given him. He recalled a day back in Finland when he was a little boy and feeling sorry for himself. Uncle Wilho had tapped his shoulder and said, “Life’s too short for that, Matti. If you weep in this house, you weep alone.”

  A part of Matti would always miss his pet, just as he would always mourn the loss of Uncle Wilho. Yet crying served no purpose.

  Just then Mother surprised Matti by chuckling. “Would you look at that?” she said, pointing toward the doorstep. Yrjo was staring into the southern sky, with the closest thing to a smile that a cat can muster.

  “There’s one member of the family who isn’t going to shed any tears today,” Matti said.

  CHAPTER 26

  In mid-November the weather turned cold, and life on the homestead fell into a winter routine of chopping wood, hauling water, and hiking to the Saaris’ and the store. As the snows deepened, Matti became especially lonesome for Finland. When he used Uncle Wilho’s skis to pack a trail to the store, he kept wishing that Paavo and Juha could be there to test the hills with him. During the winters back home, he and his friends often went on cross-country ski treks. A Saturday was a disappointment if they couldn’t get in a twenty-mile loop before suppertime.

  Now that it was winter Timo had switched from driving a wagon to a sleigh, and he was busy six and sometimes seven days a week. Once he stopped by the store and told Matti, “The teamster business is going so well that I might not be able to visit the farm until Christmas. In the meantime here’s a little something for Mother’s grocery fund.” To Matti’s surprise he handed him three silver dollars.

  Though Matti had dreaded his trips to the Saaris’ at first, he found that his tutoring offered relief from the boredom of their dim little cabin. It was pitch dark when Matti rose in the morning to feed and water the mules, and it was dark before they sat down to supper. Lately Anna’s and Kari’s tempers had matched the ever shrinking daylight. It took no more than a cross look from one or the other to get them quarreling.

  Luckily Anna and Kari were getting along better with the Saari boys than they were with each other. Little Ukko was especially fond of Kari. Even when the girls switched coats and dresses to trick the boys, Ukko could always tell them apart.

  Since the time of the accident, Anna had become attached to Mrs. Saari. After she finished her lessons she lingered in Mrs. Saari’s kitchen and asked questions about the mysterious-smelling herbs and flowers.

  At home the girls divided their time between making candles, carding the big bag of wool that Hilda had left with Mother, and tying rugs. Carding the raw wool into “logs” for Mother’s spinning wheel was a never ending job. As the fibers whirled through her fingers, Mother kept an eye on her log supply. “Speed up that carding,” she’d say, “my basket is getting low.” Matti got tired of the constant hum of the spinning wheel and the click of the knitting needles. He was also bored by Mother telling him and the girls how much she missed the loom she had left back in Kuopio.

  Mother expected Matti to help the girls with the carding when he was inside, so he made sure he had lots of outside work to do. In addition to hauling milk from the Saaris’, he had to split kindling, carry firewood, empty the slop pail, and feed and water the mules.

  Matti was also quick to volunteer for trips to the root cellar whenever Mother needed vegetables or smoked meat. During the bright cold days he enjoyed stepping through the doors of the root cellar and smelling the musty odor of unfrozen ground. It was like traveling back to a cool autumn day scented with a hint of rain.

  Sawing and splitting firewood became a nearly full-time job in itself. Since the range was made for cooking rather than heating, it used up twice the wood. The small firebox meant that Matti had to cut the wood in short lengths, doubling his time with the bucksaw. Matti or Mother had to get up at least twice every night to load the stove, too. The floor was so cold that Matti’s bare feet ached for a long time after he’d climbed back under his blankets.

  Uncle Wilho had often said, “The pleasure of firewood comes from the fact that it warms you thrice: once in the cutting, once in the carrying, and once in the burning.” Wilho forgot to add hauling out the ashes, an endless task because of their leaky old wood range.

  Even a simple job such as filling the water pails became a taxing labor when winter arrived. Matti had to chop through the ice every morning. Even when he laid boards over the top, it had a thick skim by lunchtime. His wet mittens froze to the handle of the pail, and his hands burned from the biting wind. With the effort it took to haul and heat the water, washing clothes was an all-day job for the family.

  For fun indoors Matti sang silly songs with the girls (their favorite was about a half-blind tailor who sewed people’s pant legs shut), and he showed them a button game, where they spun a button up and down a thread stretched between their fingers. As Matti passed the button on, he made everyone answer a question in English. When it was Mother’s turn, he tricked her with a string of b’s and d’s: “Did the duck drop the bad baby in the brook?”

  Mother stumbled with the difficult letters, laughing just as hard as Anna and Kari.

  Matti’s other winter “jobs” were hunting and fishing. Though Matti pretended it was hard work, he enjoyed getting outside. When he had good luck fishing, Mother boiled up a pot of kalakeitto, a fish and potato soup. By carrying the Springfield with him to the store, Matti often brought home a rabbit or a partridge.

  On the first weekend that Father returned from the logging camp, Mother cooked roast partridge, and the girls gave Father big welcome home hugs. Father teased the girls, and he thanked Matti for saving his sister from her “ice diving.”

  Late in the afternoon, however, Father’s mood quieted. While he was filling his packsack to return to the camp, Mother asked, “What’s wrong, Leo?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, “but I’m going to be a wood butcher.”

  When Mother frowned, he explained, “That’s a kind of carpenter. We build and repair the sleighs, wagons, and water barrels.”

  “That sounds like a good job,” she said.

  “It’s a fine job,” Father said. “The problem is, I’ll have to work weekends. Sunday is the only day we can repair equipment, and we’re so far behind that there won’t be any days off.”

  “So you’ll not be coming home next weekend?”

  “I can quit.” Father stood up. “We could get by if—”

  “No,” Mother said. “We have no choice.”

  Father nodded. “The boss has promised to give me time off on Thanksgiving weekend. So I’ll be home in just a couple of weeks.”

  Matti and the twins walked Father all the way to the depot. He knelt and hugged both girls at once. “Be good, you two, and”—he turned to Anna—“no more testing the ice.”

  Anna nodded as Kari squeezed her hand and said, “We’ll make sure she’s careful, Father.”

  Father reshouldered his pack and shook Matti’s hand. “I know I can count on you.”

  The next day Mother sent Matti to the root cellar to get some potatoes. “That father of yours ate up every single one.”

  Even before Matti got to the cellar, he felt as if something was wrong. Katie was eeoowing strangely up in the barn, and the hay in front of the door was disturbed. He ran to find that the door had been forced open. Deep claw marks scarred the wood. Matti started down the steps and then stopped. Bears should be hibernating by now. But what if one were still inside? He made sure the doors were open wide in case he had to run.

  The stink of rotten fish rose from the cellar. When he got inside, the dirt floor was littered with broken canning jars. The bear had licked up every bit of food and raked the potatoes and carrots onto the floor. The haunch of smoked venison that they’d hung from the c
eiling was gone, too. Matti thought he’d seen the worst until he looked in the corner and gagged at the big pile of bear droppings.

  The joke that Father made last fall about this cellar being the storeroom of the witch Louhi was no longer funny. An evil witch could not have done more damage with a spell. Just then Matti heard something behind him. Had the bear returned?

  “Matti? Are you all right?” It was Mother.

  It took all day to clean up the mess. The few potatoes and carrots that weren’t chewed up stunk so bad from fish juice and bear drool that Matti had to take them down to the lake and wash them. Then Mother spread them in front of the stove to dry.

  Kari wrinkled her nose and said, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to eat a potato again after seeing that awful bear…” As she searched for a word, Anna said, “Bear slime.”

  “You’ll eat what we have,” Mother snapped, but when she saw Kari’s eyes well up with tears, she gave her a hug.

  While the vegetables dried, Matti took a shovel and scraped the floor of the root cellar clean. Then he nailed some spikes through the door from the inside, leaving the sharp points sticking out.

  Try clawing your way past that, he said to himself.

  Matti spent every free moment trying to restock their depleted larder. He knew he had to work fast, because fish and game became scarce in midwinter. He hunted each morning and evening, and fished during the day.

  Matti didn’t want to frighten the girls with their food problem, yet he needed their help. On Sunday night he said, “Beginning tomorrow, we are going to cancel school and have a week-long fishing contest.”

  Anna looked confused. “Is this an American holiday?”

  “Like Pikkujoulu or Vappu back home?” Kari added.

  “This is called Sampo Lake Week,” Matti said.

  “And we get to fish all week long?” Anna asked.

  “Yes.”

  The girls looked at each other. Then they raised their arms and cheered.

  The next morning Matti rigged up two extra jigging sticks and tied on heavy lines and large snelled hooks. When they stepped out onto the ice, Anna shrank back. “Are you scared?” Matti asked.

  She nodded. Matti dropped to one knee and put his arm around her shoulders. “I wouldn’t take you out on the lake if the ice weren’t safe,” he said. “Let me show you.”

  Matti took a few steps, scraped back the snow with his boot, and chopped down with his axe. “Come and see,” he said, chopping until he broke through.

  Anna looked down into the hole. Matti hooked the edge of his axe on the ice and showed her the depth. “Look how thick it is,” he said, “and how solid.” Matti jumped up and down.

  Matti chopped two holes at the edge of a weed bed and hooked a thin piece of side pork on a line for himself. “Why do you have such a small hook, Matti?” Kari asked, feeling sorry for him.

  “I want to catch a fish for bait.” A moment later Matti pulled in a perch and cut two strips of meat to bait their hooks.

  Kari wrinkled up her nose, but she and Anna giggled when Matti called out, “Let the official Sampo Lake Week begin.

  “Now jig your sticks up and down,” Matti said.

  Matti was just tying on a heavy line and hook of his own when Kari squealed and pulled in a big northern. Then before he could pick up his fishing rig, Anna caught one, too.

  “Whose is bigger?” Anna asked.

  “Mother will be the judge of the contest,” Matti said, slipping the fish into a gunnysack.

  The girls kept Matti so busy baiting their hooks that he didn’t get his own line into the water at all. Luckily the sun was warm and he could leave his mitts off.

  During lunch the girls asked who was leading the contest. Mother said, “It is too close to tell right now.”

  “But Kari caught two more fish than I did,” Anna said.

  “That’s right,” Matti said, “but Mother counts the weight, too, when she figures the total points.”

  It started snowing that afternoon, so they went inside to help Mother with the cleaning. That evening Matti tried hunting, but the snow was blowing so hard that he couldn’t see.

  When Matti took the girls out on the lake the next morning, a cold front moved in. The wind shifted to the north, and the girls were soon shivering. Matti chopped a dozen holes, but they had no luck. “Sampo Lake Week is no fun anymore,” Anna said.

  Kari nodded and said, “I’d rather have school.”

  Anna finally hooked a walleye, but she wet her mittens as she pulled it in and started crying. Matti gave her his mittens. Then, cradling the gunnysack under his arm and sticking his hands in his pockets, he led the girls back home.

  Overnight the snow drifted deep over the meadow and the lake. Matti tried fishing on his own, but he caught only two little perch. To make matters worse, the cold front stayed all week. When Matti told the girls that the contest had ended in a tie, neither of them seemed to care.

  If only Timo or Father were home. With a partner Matti could range as far as he needed to in search of fish and game. For now he would have to stick close to the cabin and try to solve the problem on his own.

  CHAPTER 27

  “Oatmeal again!” Kari said.

  “Better a spoonful of porridge than an empty pot, Miss Ruusunukke” Mother said.

  For days Mother’s purse had been empty and the family had been living off Matti’s wages from the store. All Matti could afford to buy on his own was flour, lard, and oatmeal. Since the bear’s raid, they had mainly been living on fried bread and oatmeal.

  When Matti was chopping wood all by himself, he sometimes got angry at Timo and Father for being gone. Why couldn’t Timo at least stop by with a few more silver dollars? Why should it all fall on his shoulders? What made it most difficult was knowing that no matter how hard he worked, it wouldn’t matter in the end, because Father would be following custom and passing his farm on to Timo.

  But whenever Matti started to feel sorry for himself, he thought about Black Jack. Though Black Jack had been shunned by his family, forced to live as a beggar, and lost his leg, his job, and his homeland, he had refused to give up. If Black Jack had struggled through all that, Matti should at least be able to handle his chores without complaint.

  Mrs. Winston helped cheer the girls up by sending them treats. Once she even handed Matti a whole tin of crackers, saying, “That Billy has overordered again. You take these home to the twins.”

  Mother accepted the gifts in the same way that she accepted their misfortune. “All things are ordained,” she told the girls.

  Matti preferred to believe that he controlled his own life. Why bother to live if every moment is plotted out ahead of time? Matti tried to cheer the twins up by continuing to play games and tell stories. He was also quick to remind them that Father would soon be returning from the lumber camp with extra money.

  When Matti got ready to leave for work the next Saturday, the air was unusually warm. A light breeze blew out of the southwest, and the sky was summer blue. By the time Matti got to the store, his skis were sticking to the warm snow.

  Billy and his customers were in a good mood due to the fine weather. However, by midafternoon a low bank of clouds had crept in, and a few wet snowflakes were ticking against the front windows. When Matti carried a sack of flour to a wagon an hour later, the wind had switched to the north.

  Karl Gustafson stuck his head in the door and said, “It’s snowing so hard back in Tower that the whole town has shut down.”

  “Is it coming this way?” Billy asked.

  “No doubt,” Karl said.

  Billy turned to Matti. “You’d better spend the night here.”

  Matti thought about how Mother would worry and shook his head.

  “If that storm is coming from the north—”

  “I can ski home in just a few minutes.”

  “Well, if you’re set on going, you’d better scoot,” he said.

  Matti poled down the trail. The track wa
s fast and icy. On the first hill Matti’s skis made a loud whirring sound, and he glided twice as far with each kick as he had in the morning. With every turn in the trail the sky darkened and the snow got heavier.

  As Matti skied out of a sheltered stand of balsam and turned north, a gust of wind stood him straight up. Matti wheeled his arms to keep his balance, and his cap blew off. When he turned to grab for his cap, his ski tips crossed, and he fell backward into the snow. He laughed out loud.

  In the short time that it took Matti to scramble to his feet, the wind had gotten stronger. He couldn’t believe how quickly the temperature had dropped. Now that his mitts were wet, he could already feel his fingers going numb.

  Lowering his head, he dug in his poles and kicked forward. The wind made it difficult to catch his breath. He stayed low and squinted as the storm-driven snow peppered his face like hot buckshot. It was so hard to see that his ski tip caught in the brush. He spun in a half-circle and almost fell again.

  This time Matti didn’t laugh. He stopped, panting. The whiteout was nearly total. The wind was whipping straight into his face, and the tops of the pines behind him whistled like a wood flute stuck on a high note. He heard a sharp crack as a branch broke loose and crashed to the ground. Though he could see the ski track at his feet, he was blinded the moment he lifted his eyes.

  One thing was clear. He wasn’t going to make it home. Matti tried to think things through. He could ski back to the store, or he could take shelter in the balsams and break off a pile of boughs to shield himself from the wind. Then he remembered that he’d forgotten his matches. Without a fire he’d have no chance of surviving the night.

  The more Matti thought about what could happen, the closer he got to panicking. He was ready to try a wild sprint toward the homestead when he thought of a third choice. What about Black Jack’s cabin? He was close to the southwest shore of the lake. But could he find the trail that led to the cabin?