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Boyhood in Norway-Part27_Hjalmar Hjorth Boyesen(1848-1895)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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den with all his might. A sullen growl was heard, like a deep

and menacing thunder. There could be no doubt that now the



monster would take him to task for his impertinence.

Again the boy seized his rifle; and his nerves, though tense as



stretched bow-strings, seemed suddenly calm and steady. He

lifted the rifle to his cheek, and resolved not to shoot until he



had a clear aim at heart or brain. Bruin, though Lars could hear

him rummaging within, was in no hurry to come out, But he sighed



and growled uproariously, and presently showed a terrible,

long-clawed paw, which he thrust out through his door and then



again withdrew. But apparently it took him a long while to get

his mind clear as to the cause of the disturbance; for fully five



minutes had elapsed when suddenly a big tuft of moss was tossed

out upon the snow, followed by a cloud of dust and an angry



creaking of the tree-roots.

Great masses of snow were shaken from the swaying tops of the



firs, and fell with light thuds upon the ground. In the face of

this unexpectedshower, which entirely hid the entrance to the



den, Lars was obliged to fall back a dozen paces; but, as the

glittering drizzle cleared away, he saw an enormous brown beast



standing upon its hind legs, with widely distended jaws. He was

conscious of no fear, but of a curious numbness in his limbs, and



strange noises, as of warning shouts and cries, filling his ears.

Fortunately, the great glare of the sun-smitten snow dazzled



Bruin; he advanced slowly, roaring savagely, but staring rather

blindly before him out of his small, evil-looking eyes.



Suddenly, when he was but a few yards distant, he raised his

great paw, as if to rub away the cobwebs that obscured his sight.



It was the moment for which the boy had waited. Now he had a

clear aim! Quickly he pulled the trigger; the shot reverberated



from mountain to mountain, and in the same instant the huge brown

bulk rolled in the snow, gave a gasp, and was dead! The spell



was broken! The silver bullet had pierced his heart. There was

a curious unreality about the whole thing to Lars. He scarcely



knew whether he was really himself or the hero of the fairy-tale.

All that was left for him to do now was to go home and marry



Stella, the delivered princess.

The noises about him seemed to come nearer and nearer; and now



they sounded like human voices. He looked about him, and to his

amazement saw his father and Marit, followed by two wood-cutters,



who, with raised axes, were running toward him. Then he did not

know exactly what happened; but he felt himself lifted up by two



strong arms, and tears fell hot and fast upon his face.

"My boy! my boy!" said the voice in his ears, "I expected to



find you dead."

"No, but the bear is dead," said Lars, innocently.



"I didn't mean to tell on you, Lars," cried Marit, "but I was so

afraid, and then I had to."



The rumor soon filled the whole valley that the great Gausdale

Bruin was dead, and that the boy Lars Tomlevold had killed him.



It is needless to say that Lars Tomlevold became the parish hero

from that day. He did not dare to confess in the presence of all



this praise and wonder that at heart he was bitterly

disappointed; for when he came home, throbbing with wild



expectancy, there stood Stella before the kitchen door, munching

a piece of bread; and when she hailed him with a low whinny, he



burst into tears. But he dared not tell any one why he was

weeping.



This story might have ended here, but it has a little sequel.

The $1,750 which Bruin had to his credit in the bank had



increased to $2,290; and it was all paid to Lars. A few years

later, Martin Janson, who had inherited the estate of Moe from



old Lars, failed in consequence of his daring forest

speculations, and young Lars was enabled to buy the farm at



auction at less than half its value. Thus he had the happiness

to bring his mother back to the place of her birth, of which she



had been wrongfully deprived; and Stella, who was now twenty-one

years old, occupied once more her handsome box-stall, as in the



days of her glory. And although she never proved to be a

princess, she was treated as if she were one, during the few



years that remained to her.

End




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