Democratic Sentinel, Volume 18, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 March 1894 — THE RED FORESTER. [ARTICLE]

THE RED FORESTER.

BY JANE L. ROBERTS.

One fine day in October three children were merrily at play on the outskirts of one of the grand old forests that are found on the Baltic shore. The pretty red and yellow leaves under their feet afforded them immense delight as they massed them into a pile, upon which the three-year-old Elsa was seated in great contentment, making the bright things fly in all directions with the stick in her hand. The eldest child, a boy of ten, had a kind, thoughtful face; the other, a happy and light-hearted boy of eight, did not*rest until he, too, had found a good, stout stick, with which he aided his sister in scattering the fluttering leaves to the four winds. Suddenly the air about them was darkened, and over their heads a great bird came flying low with flapping wings and dismal croak. Down it came on the pile of leaves beside the little one. Its eyes were keen and piercing, and the child gave a scream of terror as it looked into her face with a hoarse cry. In a moment the older boy had caught up his brother’s stick and, aiming two or three stout blows at the bird’s head, laid it lifeless. As he took Elsa in his arms and soothed her the younger boy examined the raven. “Oh, Hans,’’ said he, “I fear that was one of the Red Forester’s birds, it is so large and its look is so evil. Old Walther says sorrow comes to any who molest them.’’ “Mother says old Walther is not always truthful,” answered Hans, “We must not mind his stories. Leave the bird, Otto. Come, the wind is cool, and Mother will look for the baby now.” Two or three hundred yards from where the children played might be seen the straw-thatched roof of their little home, and from the sand bluffs before the cottage one had a view of miles of seacoast. To-day the waves rippled and danced in the sunlight as if no storms could ever disturb their calm. At anchor near the shore lay a number of fishing boats, making a pretty bit of color with their copperhued sails; and the white, sandy beach was covered for a long stretch with the nets hung out to dry on the endless frames, showing plainly the general occupation of the breadwinners of that pretty village nestling between the forest and shore. Fisher Muller and his wife, although simple folks, were superior to the people with whom their lot was cast. In Jiis youth the fisher had hoped to attain some better station; but the military service of his country held him' the best years of his life, and he returned from service to find the only means left him of procuring a livelihood was to follow his father’s calling, and so he continued to be a fisherman.

Frau Muller was gentle and thoughtful, and, as the little home was well bended and snug, they were content and only longed for something better for their children. The mother met the children at the dqor and, taking Elsa from Hans, asked the reason of her cry. The boy eagerly told the story of the great bird that would have eaten Elsa’s eyes, but that Hans gave him a whack in time. “Mother,”, said Hans, “Otto says the Red Forester will punish me. Old Walther told him so.” “ What did Walther tell you about the Red Forester 1 ” said the mother. “ Have you not heard of the old red man?” asked Otto. “ What about him?” said Frau Muller, as she clasped Elsa close in her arms and pressed her lips to the rosy cheeks. “He has a castle in the wildest and darkest part of the forest, but no one ever returns that seeks it; and if one kill his favorite bird, the raven, sorrow will come—bitter sorrow.” As the boy told his story, darkness had come on and the wind began to moan round the house. The mother sat quiet, with her baby asleep on her knee. “Mother,” said Hans, troubled at her silence, “ you don’t speak; do you believe old Walther’s story?” ‘‘No, Hans,” said the mother; ‘‘but you should have tried to frighten away the bird before killing it.” Poor Hans. He felt sad and heavyhearted. His mother’s face wore a troubled look, he was sure. And this was true; for the entire force of fishermen were out at sea, and old Walther had called to tell her a heavy storm was brewing; many shooting stars had been seen the night before, showing clearly from which direction to expect the wind. Did she not recall the woe the last October storm had brought to three families? Indeed, she remembered it only too vividly. The wind as it blew stronger sounded more and more dreadful to her. If, as last year, they were driven far out, it would be days before all could return; until then what terrible anxiety I The sight of a great pair of boots in the corner made her shudder, for she knew they were the fisherman’s doom. Weighted down by these heavy rubber things, which

are buckled securely about the legs and loins, there is no possible chance for a man to save himself in the water. And thus it is that none of ’ the fishers learn to swim, preferring I the drowning agonies to be over as soon as possible. Frau Muller rose at length and put the little one to bed, not dreaming that Hans was watching every look. Old Walther’s forecast was indeed true, and before morning the sea was terrific to look upon. The rain fell in sheets, and the beautiful leaves of yesterday lay sodden and colorless when the children looked in dismay from the windows. Could things change so quickly? The next day the storm grew still more furious. The mother’s heart became as lead. Her husband had gone from his home young and strong. Was he never to return? She would not, could not believe it. The second night of the storm she was startled by a cry of pain from Hans, and running to his bedside she found him sitting up, white with terror. “Mother, the raven wants my father’s life or mine. It came to me in my sleep.” “My child, pray for your father’s life; he needs all our prayers,” she answered, full of her sad forebodings. The boy was in despair; did his mother really think he had brought trouble on his home? Would the Red Forester demand an equivalent? The little fellow spent the next day in a dazed condition. His mother was too full of anxieties to notice that he neither ate nor spoke. One thought grew stronger in his mind as the storm increased. He would find the abode of the Red Forester. What was his life if only his father was saved to the rest? As the third morning dawned the storm was lessening; but when no boats came in all was gloom and sorrow. The old men shook their heads as they looked on the sea. No doubt some had gone out who would never return. The little fellow’s brain was distracted. It was still early morning. The mother slept, worn out with care. He must go at once. Putting on his old jacket and looking his last on all he loved, the little fellow made his way into the wildest and most unfrequented part of the wood. He was a good walker and strong enough for his age, but his condition of mind for the last three days had brought on a feverish state; for he had neither eaten nor slept save to dream of horrors. Hans had not walked far in the cold, damp place before his limbs began to fail him. A few hours found him in a strange, lifeless condition, with only one idea before him, to go deeper and deeper into the black, untrodden wilds. By and by the fever took possession of his reason, and he began to mutter as he walked: ‘ ‘Oh, my father, my life for yours; spar? my father!” Hours went by and still he walked on, not knowing how he moved. The darkness came on early, and the boy began to fall in his weakness. All at once he found himself in a clear space, in the middle of which a great fire was burning. Had he indeed found the Red Forester! Yes; it must be so. A man in a red gown and a golden cap was feeding the fire with .fierce delight. He would be burnt alive. That would be his fate. But what did it matter? He could not suffer more than he had done. He made an attempt to attract the red man’s notice, but could not. His strength was gone, and, tottering nearer the dread being with the cry, “My father, save my father!” Hans fell down beside the fire unconscious.

It was a most surprised old gentleman into whose presence the boy had tumbled. Lovingly and tenderly he carried the child into a warm, pleasant room where all was done to restore him. His wet clothing was removed ; and although Hans felt the comfort of a warm bed, still, all night long he tossed and cried in fever; “My father, oh, Red Forester, my father!” It was into a hunting lodge of one of the royal family that Hans had wandered. The old gentleman, who looked so fierce in the glare of the fire, was a most benevolent and gentle doctor of eminence, a friend of the Prince. The gnats had troubled him so during the day that a fire had been made to attract them from the lodge. “I shall never be thankful enough that I made the fire,” said the doctor, as he worked over the child. “Thank God, too, I have my medicine chest; what could the child mean about his father? Well, had he lain out there all night no mortal help could have saved him.” By morning the doctor had done much to reduce the fever, and when Hans opened his eyes at last to consciousness the red man stood at the door looking out. The child glanced around. What bad come to him? What place was this, so warm and beautiful, yet fearful? The skins of animals hung everywhere; not only skins but heads with eyes, living eyes glared at him. All kinds of terrible, gleaming weapons shone on the wall. Oh, what a horrible place I Yet there were flowers in the windows, and the bed was so soft. As he tried to move, the man in red turned and came to his side. The child clasped his hands and cried, fearfully: “Red Forester, take my life, but not father’s. Mother could not live without him, and what would we poor children do then? Your raven gave Elsa such fear, and I did not know that you loved him so.’’ “My child, before I hear another word,” said the doctor, “ you must eat this good soup I have ready and drink a glass of cordial. My old red gown has given your mind a twist, I fancy; so off it goes.” Hans looked up from his food and saw a fine old gentleman in a black coat with a face kind and winning as a child’s. In the most loving manner he drew the story of the boy’s trouble from him. “My dear child, your father’s life is in the hands of One who rules all things for the best. The storm has been a dreadful one, but we will not think of sorrow. Think only that you are safe, and sleep again so that you will be able to return to the mother, who must be bearing more trouble on your account,” In a few moments Hans was again sleeping, content find almost happy.

The Prince and a number of nig friends came in to look at him as he slept, and to them the doctor told of the mental and physical suffering the little fellow had undergone. The gentlemen were deeply interested. ' That boy will grow to be a fine man if he only has the right training,” said the doctor. “You cannot do better than train him yourself,” said the Prince. “You are without family. In the meantime if sorrow has come to the home we must help that mother. How soon will he be able to return?” “As soon as he wakens I shall drive him home,” answered the doctor. « A sleep of some hours almost restored Hans. He was lifted into a comfortable carriage, with the doctor by his side; and in the long drive that followed Hans was taught in the pleasantest way the folly of believing the silly stories so common among the people. A drive of a few hours brought them in sight of the shore and the home Hans had left in despair the day before. The boy was still weak; but as the sea, now calm and still, came in sight, he sprang up and gave a long look at the boats at anchor. A shout of joy burst from him. The doctor also sprang up. “My father’s boat!” he cried, pointing to one of the number. “My father is safe!" and the tears and sobs came fast. The Herr Doctor found himself blowing his nose and wiping his eyes as well. In a few moments the boy was in his father’s arms, the doctor himself telling his story; and then fisher Muller related how they had been blown far out the first night of. the storm and had taken refuge on the island of Rugen, where a benevolent Danish lady of title has built a refuge for fishermen, who find there warmth and food awaiting all who are driven on that shore; and many there are who bless this good woman for their rescue from the horrors of exposure. The good language and clear intellect of the man, his honest bearing and the neatness of the simple home won the doctor’s heart. “ Give Hans to me,” he said. The father and mother did not speak. “ Forgive me, that is not right, you must all come to me; I have long needed some one honest and true to take an interest in my comfort and home. Hans can still be with you; we will share him together.” So after a time all was arranged. The doctor never repented his interest in the Muller family, to the end of his life; for they remained his devoted and trusty servants. Hans studied the profession of his beloved friend and teacher, becoming his right hand truly. To-day hie name stands first among the eminent and benevolent men of his time. — [New York Independent.