Early in the spring, already before the coming of the cranes, the brothers forsook Jukola, and fleeing again to Impivaara clearing, began at once with all speed to build themselves a new home. Soon on the corner stones the stout logs rested and tier was added to tier. Then for many days from the break of dawn on to evening twilight the axes crashed and the heavy mallet thundered. Juhani, Aapo, Tuomas and Simeoni sat each at his corner, while the others shaped and rolled the logs up to the framework along sloping spars. Sweating, but always in merry mood they toiled and steadily the house rose and around them the resin spread its fresh perfume. But then days would go by when the brothers moved not an axe, but snoring in heavy slumber spent the day from eve to eve, sometimes until the morning of the third day.

Nevertheless, before the autumn sowings had yellowed in the village, the house stood completed on Impivaara clearing; on the same spot, in the same form and condition as the first; even grander than it stood before. And now that their stout-walled cabin was ready, the brothers were able to devote themselves once more with all their might to their hunting trips. Both for the hunt and for the fishing on Lake Ilvesjärvi they equipped themselves, set out with guns and traps on their adventure, and the dogs too followed them with flaming eyes. Tirelessly they roamed the wooded heights, bogs and backwoods, and cleft the bright surface of the lake, wresting a livelihood both for the moment and the coming, savage winter. And in those days many dwellers in the woods and waters gave up their lives.

But I would now like to relate of old Tinder-Matti, the brothers’ sole friend in these wilds. There was an old man, by name Tinder-Matti, who lived on a hill close-covered with curlywooded birch, lived alone in his tiny hut a few thousand paces from Impivaara Fell. He prepared the softest tinder in all Häme, and strong and lasting birch-bark shoes; and this work of his never failed to provide him with his daily bread. In his younger days he had travelled in North Finland, whither as trusted coachman he had followed the former vicar of the parish, who had moved right to the boundaries of Lapland. There Tinder-Matti had remained until the following summer, hunting bears, gluttons, and cranes in the limitless boglands of the north. Of these excursions he had much to relate; and his memory was matchlessly sharp; he never forgot what once he heard or saw. Sharp were also his gifts of observation and his eye; through bewildering forests he wandered without ever losing his bearings. No place existed, however distant, the direction of which he did not believe himself to know, without the error of a hair’s breadth, after a single visit. He pointed towards it immediately with his thumb; and it was vain to argue with him, so firmly he trusted in his own knowledge. If for instance you asked him; ‘where is Vuokatti Fell?’ he would answer at once, butting his thumb at the horizon: ‘there; look along my thumb; over there, couldst shoot it. Kuusamo church is where that little dip is; but a tiny cock’s stride to the right runs the line to Vuokatti Fell’. Similarly, if you asked him: ‘where is Porrassalmi battlefield?’ he would again answer straightway, butting his thumb at the horizon: ‘there, look along my thumb; over there, couldst shoot it.’ So exact was the old man, and indeed he knew accurately the forests for many scores of miles around his hut. He had tramped them in all directions, seeking now for fungoids, now for birch-bark for shoes, now visiting his traps. It happened sometimes that in his wanderings he would step over to the brothers’ cabin on Impivaara. And then the brothers would enjoy a pleasant time: gaping they listened to the old man’s tales, mouths open, ears erect as a bat’s. Once on an evening in August he sat again with the brothers, conversing of his hunting experiences in the lands of the north.

JUHANI. Ah, indeed, but what happened then?

TINDER-MATTI. Ay, what happened then? We went on to a great big open space, a squelching bog, and slid on our skis over that bubbling pit. We found many warm cranes’ nests, shot many shrieking cranes, stuffed our bags with eggs and feathers, and of the cranes each man threw a fine bunch over his shoulder. And then we had a dram. We jogged off again, the cranes and dogs across our necks, over the quaking and squelching, bubbling and hissing quagmire; and often a man was near to sinking for good into the everlasting depths, a whining hound on his neck. But we came however to an echoing hill, to firmer ground, though drenched like drowned rats. There we camped for the night, made a leaping fire and took off our sodden coats. And nothing helped but we had to peel off trousers and shirts too, peel them off like eels. Soon our clothes were steaming on the branches, cranes’ eggs hissing in the ashes, and we ourselves turning and wallowing in the rare warmth of the fire, naked as midnight goblins. And then we had a dram. But how think you the time passed? How went that May night with us? There the dogs kept on for ever twitching their damp nostrils and glowering up at the tree-tops. So at last we too started peeking upwards, and what did we see?

JUHANI. Tell us a half-blind little bear-pup, I’ll lay.

TIMO. Or Old Horny or Bogey himself, I guess.

TINDER-MATTI. Neither one nor t’other, but there sat a great dark-brown lump of a glutton in the fork of a dried-up, whiskery pine. Heiskanen fired and missed; Little-Jussi fired and missed; I too let fly in the end, but with almost the same blessing. The glutton only swayed once and growled real fiercely, but still sat nicely on its branch. Then Heiskanen shouted: ‘sorcerers’ tricks, sorcerers’ tricks!’ took a dead man’s tooth from his pocket, bit it a few times and spat on the bullet that he rammed into his gun. Then he wagged his hand a while in the air, and, fearfully rolling his eyes, uttered, the limb of Satan, a couple of strange, awful words, fired, and down thumped the glutton from the pine. But the imp was far from dead yet, and a new game began. We ourselves, stark naked as we were, couldn’t well go near the raging devil; nor did the dogs seem to like it, but there they hopped and skipped a fathom or so away, while the glutton spat, spat growling at them from the bushes. Black magic, you see, was still at work. But Heiskanen began gabbling his awful words again, wagging his hand and rolling his eyes fearfully. And now when one of the dogs charged right at the red-mawed monster, flew at it like a crackling rocket, a real shindy arose. Well, son of a lord, that dog shook the poor glutton like that, and that, and that! Deuce take me! you never saw such a worrying and dusting in all your days, and that’s truth.

JUHANI. Ten thousand flaming devils!

TIMO. That would have been fine to see!

TINDER-MATTI. It was a merry game and jolly, surely.

TIMO. And then you stuffed the glutton into your bags?

TINDER-MATTI. ’Twas a fine old rogue for any bag; a fat rascal. Ay, and then we had a dram. We put on our coats again, dry as powder, and laid ourselves peacefully to sleep in the warmth of the dancing fire. But ’twas little the sleep we got, what with sorcerers’ arrows flying all the time like fiery serpents criss-cross through the air over our reeling heads. Often enough, Heiskanen bounced up, crying in a loud voice: ‘out, sorcerers’ arrow, out, sorcerers’ arrow!’ and with a roar many of them fell, some in the forest, some in the grey bog, but still more went skimming along their smooth track without heeding his shout. And once we heard, sweeping from north to south, a deucedly angry and swift puffing that was followed for long by little squeakings. ‘What kind of a goblin was that scurried past?’ I asked Heiskanen, who answered after a while in a growl: ‘that was the Old ’Un himself passing by’. An hour went by again and another, and fire kept flashing in the mild, muggy air. Then, from the edge of the bog to the east, there came a sudden noise like the roar of mossy firs, and a moment later from the bog’s western side, another noise answered, but softer, like the rustle of a young birch-wood. ‘What roar was that over there, and what rustle this over here?’ I asked again, and Heiskanen growled at last: ‘th’ old Spirit of the Firs spoke to his daughters.’ The night passed, anyhow, and in time morning dawned, and we set off again. But that very minute we saw, right at the edge of the forest, a grey wolf, the damnedest big one for size, that flew off like a stack of peas in a whirlwind. All we saw of it at last was its left hind leg, and lifting my gun I shot it right through the paw, snapped it in two like a piece of crackling, though he saved his skin after all. Broke the poor beggar’s paw in two.

TIMO. The deuce! Paw broken off like an icicle, and lying there before you on the ground like a pig’s trotter at Shrovetide?

TINDER-MATTI. Well, not quite like that.

TUOMAS. How did you know it was broken then?

TINDER-MATTI. We chased it a mighty long way and saw several times that where the son of a wolf had trodden, his dragging, waggling paw had made like number tens in the sand.

TIMO. Well, may the Old ’Un take me! Number tens in the sand? Hi-hi-hi!

TINDER-MATTI. Plain number tens.

JUHANI. That wolf had a hot time.

TINDER-MATTI. The wolf had a hot time, if the men had too. But the dogs, rot them, wouldn’t budge a yard from our feet, but jogged along sad-like, tails drooping, the old dogs that had always been so brave.

AAPO. What had taken the spirit out of them?

TINDER-MATTI. Black magic, the bewitched spell-bound vapours of which the air was full as a battlefield with smoke. Heiskanen sure did his best, shouted charms and cursed, wagging his hand, but it was all no use. And Little-Jussi, the scamp, scurried along like a ball, pounding the earth and sweating hard. For the lad had no more leg than three spans of your hand at the very most; but he’d a real badger’s back, long and tough. Tough he was altogether, devilish tough, and hard as any badger. Right long he dusted after that wolf, which ran on limping ahead; but it was no use, he had to leave old wagtail to the forest. Ay; and then we had a dram. And when this was done we set off home again, carrying our rich bag. There we marched, bags under our arms, the bags full of eggs and feathers and this and that, little game from the forests; our skis and the cranes on our backs, guns in fists; and the hairy glutton dangled on each of our shoulders in turn: so we fared. But on the edge of the clouds flew a little chattering snipe; I shot that and put it in my bag. Then after walking a while I saw a flying squirrel, flat, with great eyes, in the crown of a pine; I shot that too and put it in my bag.

We came at last to high open clearings, and once in the south we saw Turkkila Farm, where we had begun our stiff journey. We came to a bloodstained spot which the master of Turkkila had pointed out to us on our way to the hunt as the place where a bear had killed a fine stallion only two days ago. We gazed awhile at Bruin’s bloody table and I noticed at once he had since been, likely at sunset the evening before, to enjoy the remains of his joint. I now reasoned that he would come again when this day faded, and so decided to stop and wait for him; but on to Turkkila went the others to prepare a mighty supper. There I stood then and pondered, thought hard, holding my head, how best to await my visitor on the open clearing, where there wasn’t a single tree to climb. But ‘better be smart than be quick’. I hit on a trick at last, a downright good plan. Quite near I saw a tarry stump, black, and enormously big, its roots lifted into the air by the spring thaws, at least a yard high. I chopped off the middle root that stuck out downward to the right, pulled it clean out and opened up the hole a bit more. Into this I crawled, and thrusting out the muzzle of my gun towards the bloody field, began thus sheltered to wait for Bruin’s coming, a stout castle over me. He came, waddling along from the plain, drove his teeth into the torn thigh of the dead stallion, and I decided as carefully as I could to give him a dose of lead in the forehead. But the deuce, anyhow! just then the little brass strip on the stock of my gun made the weeniest clink against the tin button of my coat, and the bear’s sharp ear caught the tinkle at once. In a rage, he charged at me, but was met with a bang. Taking no notice he came on, shrieking on a fearful note. Then there was a crashing over my head: the roots crackled and the earth shook as the many-pronged stump rose up over me. And I, poor lad, thought my end had come, and only waited, gun in hand, when the monster’s open maw would yawn before me. But the racket ended suddenly and all was quiet, still as the grave, and there was no tussle between me and the bear as I had expected. I waited a moment yet, but at last I peeped through the skyward-pointing roots to see what was on the other side, and there lay the bear stone dead, the uprooted stump in its arms and blood flowing from its mighty chest into the earth. But hallelujah! thinks I, standing a free man again under the free sky. For the stump had been lifted real neatly from around me.

JUHANI. ‘Hell’, said Heskuun-Jaakko!

TIMO. The Seven Smiths take me!

JUHANI. The funniest scrap on the face of the earth!

TUOMAS. A brave scrap, a manly scrap, both on Bruin’s side and yours!

JUHANI. O thou big black bull!

TIMO. The deuce! That’s all I can say. But what then?

TINDER-MATTI. Well, thou canst guess what happened then, canst guess that the bang carried to Turkkila like from the bottom of a barrel and soon brought men on to the clearing like midges. And then a din and shouting arose as Bruin was carried to the house on a bending, dancing pole. There was a giant for you: Hanging from a rafter he darkened the big tupa at Turkkila as a thick thundercloud does the sky. Such were that day’s doings, that day’s and that trip’s. And then we had a dram.

JUHANI. And celebrated a merry wake.

TINDER-MATTI. The wake began at Turkkila and ended at the vicar’s, ended with greasy faces and filmy eyes. So it was, and these days have been and gone. But gladly the old man remembers the adventures of the days of his best manhood and gladly he speaks of them.

AAPO. And right glad are we to hear them.

JUHANI. Keep on telling them till dawn, and we’ll forget there’s sleep in the world.

TINDER-MATTI. Well, it’s time to start crawling off to my lair again; ay, it’s time. God watch over you, brothers!

JUHANI. The Lord preserve you, honoured Matti.

AAPO. The best of health, and welcome to our hut always.

Matti departed, axe on shoulder, to his little hut on the birch-clad luxuriant hill, far away from the village. But the brothers prepared for their nightly repose, for darkness already triumphed, and the failing light of evening shone sadly through the narrow window-holes of their cabin. But for long the thoughts swarmed feverishly in their brains, driving away refreshing sleep. They pondered over Tinder-Matti’s tales of the deserts of the north, of the bewitched air of those places and the sorcerer’s arrows speeding hissing from every quarter of the dark night. And like to the sparkle of the arrows and the flaming of the guns, so flamed in their breasts a strange desire and eagerness. Above all was their lust whetted by the thought of the crane, that bird of wise and arrogant eye, whose austere cry echoes through the northern boglands; and to meet their thoughts came a breath of the pleasant warmth of feathered nests, a vision of gleaming eggs in nests hidden away in the bog-bilberry bushes. To hunt this long-necked prey and despoil its nests, for this the brothers now lusted. Powerfully the awe-inspiring gloom of the northern bogs fired their imaginations.

Longer than any other, Juhani lay awake in his bed. He pondered over the best way to arrange a hunting-trip in his own district that would compare with the one newly related from the lands of darkness. He thought of Kourusuo Bog, where, although cranes there were none, there were plenty of speckly-feathered wild ducks. And with the interlarded drinks of the northern hunters haunting his mind with a strange fascination, he bethought him that spirits were to be had at Viertola Manor. And so he finally built up in his mind a copy of the brave hunt of the north, and having decided to carry it into effect the very next day, fell asleep at last; but in his sleep he battled long on Tinder-Matti’s mighty adventure. Once he started up dreaming from his couch, crying in a fearful voice: ‘The glutton, the glutton! Seize the crane-necked devil!’ To this shout the others, but half-awakened, answered with angry grunts from their berths; soon, however, they were asleep again. But Juhani stared around him for long before he realized that he stood not on the vapoury plains of Lapland, between the bogs, on a grey neck of land, but on the peaceful gallery of his own home. Then his mind gradually cleared, he dropped down on his bed again and slept undisturbed. But on the morrow, awakening, he remembered his decision of the night and began at once to introduce the matter to the others.

JUHANI. Brothers, listen to what I say and to what I would impress on you. I have remembered a place that teems with game and marvel greatly that to this day we should have forgotten Kourusuo, where water-fowl swarm in the reeds and clear pools without count or number. Let us go and hunt there and we shall bring back wild duck by the sackful.

TUOMAS. I’m with thee.

TIMO. And willingly.

EERO. I too; and as we plod over the bog I shall fancy myself Little-Jussi on the Lapland marshes. I’m with thee!

AAPO. I too will not oppose a plan that can bring us food for many days.

JUHANI. We decide on the trip then. But it’s a fearful way to Kourusuo, a wolf’s league, and we shall be gone at least one night. Therefore, I believe a drink would do us no harm, camping under the naked sky.

TUOMAS. There’s spirits at Viertola.

JUHANI. Good spirits too.

TUOMAS. Seven spans, boys!

JUHANI. Right! a span each.

AAPO. Maybe we’ll leave out the spirits, to which luckily for us we are unused.

JUHANI. Thou hast taken a dram now and then, both thou and I.

EERO. Grasp, Aapo, the childish hint of the man. Permit us to be able to say in our time: ‘and then we had a dram,’ when as grey-haired gaffers we relate the adventures of our youth to gaping children. Allow us to imagine that we are giving young gluttons a hot time in the north.

JUHANI. More nonsense! Isn’t it only right and just that a man should feed his carcase? On this trip we shall often enough be treading bogs and squelching quagmires, and spending our nights wet through on beds of bear-moss. At such times a little gulp from a pocket-flask can do good, think I. We deem it best therefore that we shall not lack a drop of medicine in our bags when we set out. And now let Lauri-lad go to Viertola, our best fox-skin in his pouch; and spirits will soon be forthcoming.

Lauri set off to bring spirits from Viertola, for a cordial on the wild-duck hunt on Kourusuo Bog. About five thousand paces from Impivaara, on land belonging to Viertola, lies this bog, wide, surrounded by sombre forests. Its surface, a favourite resort of wild duck, shows in succession clear-watered pools, high clusters of reeds and hummocky islets with dying pines. Hither the brothers had decided to march to harry the creaking wild duck, hoping for a rich booty.

Lauri came from Viertola bringing sparkling spirits in a tin bottle, their father’s former hunting flask. But as well as spirits he brought important news from the forest which stirred the brothers’ minds to a still keener enthusiasm. He related that a bear had felled one of the best bulls in the Viertola herds, and even knew the site of the kill, which was north of Impivaara on Viertola ground, but near the Jukola forest boundary. Past this spot the brothers now laid their route, deciding not to set off until the day inclined to evening. In this way they might perhaps meet the bear, whose habit it is to return at sunset to enjoy the remains of his prey. So at least they hoped. And when a hearty dinner had been eaten and the afternoon declined, they departed on their hunt, heavily equipped: birch-bark knapsacks on their backs and stiff charges in their guns. Last came Lauri, leading the dogs on a leash and carrying in his pack the seven spans of spirits. He had been ordered to halt with the dogs about three hundred paces from the site of the kill, and was to release Killi and Kiiski on hearing shouts or the sound of firing. He acted accordingly, and stopped in time at the foot of a fir to await the outcome. The others approached nearer the spot where the bull had been felled and found the half-devoured carcase on bloodstained ground in a dark clump of spruce. Hiding themselves in a low but dense thicket of young firs within reasonable firing-distance, they prepared to wait.

A fairly long spell passed. But at last a stealthy shuffling and the creak of twigs was heard from the plain, and it became clear that their guest approached his feast. And so it turned out to be. Between the trees, softly and with caution, an unusually large bear drew near. But it seemed he scented danger; for grunting and turning his muzzle from side to side, he halted a long way from his victim. Long he hesitated, and it looked at last as though he was inclined to turn back, without approaching within gunshot of the men. In deepest silence the brothers waited in their thicket, until finally Timo, heedless of the others’ forbidding gestures, began, creeping in a wide curve, to approach the ferocious beast. And then, thinking himself sufficiently close to the bear, he fired; but only the powder flashed in his pan and the charge in his barrel failed to ignite. Enraged, like a huge moss-covered stone, Bruin now charged at the man, who without delay threw himself down on his face, and remained there motionless. The brute sniffed at him, nosed and tugged, grunting and blowing angrily. In all likelihood Timo’s doom had been sealed, if Juhani had not sped to his assistance, firing at the bear’s backbone. Lower he dared not aim, remembering his brother, who lay beneath the monster. But the bullet missed a vital spot at least, for in greater rage than ever the sprucewood’s king now rushed at Juhani, leaving Timo to sniff the soil. Then Juhani, his life at stake, turned the stock of his gun towards the brute’s open jaws, and an awful struggle seemed imminent. But now Tuomas fired, sending a fiery bullet into the animal’s thigh. Afraid, he too, for his brother, he was unable to aim at the head or breast, where a wound is more likely to prove mortal. Still, the brute now tasted lead in its system, and the blood streamed down its sturdy, rounded limb. Furious, screaming terribly, it flew at Tuomas, but met with so deadly a blow on its forehead from the stock of the man’s gun that, shaking its head, it was brought up in its charge. And so the combatants stood awhile, defiantly regarding each other.

Then the dogs rushed forward, approaching as swiftly and silently as two streaks of lightning, until, having reached the ruffled bear, a virulent din arose. Killi raged at the bear to its face, keeping, however, a few paces distant. Kiiski stormed in the rear, even daring, now and again, a hurried tweak at its woolly hindquarters, but leapt, however, swiftly aside whenever the bear, like a grey-black enormous haycock, turned round. Finally, after a few fruitless lunges at its tormentors, the bear fled, with the yelping hounds at its heels.

All this occurred with extreme rapidity and before the other brothers had arrived on the scene of the conflict. Meanwhile Juhani and Tuomas quickly reloaded, hoping to catch up with the bear once more. Timo, too, gradually rose from the ground and stared around him a moment as though unaware where the north was, whence the wind then blew. Heatedly the others now scolded him for the foolish temerity that might easily have cost human lives and had perhaps spoiled the chase for good. Without answering a word, Timo sat on a hummock, opening up the touch-hole of his gun and chipping its flint sharper with the back of his knife. And soon they all stood ready to continue the hunt.

Farther and farther the barking of the dogs receded, until it was almost inaudible, and the brothers began wondering whether they would ever meet with their prey again. But after a while the voices of Killi and Kiiski echoed plainer, steadily approaching, and it became clear that the bear was completing its customary circle, and so would return to the spot whence it had started. The brothers arranged themselves in comfortable positions, gun in hand, to await the approaching hunt. In a little grassy clearing stood Simeoni, and a short distance away Lauri, both stock-still, silent as two statues. At full speed, so that the earth thundered, the bear drew nigh, showing its dark open mouth. Straight towards Simeoni the panting monster sped. The man fired, and down tumbled the bear to the grass, only to rise again and charge at the shooter. Then came the flash of Lauri’s gun, a sharp report echoed around, and the bear collapsed silently at Simeoni’s feet. There it rested, not a limb moving, and the blood flowed from its head and chest.

All the brothers gathered quickly round the fallen bear; it was a huge, aged male. They saw now that its skull had been pierced close to the root of its ear, and that its side likewise had been pierced. The former wound all knew had been caused by Lauri’s bullet; for an animal whose brain has been pierced falls immediately, never to rise. Satisfied, the hunters sat round the thick-pelted hero of the woods, preparing to drink to the kill. Content also, with noble gaze, the dogs sat beside their fallen enemy. The evening was fair, the wind had died down, and the sun sank into the lap of the dark woods. Pleasant it was to rest in so delicious an evening hour, after the wild and heated encounter.

JUHANI. The first drink is Lauri’s. He shot like a man, hit the beggar in a real golden spot, and down on his palms flashed the bear like grass before the scythe. A good gulp, my lad!

LAURI. What if I too were to let a drink slide down my throat for once?

JUHANI. Thou beginner on the path of alcohol, strange to its very taste, innocent yet as a lamb.

LAURI. I know its taste, but how the world feels when a merry lad dances in his cups, that I truly don’t know.

AAPO. Think a while, Lauri, and I would sooner say thee nay than yea.

LAURI. Here’s to it!

AAPO. And let us hope that this is not the beginning of a harmful habit.

LAURI. What art thou jawing about? Take a drop of this, now that we have reason to be a little merry.

JUHANI. There our bogey lies like a great heap of hay, and the lives of many bulls and horses are saved.

TIMO. I know that next time we meet, the master of Viertola will stuff a bottle into our bosoms for nothing, a bottle or two.

JUHANI. I wouldn’t call that much, seeing that we have saved his herd of bulls from the monster there.

AAPO. But there’s a herd for you; forty head of horns. All the summer they live in the forests, night and day, but when winter comes they draw all the manor dung into the fields. But that free life of theirs in the woods all the summer makes them nearly wild.

JUHANI. God keep us from meeting them with the dogs; they’d soon make mincemeat of both a man and his dogs. Let us remember the danger Nikkilä got into amongst the Honkamäki bulls; his danger was great although the number of beasts was not as terrifying as in this glowering Viertola herd. Through his dogs, which in a scrimmage of this kind always take shelter with their master, death would have overtaken him in the end, if he hadn’t come to a strong pasturage fence that stopped the mad charge of the bulls like a protecting castle wall.

AAPO. Let us be careful. A little while ago I heard something that sounded like a hoarse bellow from yon hill. To my belief they are not far away. But what is Eero up to with that boulder?

EERO. There’s a badger here, in this hole under the stone.

JUHANI. Would that be possible?

EERO. Surely. Tracks lead into the hole but none out, as I can see in this sand.

AAPO. Show the tracks to the dogs, and the wagging of their tails will soon show whether there are lodgers there.

JUHANI. Hither, Killi and Kiiski!

TUOMAS. They are off on their own again, and, I’m thinking, on the track of a hare.

EERO. Together we could easily lever up this stone.

TUOMAS. Jobs more foolish have been tried. Give me thy axe, Juhani, and I’ll cut a stout bar for each of us, and then we can all lift up the stone when the dogs come.

So they spoke; and with Juhani’s axe Tuomas cut a thick staff for each of the men, four of birch and three of mountain ash. But suddenly, from the forest, they heard a furious crashing and roaring, which seemed to approach them at great speed. In amaze the brothers listened, staves in hand, listened and waited for what the forest would reveal. A loud, confused bellowing carried thence; at intervals the dogs yelped pitiably; and soon a dreadful vision broke on their sight. In mad career, ten furious bulls galloped towards the men, sweeping before them the dogs, which, fleeing for their lives, hurried to their masters’ side. But at this the men’s air bristled, and cold shivers ran down their bodies. And without pausing the bulls charged at them, bellowing deafeningly; their onslaught was stoutly met, and a terrible battle ensued. With their strong staves the brothers laid about them, splitting horned heads, and already two of the bulls lay on the field, brandishing their hooves in the air. But death seemed nigh for the brothers, too. Timo fell, and a bull bent down ready to pierce his breast; but then Tuomas’s ashen stave fell heavily, and falling, broke the bull’s back. With a groan the beast sank lifeless to the ground, and Timo was saved. A similar doom threatened Aapo, but he was saved by Juhani and Eero. Mightily Juhani laid about the bull, hitting it with his cudgel between the horns, Eero tearing meanwhile at its tail to alter its position, until this beast too lay on the ground, brandishing its hooves. In the heat of the conflict Timo lost his staff of birch, but soon perceived Juhani’s axe on the grass; snatching up this, he began laying about him with fiery energy. Right and left he smote: dreadfully the bulls’ stomachs opened, and bubbling, the water, blood and offal poured on to the earth. So, pale of visage, fought the men, in the jaws of death; and the dogs too did their best, plying their teeth like iron pincers at the brutes’ throats. Loud in this confusion was the din and turmoil; up and down danced the staves, high in the air flew the loosened horns of the bulls, and the shouts of the brothers, the snarling of the dogs and the bellowing of the beasts mingled in one terrific noise.

But at last the combat ended. Seven bulls lay lifeless on the field, and three fled, one with a single horn, one with none, one with a sorely battered carcase. Pale and wild of eye, the brothers stood on the bloodstained battlefield. Gory all over stood Timo, a bloody, bedraggled axe in his hand, like a woodcutter amidst fallen trees. Hardly could they visualize what had befallen. When they reflected upon the conflict, which like a whirlwind had come upon them, raged a moment in their midst and with equal suddenness ceased, it all seemed like a dreadful dream. Horrorstricken, they viewed the number of animals on the bloodstained ground before them: the sprucewood bear, terrifically large, and seven fat bulls. They too had experienced hard knocks in the fight, especially Aapo, Juhani and Timo; nevertheless, all of them still stood on their feet. And there they now stood, staves in hand, panting, perspiring and silently regarding each other.

But hardly had they had time to breathe before a new danger approached, greater by far than the first. It was as though a hurricane had followed a squall. It seemed indeed that the end of the world was now come. The earth shook as in an earthquake, the forest crashed and a mighty roaring filled the still evening air as three and thirty maddened bulls approached them at a gallop. The brothers listened to the tumult, eyes round in their heads, listened a moment without stirring, dumb as a harried herd of swine stands dumb in the bushes beside a fence, listening ears acock for the renewed approach of their pursuer. Thus the brothers too listened until the horde of bulls broke from the forest. At that they threw away their staves, snatched their guns, and with the dogs fled at full speed; and snorting, the bulls followed them. Towards the boundary-fence between the Viertola forests and their own the brothers hastened. A shallow pool, decked with the semblance of green turf, opened in their path; but there was no time for detours, and so without hesitating they ran through it. The water roared as they disappeared in a shower of foam and spray, but almost at the same moment they came into sight again. Their flight reminded one of the moon’s passage through the blue meadows of the sky. Not for her to move aside for the cloud which attempts to bar her path; but unheedingly she sails through it and brighter than before appears again on its farther side. And her pilgrimage is grave and solemn. But the Jukola brothers ran like hares and wild goats; for death ran at their heels. A fence, new and strong, barred their path, and like fire the brothers flew over it, pausing a score of paces away on the smooth clearing on its other side to see whether the fence would save them. The raving, trumpeting herd of bulls drew near; a loud crash was heard; and down fell the spruce fence, and the bulls were nearer to the brothers than before. Ever onward sped the chase across the hollow clearing: the men and the dogs ahead, the bulls behind, snorting and kicking up clods and clouds of sand, as the winter winds drive the smoking snow high into the air. At furious speed the brothers ran, the terror of death in their hearts, for they believed that it was already the last lap of the road of their lives they were treading.

Then a cry was heard from Aapo’s lips: ‘bags off your backs, but keep the guns!’ And immediately six birch-bark knapsacks rolled to the ground; the seventh still danced on Lauri’s back, for he was not yet inclined to part with his. Little, however, did this avail them; for closer and closer the terrible drumming and roaring approached. And again a despairing, shrieking cry broke from Aapo’s lips: ‘to the Devil’s Rock, to the Devil’s Rock!’ by which he meant a certain rock, enormously large, which stood in a sombre forest. Towards this the brothers now hastened and soon stood at its foot, and then like lightning the men and dogs scrambled up to its crown. The moss flew far around as their hands clutched at the corners of the rock; firmer, sharper and more sure by far than ever the crooked claws of a glutton, their fingers seized on the rock. Thus they were saved from an awful death, but close had the abyss been to them. Hardly had they reached the rock before the horde of bulls stormed around them, rumbling and pawing the earth. This rock, the brothers’ shelter, was almost square in shape, a fragment of rock a fathom high which stood in the forest about three hundred paces from the edge of the clearing. On this the brothers now sat, perspiring and panting fearfully after their run from angry death. Silent, uttering not a word, they sat for long. But at last Juhani opened his lips.

JUHANI. Here we are, brothers, and let us thank our luck for that. For this was a march we shall remember as long as there are bulls in the world.

AAPO. Here we are, but how are we to get away? Bulls are obstinate brutes, and these here are in a furious rage over the death of their comrades, which they would now like to avenge on our dogs with interest.

JUHANI. And we’d be served from the same ladle.

AAPO. But for the lucky height of this rock.

JUHANI. It was surely a welcome find for us. In truth! Like squirrels, we climbed swiftly up it.

EERO. ‘And then we had a dram’.

JUHANI. Just so! Thanks be to God that we still have the spirits, if it turns out that we lads have to learn to fast up here.

LAURI. I didn’t drop my knapsack, I.

JUHANI. Thanks to thee too, brother mine. But bring forth thy tin flask, take a good gulp at it and then set it going round. Our hearts need a little strengthening now.

AAPO. Such stuff has to be enjoyed with caution in a dangerous situation like this.

JUHANI. A wholesome reminder. But take a moderate pull at that.

AAPO. Moderation’s always best. Let us remember that this is our bed too, and may be for more than one night.

JUHANI. God preserve us from that! I hope hunger will soon drive away that forest of horns around us. Ay, here we sit like seven owls in the woods, on this mossy Devil’s Rock. How did it get that name?

AAPO. From a certain strange tale.

JUHANI. Tell us it now to pass our time. For this is just the place for tales, tales and stories.

And this tale of the rock was now told them by Aapo.

There lived once in his castle on the Lapland fells a mighty prince of the Underworld, the most powerful sorcerer in the north. He had an elk, beautiful and nobly formed, matchlessly swift at running. This lovely animal set out one day in early spring to frisk on the frozen snowdrifts, and ended by starting to run round the whole of Finland. Then many an archer, seeing the golden-pelted sweet-dyed deer, hastened to the chase with his arrows of tempered steel. But none could follow it, for right quickly it left a skiing huntsman behind. It came at last to Häme, where lived a mighty skier and great marksman. This man now scented the magnificent elk of the Underworld and set off swiftly to ensnare it, gliding on his smooth skis, a powerful bow on his shoulder. At a shrieking pace the deer galloped over the frozen snow, but at still swifter pace the archer followed. So they ran for long over plains and steep hills, up and down. But at last weariness began to overcome the deer; already he panted greatly as he ran; his speed weakened and the man approached closer and closer. Then a wonder occurred that has been seen before to hold back a marksman’s arrow. Suddenly the elk turned and approached its pursuer with beseeching glance and shedding quick tears. But without the slightest hesitation the pitiless man shot his bolt, piercing the beautiful animal’s brow; and thus the deer from the Underworld fell, dyeing the snow with its blood.

Then the Prince of the Underworld, pacing the dismal valleys of the uttermost north, felt a sudden spasm at his heart and knew at once that his golden elk walked in danger. He hurried to the fell on which his castle stood and with his magic spy-glass began looking towards the south. And far away in a sombre spruce-wood he saw his deer, which, bathed in blood, writhed in its death agony; and he saw the murderer standing by his victim with rejoicing glance. Then a terrible rage possessed him; he snatched a huge, square block of stone from the wall of his castle and flung it high in the air, flying towards the archer in Häme’s forest. The mighty rock sped onward with a great roaring sound, cleaving the windy world of cloud in a wide arc. It rose to the crest of the sky, sank down again, sank southward, and exactly on the marksman’s brow this unspeakable weight fell, burying the man beneath it.

JUHANI. And the man’s death was our luck. Where should we be now without this stone? There in the forest, carrion and crow’s-meat, we’d be lying.

TUOMAS. We shall get our fill of this stone yet. I’ll stand for that.

JUHANI. May God help us in time!

TIMO. We lads will have to snore in layers here, packed on each others’ backs like young swallows in a nest.

AAPO. That won’t do. A sleep-fuddled man would soon roll off, a prey to the bulls. So let two of us, one on each side, always keep watch over our sleeping brothers.

JUHANI. Wise advice, and let us keep to it closely; this is to be our lodging for this night at least. That we can see already from the movements of the bulls. There three of the scoundrels lie, basking on their accursed bellies, puffing and chewing. The devils! But go to sleep, lads; Aapo and I will keep watch up to somewhere about midnight. Go to bed, go to bed. The Lord bless us!

AAPO. Oh we miserable wretches!

SIMEONI. To what pitch have we unlucky lads come!

JUHANI. To misery, great misery. But go to sleep; bless your souls and bodies and sleep in the Lord’s name.

So they spent their night: two always awake, while the others slept on the moss-covered rock; and long was the night. Day broke, however, at last; the sun rose and climbed up the sky, but their fate remained unchanged; always the same horns, on every side, danced round the Devil’s Rock, and hunger already assailed them fiercely. Notwithstanding, they still hoped that the same pitiless guest would work his will in the stomachs of the bulls, forcing them in the end to seek other pastures. Thus hoping, they awaited the withdrawal of their foes. But to their horror they soon observed that there was sufficient food for the brutes in the moist backwoods’ sedge around the rock. This the bulls now began solemnly tugging, moving on no farther but that the mossy rock was constantly in sight.

JUHANI. They’re not even thinking of shifting. They’re taking up, the devil seize them, their quarters here until the winter.

EERO. The devil’s in their skins.

TIMO. What’s lacking for them here? The forest gives them both food and drink; but dry moss is our bread and meat.

SIMEONI. The matter is this, that we sit here for our dogs’ sakes. I fear our only road to salvation is to throw down Killi and Kiiski as a sacrifice to the bulls.

JUHANI. Cruel advice.

AAPO. That we shall not lightly follow.

JUHANI. Not as long as Jukola’s Juho stands upright.

TUOMAS. Should we to save our skins cast away those who have saved our lives many times over from the murderous claws of wild beasts? And would it even help us? I doubt it.

JUHANI. I too. The bulls there, having made rags of our dogs, would just start waiting for something else to spear with their horns. That’s sure.

SIMEONI. Ay, ay, but what way out shall we find when hunger begins to squeal in earnest in our bellies?

JUHANI. It’ll squeal at first in our stomachs, but from there it soon shoots up to the beating heart of a man, like a cat on a fat mouse, and ’tis then a strong man crumples up. Hard, hard days for a man. What way out can we find? ask I too.

AAPO. Let’s all shout loudly with one mouth; perhaps the sound might be heard by some one in the forest, or carry right to Viertola and set the people there guessing.

JUHANI. That’s a trick worth trying.

TIMO. Let’s shout hard.

JUHANI. Like mad. Let us all break out together into one world’s marvel of a shout. All together, and its effect will be more than grand. There now, let’s get up and be ready. When I clap my hands the third time, we yell, and yell like seven men. One, two three!

They shouted together with all their might and all at the same time, so that the rock and the earth beneath it rang, and even the bulls rushed startled a few paces from the stone. Fearsome was the sudden scream of the seven men, which was followed by a long-drawn quivering cry, in which the plaintive howling of the dogs was further mingled. They shouted five long shouts, and the forest roared and the echoes rolled afar. But when the fifth and hardest shout was over, they sat down to breathe a while. Having rested, they repeated the work, shouting seven times, and then began to await what the effect would be. With blackened faces and bloodshot eyes they sat on the mossy rock, and the bellows of their chests worked fiercely.

JUHANI. Let’s wait and see what this does, let’s wait. Folk are crazy if they can’t understand that a crowd of men don’t scream like this except in the greatest danger. Let’s wait.

EERO. But if no help comes after all this noise, we are surely dead men. The second sun sinks already in the west and our hunger grows fierce.

SIMEONI. God ha’ mercy on us! one night and a day and a half have gone since our last meal.

TIMO. That’s so. Listen to the rumbling in my stomach, rumblings and growlings and even little pipings. This is hard.

JUHANI. Hard, hard; I know it and believe it, having peeped into my own belly.

SIMEONI. Long is the day of a hungry man!

TIMO. Ay, it’s long.

JUHANI. Long and dark! Are even Aapo’s brains emptied? Canst thou not remember even the caw of a crow or the chatter of a barnyard owl to tell us, sitting here on Hunger’s terrible isle.

AAPO. I remember one tale that hunger brings to my mind; though it won’t make us forget the need for refreshing our bodies, but only remind us of food and drink.

JUHANI. Thou meanest the man in the mountain. I have heard it.

TIMO. But to me it is new; tell it, brother Aapo.

SIMEONI. Tell it, tell it!

AAPO. It is the tale of a man, a noble hero of the Faith, who sat for a time imprisoned in Impivaara’s caves, like aforetime the Pale Maiden, although for other reasons.

And Aapo told them this tale:

Once upon a time, when the Christian Faith and paganism still fought together in Häme, there was amongst those converted a good man, pious and eager to spread the new religion, which he practised with passion in the shelter of Sweden’s arms. But those armoured heroes had to return suddenly to their own fatherland and the baptized inhabitants of Häme fell under the terriblest persecution of their heathen brothers. Many were killed in awful ways, while others sought to save themselves by flight into the tortuous backwoods, the caves on the fells, in short, anywhere. This pious man fled to Impivaara’s caverns; but his persecutors, following on his tracks in their thirst for revenge, soon found out where he had hidden himself. ‘Shut the wolf up in his own lair!’ they shouted with wicked joy, built up the opening to the cavern securely, and left the man to perish of hunger and darkness.

A miserable end would have befallen him now, if Heaven had not worked a new miracle. Scarce had the last gleam of daylight fled from its mouth, when the spacious cave was lit by the most wondrous, silvery light; and thus in the heart of the chilly rock the man had his own mild heavenly daylight. And yet other miracles occurred. Behold, from the floor of the cavern burst a tinkling spring, the waters of which were not lessened by use; and thus the man always had refreshing drink in his rocky chamber. And yet from the brink of the spring rose up a beautiful, blossoming tree, bearing the sweetest fruits, that were never lessened by taking from them; and of these the man had his delicious food. Here he spent his days, praising the Lord, here his nights were spent, dreaming of the lands of the blessed. And his days were as summer days, warm and filled with light, and his nights a fairy twilight. So passed a year, and Christian blood flowed in streams in Häme. But when a ghastly year of persecution had run its course and a delightful September morning shone without, the clink of hammers and iron bars was borne to the hero’s ears from the cavern’s walled-in mouth. Through the piled-up rocks day gleamed at last, and in a flash the marvellous light vanished from the cave, likewise the spring and from its brink the fruitful tree.

But what had caused this commotion and clatter out there beyond the cavern’s opening? There stood a great host of heathens and in their midst a few Christians bound in ropes and sentenced to die of hunger in the dark depths of the fell. Nor could they guess that any other fate had befallen the man imprisoned a year earlier in the same dungeon. But great was their astonishment when, on the opening of the cave, the hero walked out with transfigured, shining brow. And a voice whose holy clarity cleaved to the marrow sounded from his mouth: ‘Greeting, friends and brothers, greeting, golden sun and soughing forest, greeting!’ At that the host fell on their knees before him, praising the god in whom he believed and who had saved him from an awful death. But in a loud voice the man told them of the miracles that had befallen him in the dark womb of the fell; and with one voice the people cried to him: ‘baptize us, baptize us also to belief in the same god!’ Thus to the man’s exceeding joy they shouted, and at once released the prisoners sentenced to death from their bonds. Then the pious hero stepped to the brink of a stream and the crowd followed him, and renouncing their paganism, allowed themselves to be baptized in the Christian Faith. But on the bank stood the erstwhile victims, singing a hymn of praise to Him who from a death of agony had saved both them and their saintly father and led the children of heathens out of darkness into light. So, looking up into the high heavens, they sang.

AAPO. Such is the tale of the devout man.

JUHANI. And the heathens’ baptism took place just where our wolf-trap now stands in the brook.

SIMEONI. Belief can work miracles. I am quite sure that the man had neither a spring nor a fruitful tree in the cavern and that no light seen of human eye lighted up his chamber, but that a firm, and unwavering belief satisfied all his bodily needs. The strength of his spirit was to him a cool spring, sweet fruit and a shining light. What was it my former comrade at the herding, Tuomas Tervakoski, said? ‘If thou hast the shield of belief and the sword of the spirit, thou canst go and dance a polka with devils’. That was what the pious old man said.

JUHANI. But a full-grown man’s stomach can’t live long on belief and empty air; no, rot it, it can’t. And I swear he shoved tastier victuals than fruit and water into his cheek. A man’s body demands it, that has grown and thriven with the help of meat and rye-bread. Ay, ay, they tell the tale another way too. They say that five black bulls’ horns suddenly appeared to the man in the cavern’s wall. And then when he opened the first horn, the best factory spirits, clear as water, squirted hissing out of it for an appetizer, one that would have drawn any man’s mouth together. From the second horn he dragged out by the yard puckered fat and hot pork sausage. And from the third the best new-crop porridge spluttered out in a stiff curve, and from the fourth sour milk to wet it with, sour milk thick as tar. And then when he had stuffed his belly as full as a tick he opened the fifth horn in a hurry and pulled out twist, best Danish roll, that swelled in the lad’s cheek like a sucking leech. Could a man with no work at all want better grub?

TIMO. He was in Heaven, he was. But we?

TUOMAS. This makes a man’s head go hot.

TIMO. Makes a lad’s head dizzy.

JUHANI. A thousand crowns for a meal like that now! A thousand thousand crowns!

SIMEONI. ‘Puckered, fat and hot pork sausage!’ Ay, we sit in Hell’s midst and hear how they rejoice and eat in Heaven. Ah! What are we to do, brothers, what are we to do?

EERO. Believe, believe!

SIMEONI. Dost thou still talk with mocking tongue, thou monster!

EERO. The last gasp, brother mine, the last gasp; believe me. Soon I shall crumple up sighing like an emptying bladder, a bull’s bladder. Ah, if I had here a new-baked loaf and butter on it!

TIMO. And on the butter world-terrifying sausage!

JUHANI. If we had here seven new-baked loaves, seven pounds of butter and seven sausages baked in the warmth of a cordwood fire; there’d be a feast.

EERO. Bright fire and lightning!

TIMO. A man ought to be wise and always carry a paper of salt in his pocket. Salt binds our innards and can keep us alive for weeks without a scrap of food as big as a midge in our guts.

JUHANI. Ay, boy! salt wouldn’t keep us alive for long.

TIMO. But Iisakki Koivisto, that matchlessly lazy man, lies sprawling for many God’s days at a stretch on the boards in Karkula’s bath-house, without a crumb to break his fast. And how does he keep the wretched life still simmering in him? Why the rogue keeps sucking a lump of salt like an infant its mother’s breast.

JUHANI. He also sits like a corn-crake in the village corn-fields, rubbing the grain from the stalks into his face. Look you now, it’s late evening already, and no sound of help from the world of men, and here’s thirty and three puffing devils for ever walking and walking round us. But there’s two of the rascals butting. Strike together, strike together and pierce each others foreheads, burst ’em so the brains spurt out of your skulls on to the field, and there’ll be two tormentors less for us. That’s the way! Here’s a little fun to pass the time. Just so! and may the game last long and eight bony ploughs tear up the ground!

TUOMAS. Stoutly they’re fighting, the white-backed and the white-headed one.

JUHANI. Bet white-head wins.

TUOMAS. White-back wins.

JUHANI. Here’s my paw, a wager on it.

TUOMAS. Agreed. Timo, judge thou.

JUHANI. Done!

TUOMAS. A span of spirits!

JUHANI. It’s said. Let’s watch now, let’s watch the lads fight. But now they’re like resting a bit, forehead to forehead.

TIMO. And jerking slightly, as if they didn’t care.

JUHANI. But now! Now they’re improving full strength. Now, Whitehead, my Whitehead, dig thy hooves well into the ground!

TUOMAS. Dig deeper thou, my brave Whiteback. That’s the way!

JUHANI. Whitehead, Whitehead!

TUOMAS. My brawny Whiteback with the steely forehead! So, lad! But leave off that solemn shoving and push thy man to Hades.

JUHANI. Whitehead! The devil cut off thy horns! Dost thou run away, damn thee?

TUOMAS. Flight’s good enough for him.

TIMO. And the other tears after him like a good ’un. He-he-he!

TUOMAS. Ay, Juhani.

JUHANI. A span of spirits gone. Thou shalt have it when we get out of this fix. But when will that day dawn? Ah! After many years it’ll happen that under the eyes of the hunt-bailiff there’ll be a fine load of faggots darted from here to the village and from the village to the graveyard, a cartload of clinking, clattering skeletons of seven men.

SIMEONI. And so ended our sinful lives.

JUHANI. So ended our lives.

TIMO. So they ended.

JUHANI. Ended miserably. But open thy knapsack, Lauri, and let a drink go round.

AAPO. Let it go for this once, but the rest of the spirits will have to be saved for a greater danger.

JUHANI. As thou sayest. But now we’ll take a drink that makes itself felt and then shout like clarions.

And when each had drunk, they lifted up their voices again, shouting all together. The echo carried to the ear of the Viertola bailiff, as he walked on the barn rise, but instead of understanding the significance of the cry, he only uttered to himself with awe: ‘the boundary-spirit cries there’. But the brothers, straining their jaws towards the heavens and all agape, with mouths wide open like those of dragons or of young birds in their nest when they hear the flapping of their approaching mother’s wings, still shouted madly, shouted ten times. Whereafter they sat down again on their mossy resting-place, a dying hope in their hearts.