Page - 104 - in The Forest Farm - Tales of the Austrian Tyrol

nothing better for myself, and only fear lest things should become worse!’ So he must have been a much more contented man than his father, and no one ever heard how he stood with regard to religion. His wife,” continued my lad, “has often told me since, that he laid his arm round her neck and said, ‘God be praised and thanked that I have you!’ So he must have believed something. And his father, Kickel, just revelled in joy because all went so well for his Oswald. “Huntsman Kickel lived in an old dismantled farm-house, in the only room which was still habitable. At that time he was suffering with a wound in his foot, which he had got by leaping from a rock, and for months he had been unable to go into the coverts. As Oswald on Sundays went up to his mountain-hut from the valley, his way led him past, and he spoke to his father to ask him how the sick leg was, and to bring him this thing or the other and to chat with him about his wife and his dear boy. He often brought the boy with him, too, and then Huntsman Kickel would throw his boxes and cupboards open and invite son and grandson to take with them anything that particularly pleased them. “‘Take—just take them all,’ he would always say; ‘they’re mere nothings. The little bit of pleasure in this world! I’ve had my share, and there’s nothing beyond. And if things get worse—end it!’ “Then that Sunday came. It was in August, and so hot in the morning that the young master-woodman Oswald begged a glass of water of his father on his way to church. “‘When I come back after noon,’ he said to his father, ‘I will pay you for the well with St. John’s blessing.’ He meant by that he would bring wine with him. The old man answered that he ought to take it up to the little wife and the laddie. But they were in want of nothing; the little wife sang from dawn onwards like a lark, and little Anderl had laughed in his sleep as he, Oswald, before going out, had kissed him. “‘Ah, you poor burdened fellow!’ Huntsman Kickel said again, and clapped his son on the shoulder and then ‘Good-bye till this afternoon.’ “About midday a storm arose over the Hochschwab Mountain. It did not rain much, but the thunder crashed heavily several times. An hour later a woodman came down from the hill, who called into the open windows, ‘Huntsman Kickel, look up if you want to see the smoke!’ “‘What’s the matter? What are you shouting for?’ asked Kickel, who was quite alone in the house. “‘The mountain-hut is burning—the lightning struck it.’