"Then we shall wait a good while for our dinner," said Maggie.

"Are you hungry? It is only half-past eleven."

"No, I am not hungry yet, but a bonfire takes a good while, you know, and I want to get to the reading."

"Come! we might read an hour," said Meredith rousing himself up.

"No, Ditto, that would bring it to half-past twelve, and that would never do."

"Well, then, I will go trim, and we'll have the bonfire going in a few minutes. Where will you have it?"

Maggie sought out a good spot, while Meredith took his hatchet and went to work, clearing the lopped branches of their smaller leafy twigs which were for the fire, and cutting in two the branches which were not worth tr.i.m.m.i.n.g. There was a nice piece of work then to drag them to the bonfire place, for it was needful to choose an open, free s.p.a.ce for making the fire, where the flames would not mount or be blown into the tops of trees that were to be left standing, and so scorch and injure them. No such open s.p.a.ce was at command in the close neighbourhood of the cutting, so the stuff for the fire had to be transported some distance. Maggie and Meredith worked away at it, and Maggie called Esther and Meredith summoned Flora to help; and soon they were all heartily engaged, and running to and fro with armfuls, or dragging behind them on the ground the heavy umbrageous branches they might not carry. Presently Meredith stopped and collected a little bunch of dry sticks and leaves which he heaped together, tucked paper under, and laid crisp hemlock and cedar cuttings on top. Then a match was kindled and fire applied. They all watched to see it, lighting, crackling, smoking,--then the slender upshoot of flame--and Meredith began to pile on pine branches thick and fast. At first rose a thick column of smoke, for the fuel was fat and resinous and the fire had not got under way.

Redoubling, soft, black and brown reeking curls, through which the sun shot his beams here and there lighting them up to golden amber. "What tints and what forms!" Meredith exclaimed. And then another light and another colour began to come into the others; tiny up-darting shoots of fire, another illumination rivalling and contrasting with the sunlight which struck the column higher up. Meredith stood still to watch it, while even Flora and Esther were dragging more branches of yellow pine to the fire and throwing them on emulously, till the pile grew and grew, and Maggie was working her cheeks into a purple state with her exertions. Half-a-dozen thick pine branches flung on, and the fire would be stifled and the smoke rise thicker and blacker, with the sunlight always catching the upper curls; then crackling and snapping and breathing, the fire would get hold, get the better, mount through the thick, enc.u.mbering piney foliage, and dart its slender living spires up into the column of smoke again.

"Do see how he stands!" cried Flora. "Ditto, why don't you work?"

"I am looking."

"Did you never see a bonfire before?"

"Never such a beauty of a one."

"Beauty!" said Flora, coming to his side to look--"where is the beauty?

It is just a good fire. You are a ridiculous boy, Meredith. Go to work."

"Oh, don't you think it is pretty?" cried Maggie, throwing down her last burden and panting. "I think it is _lovely_! And do you smell how sweet it is, Flora?"

"She is a poor girl without nose or eyes," said Meredith. "Well, here goes!"

Taking hold of the work again, his powerful arms flung the branches and tops of pine on the burning heap, while the girls ran for more. It took a strong arm now, for the fire was so large and so fierce that one could not come nigh it. Meredith kept the girls all at a distance and himself fed the flames, till all the present stock of fuel was laid on, and the wood-choppers went off to their dinner. There was no more to be done then but to watch the show, and as the fire began to lessen and die down, find a spot where the tea-kettle might be set, at the edge of the glowing heap. It was no use to begin to read, they all agreed, till they had their dinner. And soon the coffee could be made; and the four enjoyed their meal as only those can who have worked for it. They had their chicken pie and their roasted sweet potatoes, the omelet they for to-day dispensed with, being all tired. They took their dinner on the bank, there where they could look away down to the river and see the hilly sh.o.r.es beyond on the other side; and Meredith averred that sweet potatoes never were so sweet before.

"Such air!" said he; "and such colouring!"

"And it is just warm enough," added Maggie.

"Well, I have got cooled off now," said Flora, "but I consider feeding bonfires to be hot work."

Then, when dinner was over, and the things packed into the cart, they arranged themselves on the moss in a delicious feeling of resting and refreshed langour; the girls took out their fancy work, and Meredith opened his book. Maggie, who did not trouble herself about fancy work, crept close to his side and looked with fascinated eyes at the strange characters out of which he brought such delightful things to her ears.

"'It was about the year 940, according to the chronicle, that a boy of thirteen or fourteen years old was herding his father's cattle on the waste land not far from Hermannsburg, when there came along a splendid train of armed cavaliers riding their horses proudly. The boy looks with delight on the shining helmets and coats of mail, the glittering spears and the stately hors.e.m.e.n, and the thought rises in his heart--"Now that looks something like!" All of a sudden the hors.e.m.e.n quit the road, which here wound about crookedly, and come riding across country, over the open land where he is keeping his cattle. That seems to him too bad, for the field is no highway, and the ground belongs to his father. He considers a moment, then goes forward to meet the riders, plants himself in their course, and calls out to them--"Turn back! the road is yours, the field is mine." There is a tall man riding at the head of the troop, on whose brow a grave majesty is enthroned, he looks wonderingly at the boy who has dared to put himself in his way. He checks his horse, taking a certain pleasure in the spirited little fellow, who returns his look so boldly and fearlessly and never budges from his place.

"'"Who are you, boy?"

"'"I am Hermann Billing's oldest son, and my name is Hermann too, and this field is my father's, and you must not ride over it."

"'"But I will, boy," answered the rider with threatening sternness. "Get out of the way, or I throw you down"--and with that he lifts his spear.

The boy, however, stands fearlessly still, looks up at the horseman with eyes of fire and says--

"'"Right is right; and you have no business to ride over this field, you shall ride over me if you do."

"'"What do you know about the right, boy?"

"'"My father is the Billing, and I shall be Billing after him," answered the boy, "and n.o.body may do a wrong before a Billing."

"'Then still more threateningly the rider called out--"Is _this_ right then, boy, to refuse obedience to your king? I am your king, Otto."

"'"You Otto? our king? the shield of Germany and the flower of the Saxons, that my father tells us so much about? Otto the son of Heinrich the Saxon? No, that you are not. Otto the king guards the right, and you are doing the wrong. Otto don't do that, my father says."

"'"Take me to your father, my good boy," answered the king, and an unwonted gentleness and kindliness beamed upon his stern face.

"'"Yonder is my father's dwelling-house, you can see it," said Hermann, "but my father has trusted the cattle here to me and I cannot leave them, so I cannot bring you there. But if you are King Otto, turn off out of the field into the road, for the king guards the law."

"'And King Otto the first, surnamed the Great, obeyed the boy's voice, for the boy was in the right, and rode back to the road. Presently Hermann was fetched from the field. The king had gone into his father's house and had said to him, "Billing, give me your oldest son and let him go with me, I will have him brought up at court, he is going to be a true man, and I have need of true men." And what true Saxon could refuse anything to a king like Otto?

"'So the brave boy was to journey forward with his king, and when Otto asked him, "Hermann, will you go with me?" the boy answered gladly, "I will go with you; you are the king, for you protect the right."

"'So King Otto took the boy along with him, that he might have him brought up to be a faithful and capable servant of the crown. Otto was allied in the bonds of warmest friendship with Adaldag, the archbishop of Bremen, a man who was distinguished for his learning, his piety, and a lively zeal for the spread of Christianity among the then heathen Danes and Nors.e.m.e.n. Otto could not confide the boy who had become so dear to him to a better teacher; and so he sent him to Adaldag at Bremen. Adaldag, too, recognised the great gifts which G.o.d had bestowed on the boy, and had him instructed under his own eye by the most able ecclesiastics; among whom a certain _Raginbrand_ is especially named, who later was appointed to be bishop and preacher to the heathen in Denmark, and laboured there with great faithfulness and a great blessing. In Bremen Hermann grew up to be a good young man, loving his Saviour from his heart; but also he was instructed in the use of arms and in the business of the state, for Adaldag was at that time one of King Otto's most confidential advisers. And now Otto took the young Hermann into his court; and soon could perceive that he had not deceived himself when his acuteness discerned the boy's lofty nature. Spirit, daring, and keen intelligence shot in fire from the young man's blue eyes; his uncommonly fine figure had been grandly developed by knightly exercises; and, with all that, he was so humble-hearted, and attached to his benefactor with such grateful, touching devotion, that Otto's eyes rested on him with pleasure, and he often called Hermann his truest friend, even called him "his son." But the loveliest thing in Hermann was, that he never forgot his origin: he showed the most charming kindness to those who were poor and mean; so that high and low at the king's court respected as much as they loved him. So he mounted from step to step, was dubbed a knight, attended the king on his journeys and campaigns, and the king even intrusted to him the education of his two sons Wilhelm and Ludolf. Still later he administered the most important offices of state to the satisfaction of the king; and often travelled through the country of the Saxons as _Graf_, _i.e._, a judge.

"'That is: The judgment of criminal cases, or the tribunal of life and death, in the whole German fatherland was vested in the king alone.

Therefore at certain times the royal judges made a progress through the entire German country. They were called _Grawen_, from the word _graw_ or _grau_' (that means, 'grey,' Maggie,) 'because ordinarily old, experienced, eminent men were chosen for the office. These courts for cases of life and death were holden by the Grafs under the open sky, in public, and in full daylight, so that the judgment p.r.o.nounced could be at once carried into execution. Our chronicle takes this occasion to relate a story about our Hermann Billing, which sets in a clear light the pure character of this admirable man. In his journeyings as Graf, he came also to his native place, to Harm's _ouden dorp_. It was then long after his father's death; and as head of the family he had distributed his seven manor-farms, as fiefs, partly to his brothers, partly to other near relations. The great honours to which Hermann had been elevated had become the ruin of these men; they behaved themselves proudly towards their neighbours, and even took unrighteous ways to enlarge their boundaries, secure in the belief that no one would dare to call them in question about it, whilst they had such a powerful brother and kinsman.

Now, when Hermann, after the accustomed fashion, was holding the criminal court on the _Grawenberg_ (where now the _grauen_ farm lies, half an hour from Hermannsburg) there presented himself a certain Conrad, a freiling, that is, a free man, and accused the holders of Hermann's fiefs, that they had by violent and unjust means taken from him half his farm and joined it to their own estates.

"'Hermann's face, at other times so gentle and kind, grew dark, and with deep sadness but with a lofty severity he ordered his brothers and kinsmen to be brought before him. Conrad's charge was proved to be true, for the Billings could not lie, even if they had done injustice. And what did Hermann? When the acts of violence that his brothers and relations had done were proved, great tears flowed down the cheeks of the tall strong man, and he cried out with a voice which his tears half choked, "Could you do that, and bear the name of Billing!" He said no more, but was seen to fold his hands and pray with the greatest earnestness. Then he spoke: "My brothers and kinsmen, make your peace now with G.o.d; we look upon each other for the last time. You are guilty of death; you must die; you have doubly deserved death, because you are of the race of Billing."

"'The priests, who were always in attendance on the tribunal of life and death where Hermann was the judge, came forward; in the grounds of the court they received the criminals' confession, and upon their penitent acknowledgment of their sin, gave them a.s.surance of forgiveness and then the bread that represents the Lord's body. So, reconciled with G.o.d, the seven men came back to the place of judgment; and after Hermann had again prayed with them and commended the penitents to the Lord, he had their heads struck off before his eyes.'"

Meredith stopped perforce, for a storm of exclamations burst upon him.

"Horrible!" "Frightful!" "I never heard of such an awful man!"

"I think he was rather an awful man," said Meredith. "I have no doubt all ill-doers would have held him in a good deal of awe."

"But his own brothers!" said Esther.

"They were convicted criminals, all the same."

"But don't you think a man ought to spare his own!"

"A man--yes. A judge--no."

"But a judge is a man."

"I should think it was very disagreeable for a man to be a judge," said Meredith.

"But why?" asked Flora. "I should think it was nice, just for that reason, that a man could spare people he wanted to spare."

"Flora Franklin!" exclaimed her brother. "Is that your idea of a judge?"

"It is my idea of a man."