At last the
father, too, died, and each son, feeling sure that he was the elder,
laid claim to the farm. For well nigh a year they kept wrangling and
fighting, each threatening to burn the house over the other's head if
he dared to take possession of it. The matter was finally adjusted by
the opportune intervention of a neighbor who stood in high repute for
wisdom. At his suggestion, they should each plant side by side a twig
or sprout of some tree or herb, and he to whose plant God gave growth
should be the owner of the farm. This advice was accepted; for God,
both thought, was a safer arbiter than man. One of the brothers, Arne,
chose a fern (_Ormgrass_), and the other, Ulf, a sweet-brier. A week
later, they went with the wise man and two other neighbors to the
remote pasture at the edge of the glacier where, by common consent,
they had made their appeal to the judgment of heaven. Arne's fern
stood waving in dewy freshness in the morning breeze; but Ulf's
sweet-brier lay prostrate upon the ground, as if uprooted by some
hostile hand. The eyes of the brothers met in a long, ill-boding
glance.
"This is not heaven's judgment," muttered Ulf, under his breath.
"Methinks I know the hand that has wrought this dastardly deed.
Pages:
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97