Part 8 (1/2)

Sikku raised himself slowly and listened. One of the Cossacks began talking in his sleep and tossed his arms about, so Sikku lay down again; but still he could not sleep.

After a while he sat up once more, and since everything was quiet, he stole out from among the sleeping Cossacks and went silently down to the boat at the sh.o.r.e. Here the trusted guard was also asleep, and slept so heavily that he knew nothing of Sikku's doings, although Sikku shoved the boat gently out into the water, sat down in the stern and let the wind drive the boat toward the mainland.

Still the Cossack watchman slept as the boat sped quietly on. He had ridden hard, many, many miles. Little wonder that he slept like a log!

When Sikku felt the boat grate against the land, he climbed softly out, took his old knife from his pocket, and cut the ropes that bound the prisoners. The Cossack still slept. The released prisoners could scarcely believe that they were free. They followed Sikku to the boat, and bound their enemy with the same ropes by which a moment ago they themselves had been bound.

Now at last the Cossack was awake, but too late. He had been made his captives' captive.

”Kill him at once! And then let us row to the island and kill the others while they sleep!” shouted one of the newly freed men.

”No,” said Sikku, who recognized his master's voice. ”Let us rather take their booty and hurry it and ourselves to safety.”

”They have burnt my house and barns, and stolen everything I had,” said the farmer savagely.

”They freed me and gave me food,” said Sikku, who seemed suddenly like a grown man.

Most of the men agreed with Sikku. The Cossacks were not killed, some of the land's folk rode away on the enemy's horses, others drove herds of cattle off to safe hiding-places in the forest, and each person carried away as much as he could of the enemy's plunder. Sikku had chosen his share and was well pleased with it.

Several days after, the warrior bands returned from their raids and took to their s.h.i.+ps again.

Then the folk came out from the depths of the forest and from the mountain caves where they had sought refuge in the hour of danger, and many came from their burnt farms. They gathered at the church to consult together as to what was best to be done now. For one thing, they must decide the fate of the six captive Cossacks,--the five on the island having also been captured.

”Kill them! Kill them!” shouted several.

”No, give them to Sikku,” said others. ”He captured them.”

So the six Cossacks were given to Sikku who exacted the promise from them that they would not fight against Finland any more. Then he let them go, free and unharmed.

The farmer of Anttilla and his wife had settled themselves in a tiny hut on their estate which the enemy, in their headlong haste, had not burned.

”Alas!” said the wife, the first evening they sat in their new poor home. ”If we only had our beautiful cows now!”

”If we only had!” said the farmer.

At that moment they saw a little bareheaded, barefooted boy come from the hillside grove toward the hut, driving before him, with the help of a long-nosed, yellow dog, a herd of nine beautiful cows.

”Isn't that Sikku? And Kettu?” exclaimed the farmer.

”And are not those our cows?” cried the farm mistress.

Yes, it was Sikku; and Kettu; and those were the Anttilla Farm cows that the robbers had taken away with them. Three had been slain, but the nine that were left, Sikku had asked for as his share of the booty.

”Here I come, bringing you nine beautiful cows!” shouted Sikku. He would fain have swung his cap for joy, only he had no cap.

”Darling boy!” ”Is it really you?” exclaimed the farmer and his wife at the same time. Then they embraced Sikku, and patted the cows again and again in their delight.

Kettu had already disappeared in the hut to see whether Miss p.u.s.s.y's broken dish still stood by the water-tub. Miss p.u.s.s.y hissed and spat at him and so there was again war in the land.