Wayfarers
Contents
Title Page
Part One
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Part Two
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
Other books by Knut Hamsun
Copyright
TWO MEN CAME TRUDGING NORTHWARD FROM THE neighboring village. They were dark-skinned and had lank grizzled beards. One of them carried a barrel organ on his back.
Nobody in the locality had expected that particular day to bring anything special: then up turned these two strangers. They made for a conspicuous position among the houses, set the barrel organ up on a pole, and began to play. Everybody in the place came flocking round, women and children, the adolescent and the lame; a ring of people formed around the music. There was so little to get excited about, now that it was winter; all the men were away in the Lofotens; nobody danced and nobody sang; the whole village was poor and miserable. These strange minstrels were therefore a great event, something fabulous. An event which it is doubtful if anybody in later life forgot.
One of them turned the handle. There was something wrong with one of his eyes; he seemed blind in it. The other carried a pack, but otherwise did nothing. He was merely the partner. He stood looking down at his shabby boots. Suddenly he snatched off his hat and held it out. How could he possibly expect money in this godforsaken place where everybody was simply hanging on till the spring, when the men got back from the fishing! He got nothing and put his hat on again. He stood for a moment; then he began talking to his companion in a foreign tongue, gradually louder and more insistent. Seemingly he wanted to stop the music and get his companion to come away. But the musician went on playing; he switched to a new piece and he ground out a soft sad melody which moved the audience. One young woman who was a little better off than the rest turned quickly, meaning perhaps to go in and fetch a coin. This the partner must have misunderstood and thought she was leaving altogether. He shouted after her and made a face.
“Ssh!” said the musician to him. “Ssh!” The partner was not the kind of man to be hushed like that. He became furious. He leaped at his companion and struck him. That might not have been so bad, but the half-blind musician could not defend himself. He had to cope with the barrel organ, which stood swaying on its pole. His hands were occupied; he merely ducked his head. A gasp went through the crowd at this unexpected assault. The circle at once spread out; children became frightened and screamed.
It was then that Edevart ran forward, a young lad of thirteen, blond and freckled, wild-eyed with excitement. He was quite reckless, and prepared indeed to face death. He tried to get a trip hold on the assailant.
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