Johanna Spyri: Heidi

‘Where have you got to now, Heidi?’ he called once rather crossly.

‘Here,’ came her voice from behind a little hillock some distance back. It was covered with primulas which had a most delicious scent. Heidi had never smelt anything so lovely before and had sat down among them to enjoy it to the full.

‘Come on,’ called Peter. ‘Uncle said I wasn’t to let you fall over the ravine.’

‘Where’s that?’ she called, without moving.

‘Right up above. We’ve still a long way to go, so do come on. Hear the old hawk croaking away up there?’

Heidi jumped up at this last remark and ran to him with her apron full of flowers.

‘You’ve got enough now,’ he said, as they started to climb again. ‘Don’t pick any more, otherwise you’ll always be lagging behind, and besides, if you keep on, there won’t be any left for tomorrow.’

Heidi saw the sense of this, and anyway her apron was almost full. She kept close to Peter after that, and the goats went on in a more orderly fashion too, for now they could smell the fragrant herbs they loved which grew on their grazing ground, and were anxious to reach them.

Peter usually took up his quarters for the day at the very foot of a rocky mountain peak. On the steep slopes above, there were only a few bushes and stunted fir trees, and the summit itself was just bare rock. On one side was the sheer drop over the ravine which Uncle Alp had spoken of. When they reached this place Peter took off his knapsack and laid it, for safety, in a little hollow, for there were sometimes strong gusts of wind and he had no wish to see his precious food go bowling down the mountain. Then he lay down in the sun to rest after the strenuous climb. Heidi put her apronful of flowers in the same little hollow. Then she sat down beside Peter and looked around her. The valley below was bathed in sunlight. In front of them a snowclad mountain stood out against the blue sky and to the left of this was a huge mass of rock, with jagged twin peaks. Everything was very still. Only a gentle breeze set the blue and yellow flowers nodding on their slender stems.

Peter fell asleep and the goats climbed about among the bushes. Heidi sat quite still, enjoying it all. She gazed so intently at the mountain peaks that soon they seemed to her to have faces and to be looking at her like old friends. Suddenly she heard a loud noise. Looking up, she saw an enormous bird, circling overhead with outstretched wings and croaking harshly as it flew. ‘Peter, Peter, wake up!’ she cried. ‘Here’s the hawk.’ Peter sat up and together they watched as the great bird soared higher and higher into the sky and finally disappeared over the grey peaks.

‘Where’s it gone to?’ asked Heidi, who had never seen a bird as big as that before and had watched its flight with great interest.

‘Home to its nest,’ replied Peter.

‘Does it live right up there? How wonderful! Why does it make such a noise?’

‘Because it has to,’ explained Peter briefly.

‘Let’s climb up and see where it lives,’ she proposed.

‘Oh, no, we won’t! Even the goats can’t climb as high as that, and don’t forget Uncle told me to look after you,’ he said with marked disapproval. To Heidi’s surprise he then began whistling and shouting, but the goats recognized the familiar sounds and came towards him from all directions, though some lingered to nibble a tasty blade of grass, while others butted one another playfully. Heidi jumped up and ran among them, delighted to see them so obviously enjoying themselves. She spoke to each one, and every one was different and easily distinguishable from the others.

Meanwhile Peter opened his bag and spread its contents out in a square on the ground, two large portions for Heidi and two smaller ones for himself. Then he filled the mug with milk from Daisy and placed it in the middle of the square. He called to Heidi, but she was slower to come than the goats had been. She was so busy with her new playmates that she had ears and eyes for nothing else. He went on calling till his voice re‐echoed from the rocks and at last she appeared. When she saw the meal laid out so invitingly, she skipped up and down with pleasure.

‘Stop jigging about,’ said Peter, ‘it’s dinner time. Sit down and begin.’

‘Is the milk for me?’

‘Yes, and those huge pieces of bread and cheese. I’ll get you another mugful from Daisy when you’ve drunk that one. Then I’ll have a drink myself.’

‘Where will you get yours from?’ she inquired.

‘From my own goat, Spot. Now start eating.’

She drank the milk, but ate only a small piece of bread and passed the rest over to Peter, with the cheese. ‘You can have that,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough.’ He looked at her with amazement for he had never in his life had any food to give away. At first he hesitated, thinking she must be joking, but she went on holding it out to him and finally put it on his knee. This convinced him that she really meant what she said, so he took it, nodded his thanks and settled down to enjoy the feast. Heidi meanwhile sat watching the goats.

‘What are they all called, Peter?’ she asked presently.

Peter did not know a great deal, but this was a question he could answer without difficulty. He told her all the names, pointing to each animal in turn. She listened attentively and soon knew one from the other. Each had little tricks by which it could easily be recognized by anyone looking at them closely, as she was doing. Big Turk had strong horns, and was always trying to butt the others, so they kept out of his way as much as possible. The only one to answer him back was a frisky little kid called Finch, with sharp little horns, and Turk was generally too astonished at such impudence to make a fight of it. Heidi was particularly attracted to a little white goat called Snowflake, which was bleating most pitifully. She had tried earlier to comfort it. Now she ran up to it again, put her arm round its neck, and asked fondly, ‘What’s the matter, Snowflake? What are you crying for?’ At that, the goat nestled against her and stopped bleating.

Peter had not yet finished his meal, but he called out between mouthfuls, ‘She’s crying because her mother doesn’t come up here any more. She’s been sold to someone in Mayenfeld.’

‘Where’s her grandmother then?’

‘Hasn’t got one.’

‘Or her grandfather?’

‘Hasn’t one.’

‘Poor Snowflake,’ said Heidi, hugging the little animal again. ‘Don’t cry any more. I shall be up here every day now, and you can always come to me if you feel lonely.’ Snowflake rubbed her head on the little girl’s shoulder, and seemed to be comforted.

Peter had now finished eating, and came up to Heidi who was making fresh discoveries all the time. She noticed that Daisy and Dusky seemed more independent than the other goats and carried themselves with a sort of dignity. They led the way as the herd went up to the bushes again. Some of them stopped here and there to sample a tasty herb, others went straight up, leaping over any small obstacles in their path. Turk was up to his tricks as usual, but Daisy and Dusky ignored him completely and were soon nibbling daintily at the leaves of the two thickest bushes. Heidi watched them for some time. Then she turned to Peter, who was lying full length on the grass.

‘Daisy and Dusky are the prettiest of all the goats,’ she said.

‘I know. That’s Uncle — he keeps them very clean and gives them salt and he has a fine stall for them,’ he replied. Then he suddenly jumped up and ran after his herd, with Heidi close behind, anxious not to miss anything. He had noticed that inquisitive little Finch was right at the edge of the ravine, where the ground fell away so steeply that if it went any farther, it might go over and would certainly break its legs. Peter stretched out his hands to catch hold of the little kid, but he slipped and fell, though he managed to grasp one of its legs and Finch, highly indignant at such treatment, struggled wildly to get away. ‘Heidi, come here,’ called Peter, ‘come and help.’