Johanna Spyri - Heidi: Adapted for Young Readers

F ROM THE charming little old town of Mayenfeld, a footpath leads through green, well-wooded stretches to the foot of the heights which look down upon the valley. Where the footpath begins to go steeply up the Alps, the heath, with its short grass and herbs, at once sends out its soft perfume to meet the wayfarer.

One bright sunny morning in June, a tall maiden of the mountain region climbed up the narrow path, leading a little girl by the hand. The youngsters cheeks were in such a glow that it showed even through her sun-browned skin. Small wonder though! For in spite of the heat, the little one, who was scarcely five years old, was bundled up as if she had to brave a bitter frost. She wore two dresses, if not three, and around her shoulders a large red shawl. With her feet encased in heavy boots, this hot little person toiled up the mountain.

This pair had been climbing about an hour when they reached the little village halfway up the great mountain named the Aim. It was the maidens hometown, and when she reached the end of the village a pleasant-looking young woman named Barbara stepped out of a house and joined them.

Where are you taking the child, Deta? she asked. Is she the child your sister left?

She wore two dresses, if not three,
and around her shoulders a large red shawl .

Yes, Deta said. I am taking her up to the Alm-Uncle and there I want her to remain.

You cant really mean to take her there!

Why not? Hes her grandfather, and it is high time he should do something for the child. I have taken care of her until this summer and now a good place has been offered to me. The child shall not hinder me from accepting it.

It would not be so bad, if he were like other people. But you know him yourself. How could he look after a child, especially such a little one? Shell never get along with him.But tell me of your prospects.

I am going to a splendid house in Frankfurt, to work for some nice people.

I am glad I am not the child! exclaimed Barbara. Nobody knows anything about the old mans life up there. He doesnt speak to a living soul, and from one years end to the other he keeps away from church. People get out of his way when he appears once a year among us. We all fear him, with those thick gray eyebrows and that huge beard. When he wanders along the road with his twisted stick we are all afraid.

That is not my fault, said Deta. He wont do her any harm; and if he should, he is responsible, not I.

Barbara had long been anxious to know something about the old uncle and why he lived apart from everybody. She could not even explain to herself why he was called the Aim-Uncle. He could not possibly be the uncle of all the people in the village, but since everybody spoke of him so, she did the same. She seized Detas arm and said, I wish you would tell me what has happened to the old man to turn everybody against him so? Did he always hate his fellow-creatures?

I cannot tell whether he always did, and that for a very good reason: he being sixty years old, and I only twenty-six. But I can tell you a good deal. My mother and he both came from Domleschg. Deta looked around to see that the child was not so close to them as to overhear what might be said; but the little girl was nowhere to be seen. Deta, standing still, looked about everywhere, but no one was on the path.

There she is! exclaimed Barbara, pointing to a spot a good distance from the path. She is climbing up with the goatherd Peter and his goats. I wonder why he is so late today. I must say, it suits us well enough; he can look after the child while you tell me everything.

It will be very easy for Peter to watch her, remarked Deta. She is bright for her five years and keeps her eyes wide open. That will be useful with the uncle. He has nothing left in the whole wide world but his cottage and two goats!

Did he once have more? asked Barbara.

I should say so. He was heir to a large farm in Domleschg. But setting up to play the fine gentleman, he soon lost everything with drink and play. His parents died with grief and he himself disappeared from these parts. After many years he came back with a half-grown boy, his son. Tobias, that was his name, became a carpenter and turned out to be a quiet, steady fellow. Many strange rumors went round about the uncle and I think that was why he left. We acknowledged the relationship, my mothers grandmother being a cousin of his. We called him uncle, and because we are related on my fathers side to nearly all the people in the hamlet they too all called him uncle. He was named Aim-Uncle when he moved up to the Alm.

But what happened to Tobias? asked Barbara.

How can I tell you everything at once? Tobias was an apprentice in Mels, and when he was made master, he came home to the village and married my sister Adleheid. They always had been fond of each other and they lived very happily as man and wife. But their joy was short. Two years afterwards, when Tobias was helping to build a house, a beam fell on him and killed him. Adelheid was thrown into a violent fever with grief and fright, and never recovered from it. She had never been strong and only a few weeks after Tobias death they buried poor Adelheid. After the death of his son, the Aim-uncle never spoke to a living soul. Suddenly he moved up to the Alp, to live there at odds with God and man. My mother and I took Adelheids little year-old baby, Heidi, to live with us. When I went to Ragatz I took her with me; but in the spring the family whose work I had done last year came from Frankfurt and resolved to take me to their townhouse. I am very glad to get such a good position.

And now you want to hand over the child to this terrible old man! said Barbara with reproach.

It seems to me I have really done enough for the child. I do not know where else to take her, as she is too young to come with me to Frankfurt. Deta shook hands with Barbara and bade her friend goodbye, setting off up the path.

Heidi and Peter in the meantime were ascending slowly in a zigzag way, the boy always knowing where to find all sorts of good grazing places for his goats where they could nibble. The poor little girl had followed the boy only with the greatest effort and she was panting in her heavy clothes. She did not say anything but looked enviously at Peter, who jumped about so easily in his light trousers and bare feet. She envied even more the goats that climbed over bushes, stones and steep inclines with their slender legs. Suddenly sitting down, the child took off her shoes and stockings. Getting up, she undid the shawl and the two little dresses. Wearing only a light petticoat, in sheer delight at the relief, she threw up her arms that were bare up to her short sleeves. To save the trouble of carrying them, her aunt had dressed her in her Sunday clothes over her workday garments. Heidi now joined Peter and the goats. She was as light-footed as any of them.

At last the children reached the summit in front of the boys ramshackle hut, where he, his mother and grandmother lived. When Deta saw them, she cried out: Heidi, what have you done? Where are your dresses and your shawl?

The child pointed down and said, There.

The aunt followed in the direction of her finger and saw the heap.

Naughty child! declared Deta. Why have you taken your things off?