The sky was a deep blue, and the snow on the peaks was glistening. The eagle was floating above the rocky crags. The children felt wonderfully happy. Now and then one of the goats would come and lie down near them. Tender little Snowhopper came oftener than any and would rub her head against their shoulders.
They had been sitting quietly for a few hours, drinking in the beauty about them, when Heidi suddenly began to long for the spot where so many flowers grew. In the evening it would be too late to see them, for they always shut their little eyes by then.
“Oh, Clara,” she said hesitatingly, “would you be angry if I went away from you a minute and left you alone? I want to see the flowers; But wait!—” Jumping away, she brought Clara some bunches of fragrant herbs and put them in her lap. Soon after she returned with little Snowhopper.
“So, now you don’t need to be alone,” said Heidi. When Clara had assured her that it would give her pleasure to be left alone with the goats, Heidi started on her walk. Clara slowly handed one leaf after another to the little creature; it became more and more confiding, and cuddling close to the child, ate the herbs out of her hand. It was easy to see how happy it was to be away from the boisterous big goats, which often annoyed it. Clara felt a sensation of contentment such as she had never before experienced. She loved to sit there on the mountainside with the confiding little goat by her. A great desire rose in her heart that hour. She longed to be her own master and be able to help others instead of being helped by them. Many other thoughts and ideas rushed through her mind. How would it be to live up here in continual sunshine? The world seemed so joyous and wonderful all of a sudden. Premonitions of future undreamt-of happiness made her heart beat. Suddenly she threw both arms about the little goat and said: “Oh, little Snowhopper how beautiful it is up here! If I could always stay with you!”
Heidi in the meantime had reached the spot, where, as she had expected, the whole ground was covered with yellow rockroses. Near together in patches the bluebells were nodding gently in the breeze. But all the perfume that filled the air came from the modest little brown flowers that hid their heads between the golden flower-cups. Heidi stood enraptured, drawing in the perfumed air.
Suddenly she turned and ran back to Clara, shouting to her from far: “Oh, you must come, Clara, it is so lovely there. In the evening it won’t be so fine any more. Don’t you think I could carry you?”
“But Heidi,” Clara said, “of course you can’t; you are much smaller than I am. Oh, I wish I could walk!”
Heidi meditated a little. Peter was still lying on the ground. He had been staring down for hours, unable to believe what he saw before him. He had destroyed the chair to get rid of the stranger, and there she was again, sitting right beside his playmate.
Heidi now called to him to come down, but as reply he only grumbled: “Shan’t come.”
“But you must; come quickly, for I want you to help me. Quickly!” urged the child.
“Don’t want to,” sounded the reply.
Heidi hurried up the mountain now and shouted angrily to the boy: “Peter, if you don’t come this minute, I shall do something that you won’t like.”
Those words scared Peter, for his conscience was not clear. His deed had rejoiced him till this moment, when Heidi seemed to talk as if she knew it all. What if the grandfather should hear about it! Trembling with fear, Peter obeyed.
“I shall only come if you promise not to do what you said,” insisted the boy.
“No, no, I won’t. Don’t be afraid,” said Heidi compassionately: “Just come along; it isn’t so hard.”
Peter, on approaching Clara, was told to help raise the lame child from the ground on one side, while Heidi helped on the other. This went easily enough, but difficulties soon followed. Clara was not able to stand alone, and how could they get any further?
“You must take me round the neck,” said Heidi, who had seen what poor guides they made.
The boy, who had never offered his arm to anybody in his life, had to be shown how first, before further efforts could be made. But it was too hard. Clara tried to set her feet forward, but got discouraged.
“Press your feet on the ground more and I am sure it will hurt you less,” suggested Heidi.
“Do you think so?” said Clara, timidly.
But, obeying, she ventured a firmer step and soon another, uttering a little cry as she went.
“Oh, it really has hurt me less,” she said joyfully.
“Try it again,” Heidi urged her. Clara did, and took another step, and then another, and another still. Suddenly she cried aloud: “Oh, Heidi, I can do it. Oh, I really can. Just look! I can take steps, one after another.”
Heidi rapturously exclaimed: “Oh, Clara, can you really? Can you walk? Oh, can you take steps now? Oh, if only grandfather would come! Now you can walk, Clara, now you can walk,” she kept on saying joyfully.
Clara held on tight to the children, but with every new step she became more firm.
“Now you can come up here every day,” cried Heidi. “Now we can walk wherever we want to and you don’t have to be pushed in a chair any more. Now you’ll be able to walk all your life. Oh, what joy!”
Clara’s greatest wish, to be able to be well like other people, had been fulfilled at last. It was not very far to the flowering field. Soon they reached it and sat down among the wealth of
