Late on the following day Juriga awoke with a headache. When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the light of the hearth fire, with Palko seated at one side, his legs crossed gypsy fashion, and one arm around Dunaj’s neck. The ruddy curls of the boy mingled with the dog’s soft white hair. Both of them seemed to watch the fire with equal pleasure as it merrily sparkled and crackled away. The whole scene was such an enchanting picture that the old man’s heart was softened. He remembered how he had struck Palko the night before, and for what reason? What ill had the little fellow done?
“Why did I get drunk? I didn’t drink very much, but somehow it went to my head. It’s lucky that Lesina isn’t here today. Yet, if he hadn’t gone away yesterday, I would have returned home as soon as we came out of church; but, being alone, I yielded to temptation as soon as it called to me.” Juriga, heavy-hearted, scratched his head; he would have given anything to have avoided an interview with Palko that morning, being greatly ashamed of himself. What would old Rasga have said if he knew that, on his return home drunk, he had struck and sworn at the lad whom he had committed to his care?
But it was necessary to get over it somehow, so he spoke.
“Search in my cape, Palko, and you will find a little package for you. It’s something they gave me at the marriage feast last night.”
Jumping up, Palko greeted his grandfather heartily, and was soon busy untying knots in an old handkerchief. What treasures were there — sweetmeats of all kinds, candies, cinnamon buns and cakes!
“Is all this for me, Grandfather?” he asked, sinking his teeth in a bun.
“It’s all yours, my son; seeing the way you were treated last night, it’s little enough. With this cursed drink, one doesn’t know what one is doing. At first I tried not to take a drop, but what can you do when all the others press you?”
“Look, Grandfather,” said the boy, “that you struck me last night is nothing. What I am frightened of is that He will go away from here. He has already heard you swear, and I doubt if He can remain where men get drunk.”
The old man stared at Palko, bewildered, not understanding to whom the boy referred.
“Are you speaking of Lesina? He’s not here, and he won’t be free for the rest of the week. I know he doesn’t like drunkenness.”
After washing, Juriga seated himself at the table.
“No, I am not speaking of Uncle Martin,” said Palko. “Have you ever seen a book that describes the country where the sun never goes down?”
“No, son, I’ve never read a book like that; who told you about such a book?”
“Oh, but there is, and it also tells a lot about Jesus!” And Palko began to tell his grandfather how Jesus was born and how a terrible man tried to kill Him, and what He began to do after His return from a far country.
“But, my boy, you are telling me the gospel story of Jesus Christ. You seem to know more of the story than I do in spite of my age. How have you come to know all this?” asked the astonished old man.
Palko started to tell Juriga how it all happened, but just then Liska the wood-cutter entered, and they had to stop. Juriga and Liska went out to start on a new group of trees, but when they were some distance away Palko came running after them.
“What do you want?” asked Juriga.
“Please, dear Grandfather,” the boy’s great eyes as he spoke reminded the old man of the blue mountain lake nearby, when the sun shone upon it. “I pray you do not drink any more. I’m so afraid that Jesus may not stay with us if you continue to drink or swear.”
“Let me alone!” cried the old man, angrily.
But Palko was convinced that his grandfather would drink no more, and as the days lengthened into weeks, the other workers on the mountain began to say to one another, “What has come over Juriga? He goes no more to the tavern.”
Time passed without the opportunity for which Palko longed, namely, to tell his grandfather how he had come upon his great ‘find’. Juriga was so busy cutting trees and preparing the proper wood for the carving and shaping. On returning to the hut at night he just ate the supper which his grandson had prepared for him, and then dropped on his couch to sleep, too tired for any conversation.
Lesina did not return until Saturday, and to Palko he seemed particularly depressed. Palko longed to ask him the cause of his sadness. He remembered his own state of mind the night he cried so bitterly on learning of the death of the Lord Jesus, but as Lesina hardly ever took any notice of him, Palko felt it would be too forward of him to ask about his private affairs.