--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Anderson, Nephi collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 4 number: 5 published: 1901-03 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Nephi Anderson, "The Finding of Olga: A Love Story—II," *Improvement Era* 4, no. 5 (March 1901): 326–332.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0405unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera0405unse start_page: 326 end_page: 332 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1901-03) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera0405unse publication_year: 1901 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1901, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # The Finding of Olga: A Love Story—II THE FINDING OF OLGA. A LOVE STORY OF PIONEER DAYS, IN TWO PARTS. BY NEPHI ANDERSON, AUTHOR OF "ADDED UPON," ETC. PART SECOND. IV. Sergeant Lusk performed his errand, and in due time returned to his company at the front. The last emigration had safely passed, and now their only duty was to watch the movements of the invaders, and do what they could to impel their progress. Sid acted strangely, Horace thought. He would say very little of Olga, except that she was a nice girl, and that the train had reached home safely, so he had heard. It was only accidentally that Horace got an inkling of the true state of affairs, by hearing a fellow-soldier joke with Sidney about that Danish girl and the great "mash" he had made. So Horaee said but little to Sid, but attended strictly to duty. They were now sometimes very near the troops, and ofttimes in danger. On one occasion, they had ridden to the crest of a hill within plain sight of the army, and Horace had the unpleasant sensation of hearing a bullet sing by his ear. They never fired a shot in return, so there was no actual fighting. It is not the purpose of this narrative to tell the story of the "Echo Canyon War." It is enough to say that the government troops were compelled to go into winter quarters outside of Utah. Most of the Utah militia went to their homes, while a small guard THE FINDING OF OLGA. 327 was left in the mountains. Sid went home, and it fell to Horace's lot to remain for sometime into the winter. A number of times he had been dispatched with orders and messages, and each time he had been prompt and exact. Winter came early that season, and it came fierce and fast. The Utah boys were not any too warmly clad, and they would have suffered, perhaps, had it not been for the warm fires of patriotism which burned within their souls, and tempered the outward winds and storm. Horace would have liked to go home to see how the folks were getting along, especially his mother, and, yes, and Olga. No doubt Sid was making the best of his opportunities; but stay at his post of duty he would, if it were all winter. One day the captain called Horace into his tent and asked him if his horse was in good condition. "I think so, sir, about as good as any of our animals." "Well, I have a very important message which must be sent to Salt Lake. The roads are bad and may contain many snowdrifts, but I think you will be able to get through. Will you go?" "Certainly, I think I can get through if anybody can." "Thank you, brother; and God bless you on the way." Early next morning, Horace started. It was early in Decem- ber. The snow was quite deep, as more of it had fallen during the night. And the sky looked as if the storm was not yet over; but Sergeant Lusk's tune was merry, as he rode down the canyon and let his horse pick his way slowly. "He felt for his package of dispatches. They were safe in his inside pocket, next to his own letter and photograph, a photograph of a round doll-like face, with head of smooth hair parted in the middle. He had not yet seen the original, he thought. True, it had been suggested to his mind that the girl by the brook, was Olga, but he could not make her face agree with the one in his own mind, derived he supposed, from studying the picture in his pocket. The two faces would not harmonize. There was something lacking in the face of the emigrant girl. He could not tell what it was; it was such a subtle, indescribable something. Phew! that was a nasty puff of wind. It blew a cloud of loose snow into the rider's face. 328 IMPROVEMENT ERA. The young man was surely dreaming again, though it was broad day, and the sun peeped once in a while from behind the storm clouds which grew heavier and came lower. This time, his dreams clustered around an ideal face. Beginning from the portrait in his pocket, first, the straight-legged chair disappeared: then the round table vanished; then the big circular skirt changed to a dress of softer material which hung in graceful folds; then the hair turned a darker shade, and the eyes were decidedly brown; and at last came that indefinable characteristic into the face which was the essence of the whole picture, and which stamped it indelibly on the heart of this boy. All things must have a name, and the boy had called this being Olga. The storm came with a rush from the mountains, and for a moment, Horace was nearly blinded. His horse stepped slowly through the deeper drifts. The road was hardly discernible at times. About noon, Horace stopped in the lee of a large rock, and fed his horse from a small bag of grain, while he himself ate a lunch. Then he mounted again, but the storm seemed to grow worse. His progress was exceedingly slow, and when the night began to close down, he was not yet out of the canyon. His horse, too, showed signs of giving out; but still he must press on. To stop in such a night would mean sure death. The night came on thick and black, and Horace could do nothing but let his horse pick his way the best he could. He had traveled the road many times before, and the animal would no doubt keep the path. Then Horace felt the cold, and he got ofl[ his horse and walked first by the side, and then behind, in the partly beaten track. In this way, they traveled for a long time, many hours it seemed to the young man. He was not easily tired out, but he now felt his strength failing him. About midnight, he felt sure he was out of the canyon, but whether his horse was traveling north or south he could not tell. He was benumbed with cold, and he could not get warm, struggle as he would. What if he and his message should be lost? Well, he would do his best, and God would have to take care of the rest. On they moved in a sort of blind uncertainty. Horace was on and off his patient horse a number of times, but at last he walked behind. He did not now feel so cold. The night crept THE FINDING OF OLGA. 329 along in its inky darkness and cold, yet there was no end to the journey. Then the mountains seemed to grow brighter, and, suddenly, they were lighted by a strange halo. The hills were blazing with a thousand camp-fires, and marching, marching, in one continuous stream, came an army ready for battle. Horace could see their faces, and they were not the faces of strangers. His brethren were the generals, and majors, and captains. On, on they marched, an innumerable host, and the stirring sound of music echoed through the hills! Then the scene dissolved, and the music became low and sweet. And out from it all came again that one beautiful form and face, smiling sweetly into the face of the boy. V. "Hello! hello! mother, Olga, come out and help me," and Farmer Jensen pounded on the door. Sister Jensen and Olga rushed out in the cold winter morning to see what was the matter. "Here, help me carry him in. Poor fellow, I believe he's one of the militia boys. Found him up the road. Quick, mother, I don't believe he's dead yet." They carried him into the log house and began to work with him. They found the message in his pocket, and as soon as possible, dispatched it on to its destination. With loving hearts and willing hands, they worked over him, and with God's blessings he was saved. When Horace opened his eyes in consciousness, he saw the whitewashed boards and logs of a strange ceiling. It was not home, but he lay perfectly contented, as if he had been in his mother's house. Presently, the door softly opened and a girl came in; Horace marked her dress, the dark hair, the brown eyes, and the face. It was Olga, the Olga of his dreams. She came and sat by his bedside. He held out his hand, and she slipped hers into his big palm. There it rested while they looked unashamed into each other's faces. 330 IMPROVEMENT ERA. Horace improved slowly. Farmer Jensen told him his message had been safely delivered, and that his horse was being well taken care of in the stable. So he was quite satisfied. Why shouldn't he be — he had found Olga, and what was more, Olga had found him. One afternoon, when Horace was sitting propped up in a chair by the fire-place, he heard Olga singing in the other room. Suddenly, it occurred to him that she both spoke and sang English uncommonly well for a recently arrived emigrant. The mystery deepened as he listened to the clear, English pronunciation, in which he could detect a faint foreign accent. At the close of the song, Horace called her name. The girl opened the door, and asked if he wanted anything. "Yes, come in a minute." She took a chair and drew it up to the fireplace. "How did you learn to speak English so well?" he asked. She looked at him as if she did not understand. Horace was a little nervous, and hardly knowing what to say next, took from his pocket an envelope from which he drew a photograph. He handed it to the girl. Olga looked at it for a moment; then she smiled. "Who is it? What an odd-looking girl. It looks just like some old ones of mother's. 0, now I know. It's your girl, isn't it?" She laughed merrily. Horace was considerably bewildered, — — — and blushed as he stammered, "yes no that is I don't know whether she is or not." "Say," began Horace desperately, "isn't your name Olga?" "Yes; of course." "Olga Larsen?" "No; Olga Jensen." "And didn't you come from the old country, a few weeks ago?" "No; it's been ten years ago." "And don't you know a young man by the name of Sid —Sidney Jones?" "Never heard the name before." Then the young man leaned back in the chair and gave a long, low whistle of astonishment; or, perhaps, it was of relief; maybe THE FINDING OF OLGA. 331 of both. Olga was a little startled at his behavior. She came to the back of his chair. He reached around and got both her hands, which he placed over his eyes, in a manner that he had seen girls do to other boys —not to him. "But you're Olga, aren't you?" "Of course, I'm Olga." "Well, that's all right then." Then Sister Jensen came in, and Olga ran off into the other room. It was now on towards Christmas. As soon as the roads had become passable, word had been sent to Horace's mother who had come to see him. Good Sister Jensen said that Horace was not to be taken home, as he was not strong enough. He would spend Christmas with them, and she also was to come. They had plenty of room, and a lot of wheat in the bin yet, which Sister Lusk did not have, so it was an easy matter to arrange that. On Christmas eve, a sleigh drove up to the door. Sidney Jones was the driver, and with him was Sister Lusk and Olga Larsen, a newly arrived emigrant from Denmark, who was staying with Horace's mother. Sister Lusk had thought it her duty to bring her along to see Horace. They ought to become acquainted as soon as possible, and there was that young Sidney visiting a little too frequently. He had actually convinced her that he also ought to go along to see his old comrade in arms. So they were all ushered into the big, warm room, and there were introductions, and hand-shakings. The new-comer could talk very little English, but as all the Jensens, including Olga, could speak Danish, she was not neglected. was surprising what a It vocabulary of Danish words Sid had acquired. To be honest with Sidney, it may as well be said that he had fully made up his mind to speak out the truth to Horace and abide by the result. He was somewhat ashamed of the part he had played, yet deep down, there still lingered a selfish hope. Shall it be said that Sidney's resolutions and hopes were also shared by a good young woman from Denmark? As the evening progressed, Sister Lusk's eyes were opened to the true condition of affairs, and at least two people's hopes 332 IMPROVEMENT ERA: arose into higher regions. Horace's eyes were for Olga, his Olga, and there was only one such in the room. Besides, he was a poor hand at Danish, and he would rather speak "United States," he said. In those days, the Christmas fare was not so elaborate as now; but it was wholesome and seasoned with a good appetite; and then, when the true Christmas of brotherhood and love of God permeates the heart, what need is there for delicacies of food or fineries of dress to bring happiness to a social gathering? So that Christmas eve passed most enjoyably. The older people talked of their experiences, and warmed up each other's hearts by reference to their first love of the Gospel. The young folks had paired. Horace found no trouble in talking to a girl with dark hair and brown eyes. These, seemingly, were the talismans that loosened his tongue. What Sidney and his partner lacked in the oral expression of two languages, they made up by using one universally understood. Sidney went over to Horace. "Excuse me," he said, "but I want to make a bargain with you, Horace." "What is it?" "I'll give you fifty dollars for that photograph in your pocket." Horace took out the envelope, drew out the photo, looked at it for an instant, put it back into its cover, and then handed it to Sidney. "Done." "And with the bargain the original, to boot?" "Certainly; and you, Olga Jensen, are my witness that I sell to Sidney Jones a picture, with all that goes with it, for the sum of fifty dollars, the price of one emigration fare from Denmark to Utah." Sid put the picture into his pocket and walked back.