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We must beat them and we will! And I am yours all yours as the night when you said good-bye to Kohiseva. And you are mine all mine ... and then, Olof then it will come the one thing I must have to live for...." "KIRKKALA, 7 May 1899." "Dearest, You will not be angry because I write to you? How could you, you who are so good! I would not have written, but I must, for there is so much to tell you.
And perhaps...." His voice broke. "Good-bye, Kyllikki!" It was Sunday afternoon. The lumbermen were getting ready to leave. The young folk of the village, and some of the elders, had come down to the creek at Kohiseva to see them start. The water was almost clear of timber already, the boom was being dragged slowly down the dead water by a few of the men.
And the homestead at Moisio is a well-known place, for they are a stubborn race that hold it; for generations past the masters of Moisio have been known among their neighbours as men of substance, and hard in their dealings to boot unswerving and pitiless as the waters of Kohiseva.
Olof grasped his pole, thrust off the log, and sprang out on it. He took a few powerful strokes, and turned, casting his eyes over the group on the shore. He was looking for one amongst them and found her. "Good-bye!" he cried, waving his hat. "Good-bye good-bye! Come again some day to Kohiseva!" The men waved their hats, the girls fluttered kerchiefs in farewell.
That Sunday afternoon a crowd of people gathered on Kohiseva bridge. There was not room for all, and the banks were thickly lined on either side. There were rumours of unusual doings abroad and folk had come out to see. "Next Sunday afternoon at four," the news had run, "a match at Kohiseva shooting the rapids."
A wild piece of water this; the foam dances furiously in the narrow cut, but it ends as swiftly as the joy of life; over a ledge of rock the waves are flung a couple of fathoms down into the whirlpool called Eva's Pool. Here they check and subside, the channel widens out below, and the water passes on at a slower pace through the easier rapids below. That is Kohiseva.
The daughter at Moisio is well known too; none carries her head so high, and a tender glance from her eyes is more than any of the young men round can boast of having won. Kyllikki is her name and no one ever had such a name at least, folk say there's no such name in the calendar. The lumbermen's rearguard had come to Kohiseva.
There were two gangs of lumbermen in the place, and, as it chanced, men of unusual daring and skill in each. A dispute had arisen between the headmen as to the merits of their respective parties, and the only way to settle it was by a match, the headman of the losing gang to stand treat all round. All Kohiseva was afoot, and many had come in from the villages round.
Once we are agreed, ten fathers could make no difference. I feel now that I can do what I will. "And that is all for now, Kyllikki. You know how anxiously I wait to hear from you your answer means very much to me. But I know it will be clear and true, whichever way it may be. "My address is, Olof Koskela, as above." "KOHISEVA, 2 Oct. 1897. "OLOF, Your letter found me.
The men take up their poles; those on the bridge look expectantly down the river. Kohiseva Rapids are a lordly sight in spring, when the river is full. The strong arch of the bridge spans its powerful neck, and just below, the rapids begin, rushing down the first straight reach with a slight fall here and there.
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