The big tame goosey-gander that had followed them up in the air, felt
very proud of being permitted to travel back and forth over the South
country with the wild geese, and crack jokes with the tame birds. But in
spite of his keen delight, he began to tire as the afternoon wore on. He
tried to take deeper breaths and quicker wing-strokes, but even so he
remained several goose-lengths behind the others.
When the wild geese who flew last, noticed that the tame one couldn't
keep up with them, they began to call to the goose who rode in the
centre of the angle and led the procession: "Akka from Kebnekaise! Akka
from Kebnekaise!" "What do you want of me?" asked the leader. "The white
one will be left behind; the white one will be left behind." "Tell him
it's easier to fly fast than slow!" called the leader, and raced on as
before.
The goosey-gander certainly tried to follow the advice, and increase his
speed; but then he became so exhausted that he sank away down to the
drooping willows that bordered the fields and meadows.
"Akka, Akka, Akka from Kebnekaise!" cried those who flew last and saw
what a hard time he was having. "What do you want now?" asked the
leader--and she sounded awfully angry. "The white one sinks to the
earth; the white one sinks to the earth." "Tell him it's easier to fly
high than low!" shouted the leader, and she didn't slow up the least
little bit, but raced on as before.
The goosey-gander tried also to follow this advice; but when he wanted
to raise himself, he became so winded that he almost burst his breast.
"Akka, Akka!" again cried those who flew last. "Can't you let me fly in
peace?" asked the leader, and she sounded even madder than before.
"The white one is ready to collapse." "Tell him that he who has not the
strength to fly with the flock, can go back home!" cried the leader. She
certainly had no idea of decreasing her speed--but raced on as before.
"Oh! is that the way the wind blows," thought the goosey-gander. He
understood at once that the wild geese had never intended to take him
along up to Lapland. They had only lured him away from home in sport.
He felt thoroughly exasperated. To think that his strength should fail
him now, so he wouldn't be able to show these tramps that even a tame
goose was good for something! But the most provoking thing of all was
that he had fallen in with Akka from Kebnekaise. Tame goose that he was,
he had heard about a leader goose, named Akka, who was more than a
hundred years old. She had such a big name that the best wild geese in
the world followed her. But no one had such a contempt for tame geese
as Akka and her flock, and gladly would he have shown them that he was
their equal.
He flew slowly behind the rest, while he deliberated whether he should
turn back or continue. Finally, the little creature that he carried on
his back said: "Dear Morten Goosey-gander, you know well enough that it
is simply impossible for you, who have never flown, to go with the wild
geese all the way up to Lapland. Won't you turn back before you kill
yourself?"
But the farmer's lad was about the worst thing the goosey-gander knew
anything about, and as soon as it dawned on him that this puny creature
actually believed that he couldn't make the trip, he decided to stick it
out. "If you say another word about this, I'll drop you into the first
ditch we ride over!" said he, and at the same time his fury gave him so
much strength that he began to fly almost as well as any of the others.
It isn't likely that he could have kept this pace up very long, neither
was it necessary; for, just then, the sun sank quickly; and at sunset
the geese flew down, and before the boy and the goosey-gander knew what
had happened, they stood on the shores of Vomb Lake.
"They probably intend that we shall spend the night here," thought the
boy, and jumped down from the goose's back.
He stood on a narrow beach by a fair-sized lake. It was ugly to look
upon, because it was almost entirely covered with an ice-crust that was
blackened and uneven and full of cracks and holes--as spring ice
generally is.
The ice was already breaking up. It was loose and floating and had a
broad belt of dark, shiny water all around it; but there was still
enough of it left to spread chill and winter terror over the place.
On the other side of the lake there appeared to be an open and light
country, but where the geese had lighted there was a thick pine-growth.
It looked as if the forest of firs and pines had the power to bind the
winter to itself. Everywhere else the ground was bare; but beneath the
sharp pine-branches lay snow that had been melting and freezing, melting
and freezing, until it was hard as ice.
The boy thought he had struck an arctic wilderness, and he was so
miserable that he wanted to scream. He was hungry too. He hadn't eaten a
bite the whole day. But where should he find any food? Nothing eatable
grew on either ground or tree in the month of March.
Yes, where was he to find food, and who would give him shelter, and who
would fix his bed, and who would protect him from the wild beasts?
For now the sun was away and frost came from the lake, and darkness sank
down from heaven, and terror stole forward on the twilight's trail, and
in the forest it began to patter and rustle.
Now the good humour which the boy had felt when he was up in the air,
was gone, and in his misery he looked around for his travelling
companions. He had no one but them to cling to now.
Then he saw that the goosey-gander was having even a worse time of it
than he. He was lying prostrate on the spot where he had alighted; and
it looked as if he were ready to die. His neck lay flat against the
ground, his eyes were closed, and his breathing sounded like a feeble
hissing.
"Dear Morten Goosey-Gander," said the boy, "try to get a swallow of
water! It isn't two steps to the lake."
But the goosey-gander didn't stir.
The boy had certainly been cruel to all animals, and to the
goosey-gander in times gone by; but now he felt that the goosey-gander
was the only comfort he had left, and he was dreadfully afraid of losing
him.
At once the boy began to push and drag him, to get him into the water,
but the goosey-gander was big and heavy, and it was mighty hard work for
the boy; but at last he succeeded.
The goosey-gander got in head first. For an instant he lay motionless in
the slime, but soon he poked up his head, shook the water from his eyes
and sniffed. Then he swam, proudly, between reeds and seaweed.
The wild geese were in the lake before him. They had not looked around
for either the goosey-gander or for his rider, but had made straight
for the water. They had bathed and primped, and now they lay and gulped
half-rotten pond-weed and water-clover.
The white goosey-gander had the good fortune to spy a perch. He grabbed
it quickly, swam ashore with it, and laid it down in front of the boy.
"Here's a thank you for helping me into the water," said he.
It was the first time the boy had heard a friendly word that day. He was
so happy that he wanted to throw his arms around the goosey-gander's
neck, but he refrained; and he was also thankful for the gift. At first
he must have thought that it would be impossible to eat raw fish, and
then he had a notion to try it.
He felt to see if he still had his sheath-knife with him; and, sure
enough, there it hung--on the back button of his trousers, although it
was so diminished that it was hardly as long as a match. Well, at any
rate, it served to scale and cleanse fish with; and it wasn't long
before the perch was eaten.
When the boy had satisfied his hunger, he felt a little ashamed because
he had been able to eat a raw thing. "It's evident that I'm not a human
being any longer, but a real elf," thought he.
While the boy ate, the goosey-gander stood silently beside him. But when
he had swallowed the last bite, he said in a low voice: "It's a fact
that we have run across a stuck-up goose folk who despise all tame
birds."
"Yes, I've observed that," said the boy.
"What a triumph it would be for me if I could follow them clear up to
Lapland, and show them that even a tame goose can do things!"
"Y-e-e-s," said the boy, and drawled it out because he didn't believe
the goosey-gander could ever do it; yet he didn't wish to contradict
him. "But I don't think I can get along all alone on such a journey,"
said the goosey-gander. "I'd like to ask if you couldn't come along and
help me?" The boy, of course, hadn't expected anything but to return to
his home as soon as possible, and he was so surprised that he hardly
knew what he should reply. "I thought that we were enemies, you and I,"
said he. But this the goosey-gander seemed to have forgotten entirely.
He only remembered that the boy had but just saved his life.
"I suppose I really ought to go home to father and mother," said the
boy. "Oh! I'll get you back to them some time in the fall," said the
goosey-gander. "I shall not leave you until I put you down on your own
doorstep."
The boy thought it might be just as well for him if he escaped showing
himself before his parents for a while. He was not disinclined to favour
the scheme, and was just on the point of saying that he agreed to
it--when they heard a loud rumbling behind them. It was the wild geese
who had come up from the lake--all at one time--and stood shaking the
water from their backs. After that they arranged themselves in a long
row--with the leader-goose in the centre--and came toward them.
As the white goosey-gander sized up the wild geese, he felt ill at ease.
He had expected that they should be more like tame geese, and that he
should feel a closer kinship with them. They were much smaller than he,
and none of them were white. They were all gray with a sprinkling of
brown. He was almost afraid of their eyes. They were yellow, and shone
as if a fire had been kindled back of them. The goosey-gander had always
been taught that it was most fitting to move slowly and with a rolling
motion, but these creatures did not walk--they half ran. He grew most
alarmed, however, when he looked at their feet. These were large, and
the soles were torn and ragged-looking. It was evident that the wild
geese never questioned what they tramped upon. They took no by-paths.
They were very neat and well cared for in other respects, but one could
see by their feet that they were poor wilderness-folk.
The goosey-gander only had time to whisper to the boy: "Speak up quickly
for yourself, but don't tell them who you are!"--before the geese were
upon them.
When the wild geese had stopped in front of them, they curtsied with
their necks many times, and the goosey-gander did likewise many more
times. As soon as the ceremonies were over, the leader-goose said: "Now
I presume we shall hear what kind of creatures you are."
"There isn't much to tell about me," said the goosey-gander. "I was born
in Skanor last spring. In the fall I was sold to Holger Nilsson of West
Vemminghög, and there I have lived ever since." "You don't seem to have
any pedigree to boast of," said the leader-goose. "What is it, then,
that makes you so high-minded that you wish to associate with wild
geese?" "It may be because I want to show you wild geese that we tame
ones may also be good for something," said the goosey-gander. "Yes, it
would be well if you could show us that," said the leader-goose. "We
have already observed how much you know about flying; but you are more
skilled, perhaps, in other sports. Possibly you are strong in a swimming
match?" "No, I can't boast that I am," said the goosey-gander. It seemed
to him that the leader-goose had already made up her mind to send him
home, so he didn't much care how he answered. "I never swam any farther
than across a marl-ditch," he continued. "Then I presume you're a crack
sprinter," said the goose. "I have never seen a tame goose run, nor have
I ever done it myself," said the goosey-gander; and he made things
appear much worse than they really were.
The big white one was sure now that the leader-goose would say that
under no circumstances could they take him along. He was very much
astonished when she said: "You answer questions courageously; and he who
has courage can become a good travelling companion, even if he is
ignorant in the beginning. What do you say to stopping with us for a
couple of days, until we can see what you are good for?" "That suits
me!" said the goosey-gander--and he was thoroughly happy.
Thereupon the leader-goose pointed with her bill and said: "But who is
that you have with you? I've never seen anything like him before."
"That's my comrade," said the goosey-gander. "He's been a goose-tender
all his life. He'll be useful all right to take with us on the trip."
"Yes, he may be all right for a tame goose," answered the wild one.
"What do you call him?" "He has several names," said the
goosey-gander--hesitantly, not knowing what he should hit upon in a
hurry, for he didn't want to reveal the fact that the boy had a human
name. "Oh! his name is Thumbietot," he said at last. "Does he belong to
the elf family?" asked the leader-goose. "At what time do you wild geese
usually retire?" said the goosey-gander quickly--trying to evade that
last question. "My eyes close of their own accord about this time."
One could easily see that the goose who talked with the gander was very
old. Her entire feather outfit was ice-gray, without any dark streaks.
The head was larger, the legs coarser, and the feet were more worn than
any of the others. The feathers were stiff; the shoulders knotty; the
neck thin. All this was due to age. It was only upon the eyes that time
had had no effect. They shone brighter--as if they were younger--than
any of the others!
She turned, very haughtily, toward the goosey-gander. "Understand, Mr.
Tame-goose, that I am Akka from Kebnekaise! And that the goose who flies
nearest me--to the right--is Iksi from Vassijaure, and the one to the
left, is Kaksi from Nuolja! Understand, also, that the second right-hand
goose is Kolmi from Sarjektjakko, and the second, left, is Neljä from
Svappavaara; and behind them fly Viisi from Oviksfjällen and Kuusi from
Sjangeli! And know that these, as well as the six goslings who fly
last--three to the right, and three to the left--are all high mountain
geese of the finest breed! You must not take us for land-lubbers who
strike up a chance acquaintance with any and everyone! And you must not
think that we permit anyone to share our quarters, that will not tell us
who his ancestors were."
When Akka, the leader-goose, talked in this way, the boy stepped briskly
forward. It had distressed him that the goosey-gander, who had spoken up
so glibly for himself, should give such evasive answers when it
concerned him. "I don't care to make a secret of who I am," said he. "My
name is Nils Holgersson. I'm a farmer's son, and, until to-day, I have
been a human being; but this morning--" He got no further. As soon as he
had said that he was human the leader-goose staggered three steps
backward, and the rest of them even farther back. They all extended
their necks and hissed angrily at him.
"I have suspected this ever since I first saw you here on these shores,"
said Akka; "and now you can clear out of here at once. We tolerate no
human beings among us."
"It isn't possible," said the goosey-gander, meditatively, "that you
wild geese can be afraid of anyone who is so tiny! By to-morrow, of
course, he'll turn back home. You can surely let him stay with us
overnight. None of us can afford to let such a poor little creature
wander off by himself in the night--among weasels and foxes!"
The wild goose came nearer. But it was evident that it was hard for her
to master her fear. "I have been taught to fear everything in human
shape--be it big or little," said she. "But if you will answer for this
one, and swear that he will not harm us, he can stay with us to-night.
But I don't believe our night quarters are suitable either for him or
you, for we intend to roost on the broken ice out here."
She thought, of course, that the goosey-gander would be doubtful when
he heard this, but he never let on. "She is pretty wise who knows how to
choose such a safe bed," said he.
"You will be answerable for his return to his own to-morrow."
"Then I, too, will have to leave you," said the goosey-gander. "I have
sworn that I would not forsake him."
"You are free to fly whither you will," said the leader-goose.
With this, she raised her wings and flew out over the ice and one after
another the wild geese followed her.
The boy was very sad to think that his trip to Lapland would not come
off, and, in the bargain, he was afraid of the chilly night quarters.
"It will be worse and worse," said he. "In the first place, we'll freeze
to death on the ice."
But the gander was in a good humour. "There's no danger," said he. "Only
make haste, I beg of you, and gather together as much grass and litter
as you can well carry."
When the boy had his arms full of dried grass, the goosey-gander grabbed
him by the shirt-band, lifted him, and flew out on the ice, where the
wild geese were already fast asleep, with their bills tucked under their
wings.
"Now spread out the grass on the ice, so there'll be something to stand
on, to keep me from freezing fast. You help me and I'll help you," said
the goosey-gander.
This the boy did. And when he had finished, the goosey-gander picked
him up, once again, by the shirt-band, and tucked him under his wing. "I
think you'll lie snug and warm there," said the goosey-gander as he
covered him with his wing.
The boy was so imbedded in down that he couldn't answer, and he was nice
and comfy. Oh, but he was tired!--And in less than two winks he was fast
asleep.