_Monday, March twenty-first_.
Everything remained unchanged in the forest--about as long as it takes a
goose to eat her breakfast. But just as the morning was verging on
forenoon, a goose came flying, all by herself, under the thick
tree-canopy. She groped her way hesitatingly, between the stems and
branches, and flew very slowly. As soon as Smirre Fox saw her, he left
his place under the beech tree, and sneaked up toward her. The wild
goose didn't avoid the fox, but flew very close to him. Smirre made a
high jump for her but he missed her; and the goose went on her way down
to the lake.
It was not long before another goose came flying. She took the same
route as the first one; and flew still lower and slower. She, too, flew
close to Smirre Fox, and he made such a high spring for her, that his
ears brushed her feet. But she, too, got away from him unhurt, and went
her way toward the lake, silent as a shadow.
A little while passed and then there came another wild goose. She flew
still slower and lower; and it seemed even more difficult for her to
find her way between the beech-branches. Smirre made a powerful spring!
He was within a hair's breadth of catching her; but that goose also
managed to save herself.
Just after she had disappeared, came a fourth. She flew so slowly, and
so badly, that Smirre Fox thought he could catch her without much
effort, but he was afraid of failure now, and concluded to let her fly
past--unmolested. She took the same direction the others had taken; and
just as she was come right above Smirre, she sank down so far that he
was tempted to jump for her. He jumped so high that he touched her with
his tail. But she flung herself quickly to one side and saved her life.
Before Smirre got through panting, three more geese came flying in a
row. They flew just like the rest, and Smirre made high springs for them
all, but he did not succeed in catching any one of them.
After that came five geese; but these flew better than the others. And
although it seemed as if they wanted to lure Smirre to jump, he
withstood the temptation. After quite a long time came one single goose.
It was the thirteenth. This one was so old that she was gray all over,
without a dark speck anywhere on her body. She didn't appear to use one
wing very well, but flew so wretchedly and crookedly, that she almost
touched the ground. Smirre not only made a high leap for her, but he
pursued her, running and jumping all the way down to the lake. But not
even this time did he get anything for his trouble.
When the fourteenth goose came along, it looked very pretty because it
was white. And as its great wings swayed, it glistened like a light, in
the dark forest. When Smirre Fox saw this one, he mustered all his
resources and jumped half-way up to the tree-canopy. But the white one
flew by unhurt like the rest.
Now it was quiet for a moment under the beeches. It looked as if the
whole wild-goose-flock had travelled past.
Suddenly Smirre remembered his prisoner and raised his eyes toward the
young beech-tree. And just as he might have expected--the boy had
disappeared.
But Smirre didn't have much time to think about him; for now the first
goose came back again from the lake and flew slowly under the canopy. In
spite of all his ill luck, Smirre was glad that she came back, and
darted after her with a high leap. But he had been in too much of a
hurry, and hadn't taken the time to calculate the distance, and he
landed at one side of the goose. Then there came still another goose;
then a third; a fourth; a fifth; and so on, until the angle closed in
with the old ice-gray one, and the big white one. They all flew low and
slow. Just as they swayed in the vicinity of Smirre Fox, they sank
down--kind of inviting-like--for him to take them. Smirre ran after them
and made leaps a couple of fathoms high--but he couldn't manage to get
hold of a single one of them.
It was the most awful day that Smirre Fox had ever experienced. The wild
geese kept on travelling over his head. They came and went--came and
went. Great splendid geese who had eaten themselves fat on the German
heaths and grain fields, swayed all day through the woods, and so close
to him that he touched them many times; yet he was not permitted to
appease his hunger with a single one of them.
The winter was hardly gone yet, and Smirre recalled nights and days when
he had been forced to tramp around in idleness, with not so much as a
hare to hunt, when the rats hid themselves under the frozen earth; and
when the chickens were all shut up. But all the winter's hunger had not
been as hard to endure as this day's miscalculations.
Smirre was no young fox. He had had the dogs after him many a time, and
had heard the bullets whizz around his ears. He had lain in hiding, down
in the lair, while the dachshunds crept into the crevices and all but
found him. But all the anguish that Smirre Fox had been forced to suffer
under this hot chase, was not to be compared with what he suffered every
time that he missed one of the wild geese.
In the morning, when the play began, Smirre Fox had looked so stunning
that the geese were amazed when they saw him. Smirre loved display. His
coat was a brilliant red; his breast white; his nose black; and his tail
was as bushy as a plume. But when the evening of this day was come,
Smirre's coat hung in loose folds. He was bathed in sweat; his eyes were
without lustre; his tongue hung far out from his gaping jaws; and froth
oozed from his mouth.
In the afternoon Smirre was so exhausted that he grew delirious. He saw
nothing before his eyes but flying geese. He made leaps for sun-spots
which he saw on the ground; and for a poor little butterfly that had
come out of his chrysalis too soon.
The wild geese flew and flew, unceasingly. All day long they continued
to torment Smirre. They were not moved to pity because Smirre was done
up, fevered, and out of his head. They continued without a let-up,
although they understood that he hardly saw them, and that he jumped
after their shadows.
When Smirre Fox sank down on a pile of dry leaves, weak and powerless
and almost ready to give up the ghost, they stopped teasing him.
"Now you know, Mr. Fox, what happens to the one who dares to come near
Akka of Kebnekaise!" they shouted in his ear; and with that they left
him in peace.