_Friday, June seventeenth_.
The boy and the eagle were out bright and early the next morning. Gorgo
hoped that he would get far up into West Bothnia that day. As luck would
have it, he heard the boy remark to himself that in a country like the
one through which they were now travelling it must be impossible for
people to live.
The land which spread below them was Southern Medelpad. When the eagle
heard the boy's remark, he replied:
"Up here they have forests for fields."
The boy thought of the contrast between the light, golden-rye fields
with their delicate blades that spring up in one summer, and the dark
spruce forest with its solid trees which took many years to ripen for
harvest.
"One who has to get his livelihood from such a field must have a deal of
patience!" he observed.
Nothing more was said until they came to a place where the forest had
been cleared, and the ground was covered with stumps and lopped-off
branches. As they flew over this ground, the eagle heard the boy mutter
to himself that it was a mighty ugly and poverty-stricken place.
"This field was cleared last winter," said the eagle.
The boy thought of the harvesters at home, who rode on their reaping
machines on fine summer mornings, and in a short time mowed a large
field. But the forest field was harvested in winter. The lumbermen went
out in the wilderness when the snow was deep, and the cold most severe.
It was tedious work to fell even one tree, and to hew down a forest such
as this they must have been out in the open many weeks.
"They have to be hardy men to mow a field of this kind," he said.
When the eagle had taken two more wing strokes, they sighted a log cabin
at the edge of the clearing. It had no windows and only two loose boards
for a door. The roof had been covered with bark and twigs, but now it
was gaping, and the boy could see that inside the cabin there were only
a few big stones to serve as a fireplace, and two board benches. When
they were above the cabin the eagle suspected that the boy was wondering
who could have lived in such a wretched hut as that.
"The reapers who mowed the forest field lived there," the eagle said.
The boy remembered how the reapers in his home had returned from their
day's work, cheerful and happy, and how the best his mother had in the
larder was always spread for them; while here, after the arduous work of
the day, they must rest on hard benches in a cabin that was worse than
an outhouse. And what they had to eat he could not imagine.
"I wonder if there are any harvest festivals for these labourers?" he
questioned.
A little farther on they saw below them a wretchedly bad road winding
through the forest. It was narrow and zigzag, hilly and stony, and cut
up by brooks in many places. As they flew over it the eagle knew that
the boy was wondering what was carted over a road like that.
"Over this road the harvest was conveyed to the stack," the eagle said.
The boy recalled what fun they had at home when the harvest wagons
drawn by two sturdy horses, carried the grain from the field. The man
who drove sat proudly on top of the load; the horses danced and pricked
up their ears, while the village children, who were allowed to climb
upon the sheaves, sat there laughing and shrieking, half-pleased,
half-frightened. But here the great logs were drawn up and down steep
hills; here the poor horses must be worked to their limit, and the
driver must often be in peril. "I'm afraid there has been very little
cheer along this road," the boy observed.
The eagle flew on with powerful wing strokes, and soon they came to a
river bank covered with logs, chips, and bark. The eagle perceived that
the boy wondered why it looked so littered up down there.
"Here the harvest has been stacked," the eagle told him.
The boy thought of how the grain stacks in his part of the country were
piled up close to the farms, as if they were their greatest ornaments,
while here the harvest was borne to a desolate river strand, and left
there.
"I wonder if any one out in this wilderness counts his stacks, and
compares them with his neighbour's?" he said.
A little later they came to Ljungen, a river which glides through a
broad valley. Immediately everything was so changed that they might well
think they had come to another country. The dark spruce forest had
stopped on the inclines above the valley, and the slopes were clad in
light-stemmed birches and aspens. The valley was so broad that in many
places the river widened into lakes. Along the shores lay a large
flourishing town.
As they soared above the valley the eagle realized that the boy was
wondering if the fields and meadows here could provide a livelihood for
so many people.
"Here live the reapers who mow the forest fields," the eagle said.
The boy was thinking of the lowly cabins and the hedged-in farms down in
Skåne when he exclaimed:
"Why, here the peasants live in real manors. It looks as if it might be
worth one's while to work in the forest!"
The eagle had intended to travel straight north, but when he had flown
out over the river he understood that the boy wondered who handled the
timber after it was stacked on the river bank.
The boy recollected how careful they had been at home never to let a
grain be wasted, while here were great rafts of logs floating down the
river, uncared for. He could not believe that more than half of the logs
ever reached their destination. Many were floating in midstream, and for
them all went smoothly; others moved close to the shore, bumping against
points of land, and some were left behind in the still waters of the
creeks. On the lakes there were so many logs that they covered the
entire surface of the water. These appeared to be lodged for an
indefinite period. At the bridges they stuck; in the falls they were
bunched, then they were pyramided and broken in two; afterward, in the
rapids, they were blocked by the stones and massed into great heaps.
"I wonder how long it takes for the logs to get to the mill?" said the
boy.
The eagle continued his slow flight down River Ljungen. Over many places
he paused in the air on outspread wings, that the boy might see how this
kind of harvest work was done.
Presently they came to a place where the loggers were at work. The eagle
marked that the boy wondered what they were doing.
"They are the ones who take care of all the belated harvest," the eagle
said.
The boy remembered the perfect ease with which his people at home had
driven their grain to the mill. Here the men ran alongside the shores
with long boat-hooks, and with toil and effort urged the logs along.
They waded out in the river and were soaked from top to toe. They jumped
from stone to stone far out into the rapids, and they tramped on the
rolling log heaps as calmly as though they were on flat ground. They
were daring and resolute men.
"As I watch this, I'm reminded of the iron-moulders in the mining
districts, who juggle with fire as if it were perfectly harmless,"
remarked the boy. "These loggers play with water as if they were its
masters. They seem to have subjugated it so that it dare not harm them."
Gradually they neared the mouth of the river, and Bothnia Bay was beyond
them. Gorgo flew no farther straight ahead, but went northward along the
coast. Before they had travelled very far they saw a lumber camp as
large as a small city. While the eagle circled back and forth above it,
he heard the boy remark that this place looked interesting.
"Here you have the great lumber camp called Svartvik," the eagle said.
The boy thought of the mill at home, which stood peacefully embedded in
foliage, and moved its wings very slowly. This mill, where they grind
the forest harvest, stood on the water.
The mill pond was crowded with logs. One by one the helpers seized them
with their cant-hooks, crowded them into the chutes and hurried them
along to the whirling saws. What happened to the logs inside, the boy
could not see, but he heard loud buzzing and roaring, and from the other
end of the house small cars ran out, loaded with white planks. The cars
ran on shining tracks down to the lumber yard, where the planks were
piled in rows, forming streets--like blocks of houses in a city. In one
place they were building new piles; in another they were pulling down
old ones. These were carried aboard two large vessels which lay waiting
for cargo. The place was alive with workmen, and in the woods, back of
the yard, they had their homes.
"They'll soon manage to saw up all the forests in Medelpad the way they
work here," said the boy.
The eagle moved his wings just a little, and carried the boy above
another large camp, very much like the first, with the mill, yard,
wharf, and the homes of the workmen.
"This is called Kukikenborg," the eagle said.
He flapped his wings slowly, flew past two big lumber camps, and
approached a large city. When the eagle heard the boy ask the name of
it, he cried; "This is Sundsvall, the manor of the lumber districts."
The boy remembered the cities of Skåne, which looked so old and gray and
solemn; while here in the bleak North the city of Sundsvall faced a
beautiful bay, and looked young and happy and beaming. There was
something odd about the city when one saw it from above, for in the
middle stood a cluster of tall stone structures which looked so imposing
that their match was hardly to be found in Stockholm. Around the stone
buildings there was a large open space, then came a wreath of frame
houses which looked pretty and cosy in their little gardens; but they
seemed to be conscious of the fact that they were very much poorer than
the stone houses, and dared not venture into their neighbourhood.
"This must be both a wealthy and powerful city," remarked the boy. "Can
it be possible that the poor forest soil is the source of all this?"
The eagle flapped his wings again, and went over to Aln Island, which
lies opposite Sundsvall. The boy was greatly surprised to see all the
sawmills that decked the shores. On Aln Island they stood, one next
another, and on the mainland opposite were mill upon mill, lumber yard
upon lumber yard. He counted forty, at least, but believed there were
many more.
"How wonderful it all looks from up here!" he marvelled. "So much life
and activity I have not seen in any place save this on the whole trip.
It is a great country that we have! Wherever I go, there is always
something new for people to live upon."