_Saturday, June eighteenth_.
The boy had been reminded of the old Laplander's story because he
himself was now travelling over the country of which he had spoken. The
eagle told him that the expanse of coast which spread beneath them was
Westbottom, and that the blue ridges far to the west were in Lapland.
Only to be once more seated comfortably on Gorgo's back, after all that
he had suffered during the forest fire, was a pleasure. Besides, they
were having a fine trip. The flight was so easy that at times it seemed
as if they were standing still in the air. The eagle beat and beat his
wings, without appearing to move from the spot; on the other hand,
everything under them seemed in motion. The whole earth and all things
on it moved slowly southward. The forests, the fields, the fences, the
rivers, the cities, the islands, the sawmills--all were on the march.
The boy wondered whither they were bound. Had they grown tired of
standing so far north, and wished to move toward the south?
Amid all the objects in motion there was only one that stood still: that
was a railway train. It stood directly under them, for it was with the
train as with Gorgo--it could not move from the spot. The locomotive
sent forth smoke and sparks. The clatter of the wheels could be heard
all the way up to the boy, but the train did not seem to move. The
forests rushed by; the flag station rushed by; fences and telegraph
poles rushed by; but the train stood still. A broad river with a long
bridge came toward it, but the river and the bridge glided along under
the train with perfect ease. Finally a railway station appeared. The
station master stood on the platform with his red flag, and moved slowly
toward the train.
When he waved his little flag, the locomotive belched even darker smoke
curls than before, and whistled mournfully because it had to stand
still. All of a sudden it began to move toward the south, like
everything else.
The boy saw all the coach doors open and the passengers step out while
both cars and people were moving southward.
He glanced away from the earth and tried to look straight ahead. Staring
at the queer railway train had made him dizzy; but after he had gazed
for a moment at a little white cloud, he was tired of that and looked
down again--thinking all the while that the eagle and himself were quite
still and that everything else was travelling on south. Fancy! Suppose
the grain field just then running along under him--which must have been
newly sown for he had seen a green blade on it--were to travel all the
way down to Skåne where the rye was in full bloom at this season!
Up here the pine forests were different: the trees were bare, the
branches short and the needles were almost black. Many trees were bald
at the top and looked sickly. If a forest like that were to journey down
to Kolmården and see a real forest, how inferior it would feel!
The gardens which he now saw had some pretty bushes, but no fruit trees
or lindens or chestnut trees--only mountain ash and birch. There were
some vegetable beds, but they were not as yet hoed or planted.
"If such an apology for a garden were to come trailing into Sörmland,
the province of gardens, wouldn't it think itself a poor wilderness by
comparison?"
Imagine an immense plain like the one now gliding beneath him, coming
under the very eyes of the poor Småland peasants! They would hurry away
from their meagre garden plots and stony fields, to begin plowing and
sowing.
There was one thing, however, of which this Northland had more than
other lands, and that was light. Night must have set in, for the cranes
stood sleeping on the morass; but it was as light as day. The sun had
not travelled southward, like every other thing. Instead, it had gone so
far north that it shone in the boy's face. To all appearance, it had no
notion of setting that night.
If this light and this sun were only shining on West Vemmenhög! It would
suit the boy's father and mother to a dot to have a working day that
lasted twenty-four hours.
_Sunday, June nineteenth_.
The boy raised his head and looked around, perfectly bewildered. It was
mighty queer! Here he lay sleeping in some place where he had not been
before. No, he had never seen this glen nor the mountains round about;
and never had he noticed such puny and shrunken birches as those under
which he now lay.
Where was the eagle? The boy could see no sign of him. Gorgo must have
deserted him. Well, here was another adventure!
The boy lay down again, closed his eyes, and tried to recall the
circumstances under which he had dropped to sleep.
He remembered that as long as he was travelling over Westbottom he had
fancied that the eagle and he were at a standstill in the air, and that
the land under them was moving southward. As the eagle turned northwest,
the wind had come from that side, and again he had felt a current of
air, so that the land below had stopped moving and he had noticed that
the eagle was bearing him onward with terrific speed.
"Now we are flying into Lapland," Gorgo had said, and the boy had bent
forward, so that he might see the country of which he had heard so much.
But he had felt rather disappointed at not seeing anything but great
tracts of forest land and wide marshes. Forest followed marsh and marsh
followed forest. The monotony of the whole finally made him so sleepy
that he had nearly dropped to the ground.
He said to the eagle that he could not stay on his back another minute,
but must sleep awhile. Gorgo had promptly swooped to the ground, where
the boy had dropped down on a moss tuft. Then Gorgo put a talon around
him and soared into the air with him again.
"Go to sleep, Thumbietot!" he cried. "The sunshine keeps me awake and I
want to continue the journey."
Although the boy hung in this uncomfortable position, he actually dozed
and dreamed.
He dreamed that he was on a broad road in southern Sweden, hurrying
along as fast as his little legs could carry him. He was not alone, many
wayfarers were tramping in the same direction. Close beside him marched
grain-filled rye blades, blossoming corn flowers, and yellow daisies.
Heavily laden apple trees went puffing along, followed by vine-covered
bean stalks, big clusters of white daisies, and masses of berry bushes.
Tall beeches and oaks and lindens strolled leisurely in the middle of
the road, their branches swaying, and they stepped aside for none.
Between the boy's tiny feet darted the little flowers--wild strawberry
blossoms, white anemones, clover, and forget-me-nots. At first he
thought that only the vegetable family was on the march, but presently
he saw that animals and people accompanied them. The insects were
buzzing around advancing bushes, the fishes were swimming in moving
ditches, the birds were singing in strolling trees. Both tame and wild
beasts were racing, and amongst all this people moved along--some with
spades and scythes, others with axes, and others, again, with fishing
nets.
The procession marched with gladness and gayety, and he did not wonder
at that when he saw who was leading it. It was nothing less than the Sun
itself that rolled on like a great shining head with hair of many-hued
rays and a countenance beaming with merriment and kindliness!
"Forward, march!" it kept calling out. "None need feel anxious whilst I
am here. Forward, march!"
"I wonder where the Sun wants to take us to?" remarked the boy. A rye
blade that walked beside him heard him, and immediately answered:
"He wants to take us up to Lapland to fight the Ice Witch."
Presently the boy noticed that some of the travellers hesitated, slowed
up, and finally stood quite still. He saw that the tall beech tree
stopped, and that the roebuck and the wheat blade tarried by the
wayside, likewise the blackberry bush, the little yellow buttercup, the
chestnut tree, and the grouse.
He glanced about him and tried to reason out why so many stopped. Then
he discovered that they were no longer in southern Sweden. The march had
been so rapid that they were already in Svealand.
Up there the oak began to move more cautiously. It paused awhile to
consider, took a few faltering steps, then came to a standstill.
"Why doesn't the oak come along?" asked the boy.
"It's afraid of the Ice Witch," said a fair young birch that tripped
along so boldly and cheerfully that it was a joy to watch it. The crowd
hurried on as before. In a short time they were in Norrland, and now it
mattered not how much the Sun cried and coaxed--the apple tree stopped,
the cherry tree stopped, the rye blade stopped!
The boy turned to them and asked:
"Why don't you come along? Why do you desert the Sun?"
"We dare not! We're afraid of the Ice Witch, who lives in Lapland," they
answered.
The boy comprehended that they were far north, as the procession grew
thinner and thinner. The rye blade, the barley, the wild strawberry, the
blueberry bush, the pea stalk, the currant bush had come along as far as
this. The elk and the domestic cow had been walking side by side, but
now they stopped. The Sun no doubt would have been almost deserted if
new followers had not happened along. Osier bushes and a lot of brushy
vegetation joined the procession. Laps and reindeer, mountain owl and
mountain fox and willow grouse followed.
Then the boy heard something coming toward them. He saw great rivers and
creeks sweeping along with terrible force.
"Why are they in such a hurry?" he asked.
"They are running away from the Ice Witch, who lives up in the
mountains."
All of a sudden the boy saw before him a high, dark, turreted wall.
Instantly the Sun turned its beaming face toward this wall and flooded
it with light. Then it became apparent that it was no wall, but the most
glorious mountains, which loomed up--one behind another. Their peaks
were rose-coloured in the sunlight, their slopes azure and gold-tinted.
"Onward, onward!" urged the Sun as it climbed the steep cliffs. "There's
no danger so long as I am with you."
But half way up, the bold young birch deserted--also the sturdy pine and
the persistent spruce, and there, too, the Laplander, and the willow
brush deserted. At last, when the Sun reached the top, there was no one
but the little tot, Nils Holgersson, who had followed it.
The Sun rolled into a cave, where the walls were bedecked with ice, and
Nils Holgersson wanted to follow, but farther than the opening of the
cave he dared not venture, for in there he saw something dreadful.
Far back in the cave sat an old witch with an ice body, hair of icicles,
and a mantle of snow!
At her feet lay three black wolves, who rose and opened their jaws when
the Sun approached. From the mouth of one came a piercing cold, from the
second a blustering north wind, and from the third came impenetrable
darkness.
"That must be the Ice Witch and her tribe," thought the boy.
He understood that now was the time for him to flee, but he was so
curious to see the outcome of the meeting between the Sun and the Ice
Witch that he tarried.
The Ice Witch did not move--only turned her hideous face toward the Sun.
This continued for a short time. It appeared to the boy that the witch
was beginning to sigh and tremble. Her snow mantle fell, and the three
ferocious wolves howled less savagely.
Suddenly the Sun cried:
"Now my time is up!" and rolled out of the cave.
Then the Ice Witch let loose her three wolves. Instantly the North Wind,
Cold, and Darkness rushed from the cave and began to chase the Sun.
"Drive him out! Drive him back!" shrieked the Ice Witch. "Chase him so
far that he can never come back! Teach him that Lapland is MINE!"
But Nils Holgersson felt so unhappy when he saw that the Sun was to be
driven from Lapland that he awakened with a cry. When he recovered his
senses, he found himself at the bottom of a ravine.
But where was Gorgo? How was he to find out where he himself was?
He arose and looked all around him. Then he happened to glance upward
and saw a peculiar structure of pine twigs and branches that stood on a
cliff-ledge.
"That must be one of those eagle nests that Gorgo--" But this was as far
as he got. He tore off his cap, waved it in the air, and cheered.
Now he understood where Gorgo had brought him. This was the very glen
where the wild geese lived in summer, and just above it was the eagles'
cliff.