_Wednesday, November ninth_.
The boy arose before dawn and wandered down to the coast. He was
standing alone on the strand east of Smyge fishing hamlet before
sunrise. He had already been in the pen with Morten Goosey-Gander to try
to rouse him, but the big white gander had no desire to leave home. He
did not say a word, but only stuck his bill under his wing and went to
sleep again.
To all appearances the weather promised to be almost as perfect as it
had been that spring day when the wild geese came to Skåne. There was
hardly a ripple on the water; the air was still and the boy thought of
the good passage the geese would have. He himself was as yet in a kind
of daze--sometimes thinking he was an elf, sometimes a human being. When
he saw a stone hedge alongside the road, he was afraid to go farther
until he had made sure that no wild animal or vulture lurked behind it.
Very soon he laughed to himself and rejoiced because he was big and
strong and did not have to be afraid of anything.
When he reached the coast he stationed himself, big as he was, at the
very edge of the strand, so that the wild geese could see him.
It was a busy day for the birds of passage. Bird calls sounded on the
air continuously. The boy smiled as he thought that no one but himself
understood what the birds were saying to one another. Presently wild
geese came flying; one big flock following another.
"Just so it's not my geese that are going away without bidding me
farewell," he thought. He wanted so much to tell them how everything had
turned out, and to show them that he was no longer an elf but a human
being.
There came a flock that flew faster and cackled louder than the others,
and something told him that this must be _the_ flock, but now he was not
quite so sure about it as he would have been the day before.
The flock slackened its flight and circled up and down along the coast.
The boy knew it was the right one, but he could not understand why the
geese did not come straight down to him. They could not avoid seeing him
where he stood. He tried to give a call that would bring them down to
him, but only think! his tongue would not obey him. He could not make
the right sound! He heard Akka's calls, but did not understand what she
said.
"What can this mean? Have the wild geese changed their language?" he
wondered.
He waved his cap to them and ran along the shore calling.
"Here am I, where are you?"
But this seemed only to frighten the geese. They rose and flew farther
out to sea. At last he understood. They did not know that he was human,
had not recognized him. He could not call them to him because human
beings can not speak the language of birds. He could not speak their
language, nor could he understand it.
Although the boy was very glad to be released from the enchantment,
still he thought it hard that because of this he should be parted from
his old comrades.
He sat down on the sands and buried his face in his hands. What was the
use of his gazing after them any more?
Presently he heard the rustle of wings. Old mother Akka had found it
hard to fly away from Thumbietot, and turned back, and now that the boy
sat quite still she ventured to fly nearer to him. Suddenly something
must have told her who he was, for she lit close beside him.
Nils gave a cry of joy and took old Akka in his arms. The other wild
geese crowded round him and stroked him with their bills. They cackled
and chattered and wished him all kinds of good luck, and he, too, talked
to them and thanked them for the wonderful journey which he had been
privileged to make in their company.
All at once the wild geese became strangely quiet and withdrew from him,
as if to say:
"Alas! he is a man. He does not understand us: we do not understand
him!"
Then the boy rose and went over to Akka; he stroked her and patted her.
He did the same to Yksi and Kaksi, Kolme and Neljä, Viisi and Kuusi--the
old birds who had been his companions from the very start.
After that he walked farther up the strand. He knew perfectly well that
the sorrows of the birds do not last long, and he wanted to part with
them while they were still sad at losing him.
As he crossed the shore meadows he turned and watched the many flocks of
birds that were flying over the sea. All were shrieking their coaxing
calls--only one goose flock flew silently on as long as he could follow
it with his eyes. The wedge was perfect, the speed good, and the wing
strokes strong and certain.
The boy felt such a yearning for his departing comrades that he almost
wished he were Thumbietot again and could travel over land and sea with
a flock of wild geese.