Nils Holgerssons underbara resa. English
Page 15
the gray rats caught the scent of thegrain, which was stored in great bins on the floor. But it was not asyet time for them to begin to enjoy their conquest. They searched first,with the utmost caution, through the sombre, empty rooms. They ran up inthe fireplace, which stood on the floor in the old castle kitchen, andthey almost tumbled into the well, in the inner room. Not one of thenarrow peep-holes did they leave uninspected, but they found no blackrats. When this floor was wholly in their possession, they began, withthe same caution, to acquire the next. Then they had to venture on abold and dangerous climb through the walls, while, with breathlessanxiety, they awaited an assault from the enemy. And although they weretempted by the most delicious odour from the grain bins, they forcedthemselves most systematically to inspect the old-time warriors'pillar-propped kitchen; their stone table, and fireplace; the deepwindow-niches, and the hole in the floor--which in olden time had beenopened to pour down boiling pitch on the intruding enemy.
All this time the black rats were invisible. The gray ones groped theirway to the third story, and into the lord of the castle's great banquethall--which stood there cold and empty, like all the other rooms in theold house. They even groped their way to the upper story, which had butone big, barren room. The only place they did not think of exploring wasthe big stork-nest on the roof--where, just at this time, the lady owlawakened Akka, and informed her that Flammea, the steeple owl, hadgranted her request, and had sent her the thing she wished for.
Since the gray rats had so conscientiously inspected the entire castle,they felt at ease. They took it for granted that the black rats hadflown, and didn't intend to offer any resistance; and, with lighthearts, they ran up into the grain bins.
But the gray rats had hardly swallowed the first wheat-grains, beforethe sound of a little shrill pipe was heard from the yard. The gray ratsraised their heads, listened anxiously, ran a few steps as if theyintended to leave the bin, then they turned back and began to eat oncemore.
Again the pipe sounded a sharp and piercing note--and now somethingwonderful happened. One rat, two rats--yes, a whole lot of rats left thegrain, jumped from the bins and hurried down cellar by the shortest cut,to get out of the house. Still there were many gray rats left. Thesethought of all the toil and trouble it had cost them to win Glimmingecastle, and they did not want to leave it. But again they caught thetones from the pipe, and had to follow them. With wild excitement theyrushed up from the bins, slid down through the narrow holes in thewalls, and tumbled over each other in their eagerness to get out.
In the middle of the courtyard stood a tiny creature, who blew upon apipe. All round him he had a whole circle of rats who listened to him,astonished and fascinated; and every moment brought more. Once he tookthe pipe from his lips--only for a second--put his thumb to his nose andwiggled his fingers at the gray rats; and then it looked as if theywanted to throw themselves on him and bite him to death; but as soon ashe blew on his pipe they were in his power.
When the tiny creature had played all the gray rats out of Glimmingecastle, he began to wander slowly from the courtyard out on the highway;and all the gray rats followed him, because the tones from that pipesounded so sweet to their ears that they could not resist them.
The tiny creature walked before them and charmed them along with him,on the road to Vallby. He led them into all sorts of crooks and turnsand bends--on through hedges and down into ditches--and wherever he wentthey had to follow. He blew continuously on his pipe, which appeared tobe made from an animal's horn, although the horn was so small that, inour days, there were no animals from whose foreheads it could have beenbroken. No one knew, either, who had made it. Flammea, the steeple-owl,had found it in a niche, in Lund cathedral. She had shown it to Bataki,the raven; and they had both figured out that this was the kind of hornthat was used in former times by those who wished to gain power overrats and mice. But the raven was Akka's friend; and it was from him shehad learned that Flammea owned a treasure like this. And it was truethat the rats could not resist the pipe. The boy walked before them andplayed as long as the starlight lasted--and all the while they followedhim. He played at daybreak; he played at sunrise; and the whole time theentire procession of gray rats followed him, and were enticed fartherand farther away from the big grain loft at Glimminge castle.
THE GREAT CRANE DANCE ON KULLABERG
_Tuesday, March twenty-ninth_.
Although there are many magnificent buildings in Skane, it must beacknowledged that there's not one among them that has such pretty wallsas old Kullaberg.
Kullaberg is low and rather long. It is not by any means a big orimposing mountain. On its broad summit you'll find woods and grainfields, and one and another heather-heath. Here and there, roundheather-knolls and barren cliffs rise up. It is not especially pretty upthere. It looks a good deal like all the other upland places in Skane.
He who walks along the path which runs across the middle of themountain, can't help feeling a little disappointed. Then he happens,perhaps, to turn away from the path, and wanders off toward themountain's sides and looks down over the bluffs; and then, all at once,he will discover so much that is worth seeing, he hardly knows how he'llfind time to take in the whole of it. For it happens that Kullabergdoes not stand on the land, with plains and valleys around it, likeother mountains; but it has plunged into the sea, as far out as it couldget. Not even the tiniest strip of land lies below the mountain toprotect it against the breakers; but these reach all the way up to themountain walls, and can polish and mould them to suit themselves. Thisis why the walls stand there as richly ornamented as the sea and itshelpmeet, the wind, have been able to effect. You'll find steep ravinesthat are deeply chiselled in the mountain's sides; and black crags thathave become smooth and shiny under the constant lashing of the winds.There are solitary rock-columns that spring right up out of the water,and dark grottoes with narrow entrances. There are barren, perpendicularprecipices, and soft, leaf-clad inclines. There are small points, andsmall inlets, and small rolling stones that are rattlingly washed up anddown with every dashing breaker. There are majestic cliff-arches thatproject over the water. There are sharp stones that are constantlysprayed by a white foam; and others that mirror themselves inunchangeable dark-green still water. There are giant troll-cavernsshaped in the rock, and great crevices that lure the wanderer to ventureinto the mountain's depths--all the way to Kullman's Hollow.
And over and around all these cliffs and rocks crawl entangled tendrilsand weeds. Trees grow there also, but the wind's power is so great thattrees have to transform themselves into clinging vines, that they mayget a firm hold on the steep precipices. The oaks creep along on theground, while their foliage hangs over them like a low ceiling; andlong-limbed beeches stand in the ravines like great leaf-tents.
These remarkable mountain walls, with the blue sea beneath them, and theclear penetrating air above them, is what makes Kullaberg so dear to thepeople that great crowds of them haunt the place every day as long asthe summer lasts. But it is more difficult to tell what it is that makesit so attractive to animals, that every year they gather there for a bigplay-meeting. This is a custom that has been observed since timeimmemorial; and one should have been there when the first sea-wave wasdashed into foam against the shore, to be able to explain just whyKullaberg was chosen as a rendezvous, in preference to all other places.
When the meeting is to take place, the stags and roebucks and hares andfoxes and all the other four-footers make the journey to Kullaberg thenight before, so as not to be observed by the human beings. Just beforesunrise they all march up to the playground, which is a heather-heath onthe left side of the road, and not very far from the mountain's mostextreme point. The playground is inclosed on all sides by round knolls,which conceal it from any and all who do not happen to come right uponit. And in the month of March it is not at all likely that anypedestrians will stray off up there. All the strangers who usuallystroll around on the rocks, and clamber up the mountain's sides the fallstorms have driven away these many m
onths past. And the lighthousekeeper out there on the point; the old fru on the mountain farm, and themountain peasant and his house-folk go their accustomed ways, and do notrun about on the desolate heather-fields.
When the four-footers have arrived on the playground, they take theirplaces on the round knolls. Each animal family keeps to itself, althoughit is understood that, on a day like this, universal peace reigns, andno one need fear attack. On this day a little hare might wander over tothe foxes' hill, without losing as much as one of his long ears. Butstill the animals arrange themselves into separate groups. This is anold custom.
After they have all taken their places, they begin to look around forthe birds. It is always beautiful weather on this day. The cranes aregood weather prophets, and would not call the animals together if theyexpected rain. Although the air is clear, and nothing obstructs thevision, the four-footers see no birds. This is