more eagerness and haste than the oxen; but the geese couldn't keepfrom teasing these either. "Ar'n't you ashamed to be doing ox-duty?"cried the wild geese. "Ar'n't you ashamed yourselves to be doing lazyman's duty?" the horses neighed back at them.
But while horses and oxen were at work in the fields, the stable ramwalked about in the barnyard. He was newly clipped and touchy, knockedover the small boys, chased the shepherd dog into his kennel, and thenstrutted about as though he alone were lord of the whole place. "Rammie,rammie, what have you done with your wool?" asked the wild geese, whorode by up in the air. "That I have sent to Drag's woollen mills inNorrkoeping," replied the ram with a long, drawn-out bleat. "Rammie,rammie, what have you done with your horns?" asked the geese. But anyhorns the rammie had never possessed, to his sorrow, and one couldn'toffer him a greater insult than to ask after them. He ran around a longtime, and butted at the air, so furious was he.
On the country road came a man who drove a flock of Skane pigs that werenot more than a few weeks old, and were going to be sold up country.They trotted along bravely, as little as they were, and kept closetogether--as if they sought protection. "Nuff, nuff, nuff, we came awaytoo soon from father and mother. Nuff, nuff, nuff, how will it go withus poor children?" said the little pigs. The wild geese didn't have theheart to tease such poor little creatures. "It will be better for youthan you can ever believe," they cried as they flew past them.
The wild geese were never so merry as when they flew over a flatcountry. Then they did not hurry themselves, but flew from farm to farm,and joked with the tame animals.
As the boy rode over the plain, he happened to think of a legend whichhe had heard a long time ago. He didn't remember it exactly, but it wassomething about a petticoat--half of which was made of gold-wovenvelvet, and half of gray homespun cloth. But the one who owned thepetticoat adorned the homespun cloth with such a lot of pearls andprecious stones that it looked richer and more gorgeous than thegold-cloth.
He remembered this about the homespun cloth, as he looked down onOestergoetland, because it was made up of a large plain, which lay wedgedin between two mountainous forest-tracts--one to the north, the other tothe south. The two forest-heights lay there, a lovely blue, andshimmered in the morning light, as if they were decked with goldenveils; and the plain, which simply spread out one winter-naked fieldafter another, was, in and of itself, prettier to look upon than grayhomespun.
But the people must have been contented on the plain, because it wasgenerous and kind, and they had tried to decorate it in the best waypossible. High up--where the boy rode by--he thought that cities andfarms, churches and factories, castles and railway stations werescattered over it, like large and small trinkets. It shone on the roofs,and the window-panes glittered like jewels. Yellow country roads,shining railway-tracks and blue canals ran along between the districtslike embroidered loops. Linkoeping lay around its cathedral like apearl-setting around a precious stone; and the gardens in the countrywere like little brooches and buttons. There was not much regulation inthe pattern, but it was a display of grandeur which one could never tireof looking at.
The geese had left Oeberg district, and travelled toward the east alongGoeta Canal. This was also getting itself ready for the summer. Workmenlaid canal-banks, and tarred the huge lock-gates. They were workingeverywhere to receive spring fittingly, even in the cities. There,masons and painters stood on scaffoldings and made fine the exteriors ofthe houses while maids were cleaning the windows. Down at the harbour,sailboats and steamers were being washed and dressed up.
At Norrkoeping the wild geese left the plain, and flew up towardKolmarden. For a time they had followed an old, hilly country road,which wound around cliffs, and ran forward under wildmountain-walls--when the boy suddenly let out a shriek. He had beensitting and swinging his foot back and forth, and one of his woodenshoes had slipped off.
"Goosey-gander, goosey-gander, I have dropped my shoe!" cried the boy.The goosey-gander turned about and sank toward the ground; then the boysaw that two children, who were walking along the road, had picked uphis shoe. "Goosey-gander, goosey-gander," screamed the boy excitedly,"fly upward again! It is too late. I cannot get my shoe back again."
Down on the road stood Osa, the goose-girl, and her brother, littleMats, looking at a tiny wooden shoe that had fallen from the skies.
Osa, the goose-girl, stood silent a long while, and pondered over thefind. At last she said, slowly and thoughtfully: "Do you remember,little Mats, that when we went past Oevid Cloister, we heard that thefolks in a farmyard had seen an elf who was dressed in leather breeches,and had wooden shoes on his feet, like any other working man? And do yourecollect when we came to Vittskoevle, a girl told us that she had seen aGoa-Nisse with wooden shoes, who flew away on the back of a goose? Andwhen we ourselves came home to our cabin, little Mats, we saw a goblinwho was dressed in the same way, and who also straddled the back of agoose--and flew away. Maybe it was the same one who rode along on hisgoose up here in the air and dropped his wooden shoe."
"Yes, it must have been," said little Mats.
They turned the wooden shoe about and examined it carefully--for itisn't every day that one happens across a Goa-Nisse's wooden shoe on thehighway.
"Wait, wait, little Mats!" said Osa, the goose-girl. "There is somethingwritten on one side of it."
"Why, so there is! but they are such tiny letters."
"Let me see! It says--it says: 'Nils Holgersson from W. Vemminghoeg.'That's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard!" said little Mats.
THE STORY OF KARR AND GRAYSKIN
KARR
About twelve years before Nils Holgersson started on his travels withthe wild geese there was a manufacturer at Kolmarden who wanted to berid of one of his dogs. He sent for his game-keeper and said to him thatit was impossible to keep the dog because he could not be broken of thehabit of chasing all the sheep and fowl he set eyes on, and he asked theman to take the dog into the forest and shoot him.
The game-keeper slipped the leash on the dog to lead him to a spot inthe forest where all the superannuated dogs from the manor were shot andburied. He was not a cruel man, but he was very glad to shoot that dog,for he knew that sheep and chickens were not the only creatures hehunted. Times without number he had gone into the forest and helpedhimself to a hare or a grouse-chick.
The dog was a little black-and-tan setter. His name was Karr, and he wasso wise he understood all that was said.
As the game-keeper was leading him through the thickets, Karr knew onlytoo well what was in store for him. But this no one could have guessedby his behaviour, for he neither hung his head nor dragged his tail, butseemed as unconcerned as ever.
It was because they were in the forest that the dog was so careful notto appear the least bit anxious.
There were great stretches of woodland on every side of the factory, andthis forest was famed both among animals and human beings because formany, many years the owners had been so careful of it that they hadbegrudged themselves even the trees needed for firewood. Nor had theyhad the heart to thin or train them. The trees had been allowed to growas they pleased. Naturally a forest thus protected was a beloved refugefor wild animals, which were to be found there in great numbers. Amongthemselves they called it Liberty Forest, and regarded it as the bestretreat in the whole country.
As the dog was being led through the woods he thought of what a bugaboohe had been to all the small animals and birds that lived there.
"Now, Karr, wouldn't they be happy in their lairs if they only knew whatwas awaiting you?" he thought, but at the same time he wagged his tailand barked cheerfully, so that no one should think that he was worriedor depressed.
"What fun would there have been in living had I not huntedoccasionally?" he reasoned. "Let him who will, regret; it's not going tobe Karr!"
But the instant the dog said this, a singular change came over him. Hestretched his neck as though he had a mind to howl. He no longer trottedalongside the game-keeper, but walked behin
d him. It was plain that hehad begun to think of something unpleasant.
It was early summer; the elk cows had just given birth to their young,and, the night before, the dog had succeeded in parting from its motheran elk calf not more than five days old, and had driven it down into themarsh. There he had chased it back and forth over the knolls--not withthe idea of capturing it, but merely for the sport of seeing how hecould scare it. The elk cow knew that the marsh was bottomless so soonafter the thaw, and that it could not as yet hold up so large an animalas herself, so she stood on the solid earth for the longest time,watching! But when Karr kept chasing the calf farther and farther away,she rushed out on the marsh, drove the dog off, took the calf with her,and turned back toward firm land. Elk are more skilled than otheranimals in traversing dangerous, marshy
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