 Section 1 of The Wonderful Adventures of Nils This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Lars Rolander The Wonderful Adventures of Nils by Selma Lagerlöf Translated from the Swedish by Velma Svonsson-Howard The Boy The Elf Sunday, March 20th Once there was a boy. He was, let us say, something like 14 years old, long and loose-jointed and tau-headed. He wasn't good for much that boy. His chief delight was to eat and sleep, and after that he liked best to make mischief. It was a Sunday morning, and the boy's parents were getting ready to go to the church. The boy sat on the edge of the table in his shirt sleeves and thought how lucky it was that both father and mother were going away and the coast would be clear for a couple of hours. Good! Now I can take down Pop-Scan and fire off a shot without anybody's meddling interference, he said to himself. But it was almost as if father should have guessed the boy's thoughts, for just as he was on the threshold ready to start, he stopped short and turned toward the boy. Since you won't come to church with mother in me, he said, the least you can do is to read the service at home. Will you promise to do so? Yes, said the boy, that I can do easy enough. And he thought, of course, that he wouldn't read any more than he felt like reading. The boy thought that never had he seen his mother so persistent, in a second she was over by the shelf near the fireplace and took down Luther's commentary and laid it on the table in front of the window. Opened at the service for the day, she also opened the New Testament and placed it beside the commentary. Finally she drew up the big armchair, which was bought at the parish auction the year before, and which, as a rule, no one but father was permitted to occupy. The boy said thinking that his mother was giving herself altogether too much trouble with this spread, for he had no intention of reading more than a page or so. But now, for the second time, it was almost as if his father were able to see right through him. He walked up to the boy and said in a severe tone, Now remember that you are to read carefully him, for when we come back I shall question you thoroughly, and if you have skipped a single page it will not go well with you. The service is fourteen and a half pages long, said his mother, just as if she wanted to heap up the measure of his misfortune. You'll have to sit down and begin the reading at once, if you expect to get through with it. With that they departed, and as the boy stood in the doorway watching them, he thought that he had been caught in a trap. There they go, congratulating themselves, I suppose, in the belief that they've hit upon something so good that I'll be forced to sit and hang over the sermon the whole time that they are away, thought he. But his father and mother were certainly not congratulating themselves upon anything of the sort, but on the contrary they were very much distressed. They were poor farmers, and their place was not much bigger than a garden plot. When they first moved there, the place couldn't feed more than one pig and a pair of chickens, but they were uncommonly industrious and capable for, and now they had both cows and geese. Things had turned out very well for them, and they would have gone to church that beautiful morning, satisfied and happy, if they hadn't had their son to think of. Father complained that he was dull and lazy. He had not cared to learn anything at school, and he was such an all-round good for nothing that he could barely be made to ten geese. Mother did not deny that this was true, but she was most distressed because she was wild and bad, cruel to animals and ill-willed toward human beings. May God soften his hard heart, and give him a better disposition, said the mother, or else he will be a misfortune, both to himself and to us. The boy stood for a long time and pondered whether he should read the service or not. Finally he came to the conclusion that this time it was best to be obedient. He seated himself in the easy chair and began to read, but when he had been reading away in an undertone for a little while, this mumbling seemed to have a soothing effect upon him, and he began to nod. It was the most beautiful weather outside. It was only the 20th of March, but the boy lived in West Wemmingurg township down in southern Scorne, where the spring was already in full swing. It was not as yet green, but it was fresh and budding. There was water in all the trenches, and the cold's foot on the edge of the ditch was in bloom. All the weeds that grew in among the stones were brown and shiny. The beech woods in the distance seemed to swell and grow thicker with every second. The skies were high and a clear blue. The cottage doors to the jar, and the lark's trill could be heard in the room. The hens, the geese patted about in the yard, and the cows, who felt the spring air away in their stalls, load their approval every now and then. The boy read and nodded, and fought against drowsiness. No, I don't want to full asleep, thought he, for then I'll not get through with this thing the whole forenoon. But somehow he fell asleep. He did not know whether he had slept a short while or a long while, but he was awakened by hearing a slight noise back of him. On the windowsill facing the boys stood a small looking glass, and almost the entire cottage could be seen in this. As the boy raised his head, he happened to look in the glass, and then he saw that the covers to his mother's chest had been opened. His mother owned a great heavy ironbound oak chest, which she permitted no one but herself to open. Here she treasured all the things she had inherited from her mother, and of these she was especially careful. Here lay a couple of old-time peasant dresses of red homesman cloth with short bodice and plated shirt, and a pearl bedecked breastpin. There were starched white linen headdresses and heavy silver ornaments and chains. Forks don't care to go about dressed like that in these days, and several times his mother had thought of getting rid of the old things, but somehow she hadn't had the heart to do it. Now the boy saw distinctly in the glass that the chest lid was open. He could not understand how this had happened, for his mother had closed the chest before she went away. She never would have left that precious chest open when he was at home alone. He became low-spirited and apprehensive. He was afraid that a thief had sneaked his way into the cottage. He didn't dare to move, but sat still and stared into the looking glass. While he sat there and waited for the thief to make his appearance, he began to wonder what that dark shadow was which fell across the edge of the chest. He looked and looked, and did not want to believe his eyes. But the thing which at first seemed shadowy became more and more clear to him, and soon he saw that it was something real. It was no less a thing than an elf who sat there astride the edge of the chest. To be sure, the boy had heard stories about elves, but he had never dreamt that they were such tiny creatures. He was no taller than a hand-spread, this one, who sat on the edge of the chest. He had an old wrinkled and beardless face, and was dressed in a black frock coat, knee breeches, and a broad-rimmed black hat. He was very trim and smart, with his white laces about the throat, and wristbands, his buckle shoes, and the bows on his carters. He had taken from the chest an embroidered piece, and sat and looked at the old-fashioned handiwork with such an air of veneration that he did not observe that the boy had awakened. The boy was somewhat surprised to see the elf, but on the other hand he was not particularly frightened. It was impossible to be afraid of one who was so little, and since the elf was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he neither saw nor heard, the boy thought that it would be great fun to play a trick on him, to push him over into the chest and chuck the lid on him, or something of that kind. But the boy was not so courageous that he dared to touch the elf with his hands. Instead he looked around the room for something to poke him with. He let his gaze wander from the sofa to the leaf table, from the leaf table to the fireplace. He looked at the kettles, then at the coffee urn which stood on a shelf near the fireplace, on the water bucket near the door, and on the spoons and knives and forks and saucers and plates which could be seen through the half-open cupboards. He looked at his father's gun, which hang on the wall, beside the portrait of the Danish royal family, and on the geraniums and fuchsias which blossomed in the window. And last he cut sight of an old butterfly snare that hang on the window frame. He had hardly set eyes on that butterfly snare before he reached over and snatched it and jumped up and swang it alongside the edge of the chest. He was himself astonished at the luck he had. He hardly knew how he had managed it, but he had actually snared the elf. The poor little chap lay head downward in the bottom of the long snare and could not free himself. The first moment the boy hadn't the least idea what he should do with this prize. He was only particular to swing the snare backward and forward to prevent the elf from getting a foothold and clambering up. The elf began to speak and begged oh so pitifully for his freedom. He had brought them good luck these many years, he said, and deserved better treatment. Now if the boy would set him free, he would give him an old coin, a silver spoon and a gold penny, as big as the case of his father's silver watch. The boy didn't think that this was much of an offer, but it so happened that after he had forgotten the elf in his power, he was afraid of him. He felt that he had entered into an agreement with something weird and uncanny, something which did not belong to his world and he was only too glad to get rid of the horrid thing. For this reason he agreed at once to the bargain and held the snare still so that the elf could crawl out of it. But when the elf was almost out of the snare, the boy happened to think that he ought to have bargained for large estates and all sorts of good things. He should at least have made this stipulation that the elf must conjure the sermon into his head. What a fool I was to let him go, thought he, and began to shake the snare violently so the elf would tumble down again. But the instant the boy did this, he received such a stinging box on the air that he thought his head would fly in pieces. He was stashed first against one wall, then against the other, he sank to the floor and lay there, senseless. When he awoke he was alone in the cottage. The chest lid was down and the butterfly snare hung in its usual place by the window. If he had not felt how the dry cheek burnt from that box on the air, he would have been tempted to believe the whole thing had been a dream. At any rate father and mother would be sure to insist that it was nothing else, thought he. They are not likely to make any allowances for that old sermon on account of the elf. It is best for me to get at that reading again, thought he. But as he walked toward the table, he noticed something remarkable. It couldn't be possible that the cottage had grown, but why was he obliged to take so many more steps than usual to get to the table? And what was the matter with the chair? It looked no bigger than it did a while ago. But now he had to step on the rung first and then clamber up in order to reach the seat. It was the same thing with the table. He could not look over the top without climbing to the arm of the chair. What in all the world is this? said the boy. I believe the elf has bewitched both the armchair and the table and the whole cottage. The commentary lay on the table and to all appearances it was not changed. But there must have been something queer about that too, for he could not manage to read a single word of it without actually standing right in the book itself. He read a couple of lines and then he chanced to look up. With that his glance fell on the looking glass and then he cried aloud, Look, there's another one. For in the glass he saw plainly a little little creature who was dressed in a hood and leather breeches. Why, that one is dressed exactly like me, said the boy and clasped his hands in astonishment. But then he saw that the thing in the mirror did the same thing. Then he began to pull his hair and pinch his arms and swing round. And instantly he did the same thing after him, he who was seen in the mirror. The boy ran around the glass several times to see if there wasn't a little man hidden behind it. But he found no one there, and then he began to shake with terror. For now he understood that the elf had bewitched him and that the creature whose image he saw in the glass was he himself. The wild geese. The boy simply could not make himself believe that he had been transformed into an elf. It can't be anything but a dream a queer fancy thought he. If I wait a few moments I'll surely be turned back into a human being again. He placed himself before the glass and closed his eyes. He opened them again after a couple of minutes and then expected to find that it had all passed over, but it hadn't. He was and remained just as little. In other respects he was the same as before. The thin straw-colored hair, the freckles across his nose, the patches on his leather breeches and the darnes on his stockings were all like themselves with the exception that they had become diminished. No, it would do no good for him to stand still and wait. Of this he was certain. He must try something else, and he thought the wisest thing that he could do was to try and find the elf and make his peace with him. And while he sought, he cried and prayed and promised everything he could think of. Never more would he break his word to anyone. Never again would he be naughty, and never, never would he fall asleep again over the sermon. If he might only be a human being once more, he would be such a good and helpful and obedient boy. But no matter how much he promised, it did not help him the least little bit. Suddenly he remembered that he had heard his mother say all the tiny fork made their home in the cowsheds and at once he concluded to go there and see if he couldn't find the elf. It was a lucky thing that the cottage door stood partly open, for he never could have reached the bolt and opened it, but now he slipped through without any difficulty. When he came out in the hallway, he looked around for his wooden shoes, for in the house to be sure he had gone about in his stocking feet. He wondered how he should manage with these big, clumsy wooden shoes, but just then he saw a pair of tiny shoes on the doorstep. When he observed that the elf had been so thoughtful that he had also bewitched the wooden shoes, he was even more troubled. It was evidently his intention that this affliction should last a long time. On the wooden boardwalk in front of the cottage hopped a gray sparrow. He had hardly set eyes on the boy before he called out, Tee-tee, tee-tee, look at Nils' goosey boy, look at Thumbi-tot, look at Nils Holgersson, Thumbi-tot. Instantly both the geese and the chicken turned and stared at the boy, and then they set up a fearful cackling. Cock-a-doodle-doo! cried the rooster. Good enough for him! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Good enough for him! Cock-a-doodle-doo! He has pulled my comb. Cock-a-doodle-doo! Serve him right! cried the hens. And with that they kept up a continuous cackle. The geese got together in a tight group, stuck their heads together and asked, Who can have done this? Who can have done this? But the strangest thing of all was that the boy understood what they said. He was so astonished that he stood there as if rooted to the doorstep and listened. It must be because I am changed into an elf, said he. This is probably why I understand bird-talk. He thought it was unbearable that the hens would not stop saying that it sowed him right. He threw a stone at them and shouted, Shut up, you pack! But it hadn't occurred to him before that he was no longer the sort of boy the hens need fear. The whole henyard made a rush for him and formed a ring around him. Then they all cried at once. Cock-a-doodle-doo! Serve you right! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Serve you right! The boy tried to get away, but the chickens ran after him and screamed until he thought he'd lose his hearing. It is more than likely that he never could have gone away from them, if the house cat hadn't come along just then. As soon as the chickens saw the cat, they quieted down and pretended to be thinking of nothing else than just to scratch in the earth for worms. Immediately the boy ran up to the cat. You dear pussy, said he, you must know all the corners and hiding places about here. You'll be a good little kitty and tell me where I can find the elf. The cat did not reply at once. He seated himself, curled his tail into a graceful ring around his paw and stared at the boy. It was a large black cat with one white spot on his chest. His fur lay sleek and soft and shone in the sunlight. The claws were drawn in and the eyes were a dull grey with a just a little narrow dark streak down the centre. The cat looked thoroughly good-natured and inoffensive. I know well enough where the elf lives, he said in a soft voice, but that doesn't say that I am going to tell you about it. Dear pussy, you must tell me where the elf lives, said the boy. Can't you see how he has bewitched me? The cat opened his eyes a little so that the green wickedness began to shine forth. He spun round and purred with satisfaction before he replied, Shall I perhaps help you, because you have so often grabbed me by the tail? He said at last. Then the boy was furious and forgot entirely how little and helpless he was now. Oh, I can pull your tail again! I can! said he and ran toward the cat. The next instant the cat was so changed that the boy could scarcely believe it was the same animal. Every separate hair on his body stood on end. The back was bent, the legs had become elongated, the claws scraped the ground, the tail had grown thick and short, the ears were laid back, the mouth was frothy, and the eyes were wide open and glistened like sparks of red fire. The boy didn't want to let himself be scared by the cat, and he took a step forward. Then the cat made one spring and landed right on the boy, knocked him down and stood over him, his forepaws on his chest and his jaws wide apart over his throat. The boy felt how the sharp claws sank through his vest and shirt and into his skin, and how the sharp eye-teeth tickled his throat. He shrieked for help as loudly as he could, but no one came. He thought surely that his last hour had come. Then he felt that the cat drew in his claws and let go the hold on his throat. There, he said, that will do now. I'll let you go this time for my mistress's sake. I only wanted you to know which one of us two has the power now. With that the cat walked away, looking as smooth and pious as he did when he first appeared on the scene. The boy was so crestfallen that he didn't say a word, but only hurried to the cowhouse to look for the elf. There were not more than three cows, all told, but when the boy came in, there was such a bellowing and such a kick-up that one might easily have believed that there were at least thirty. Moo! Moo! Moo! Bellowed mayrows, it is well there is such a thing as justice in this world. Moo! Moo! Moo! Sang the three of them in unison. He couldn't hear what they said, for each one tried to out bellow the others. The boy wanted to ask after the elf, but he couldn't make himself heard, because the cows were in full uproar. They carried on as they used to do when he let a strange dog in on them. They kicked with their hind legs, shook their necks, stretched their heads, and measured the distance with their horns. Come here now, said mayrows, and you'll get a kick that you won't forget in a hurry. Come here, said gold lily, and you shall dance on my horns. Come here, and you shall taste how it felt when you threw your wooden shoes at me as you did last summer, bald star. Come here, and you shall be repaid for that wasp you let loose in my ear, growled gold lily. Mayrows was the oldest and the wisest of them, and she was the very maddest. Come here, said she, that I may pay you back for the many times that you have jerked the milk-pale away from your mother, and for all the snares you laid for her when she came carrying the milk-pales, and for all the tears when she had stood here and wept over you. The boy wanted to tell them how he regretted that he had been unkind to them, and that never, never from now on should he be anything but good if they would only tell him where the elf was. But the cows didn't listen to him. They made such a racket that he began to fear one of them would succeed in breaking loose, and he thought that the best thing for him to do was to go quietly away from the cowhouse. When he came out, he was thoroughly disheartened. He could understand that no one on the place wanted to help him find the elf, and little good would it do him probably if the elf were found. He crawled up on the broad hedge, which fenced in the farm, and which was overgrown with briars and lichen. There he sat down to think about how it would go with him. If he never became a human being again, when father and mother came home from church, there would be a surprise for them. Yes, a surprise. It would be all over the land, and people would come flocking from East Wemminghurg and from Thorpe and from Skereop. The whole Wemminghurg township would come to stare at him. Perhaps father and mother would take him with them and show him at the marketplace in Chivik. No, that was too horrible to think about. He would rather that no human being should ever see him again. His unhappiness was simply frightful. No one in all the world was so unhappy as he. He was no longer a human being but a freak. Little by little he began to comprehend what it meant to be no longer human. He was separated from everything now. He could no longer play with other boys. He could not take charge of the farm after his parents were gone, and certainly no girl would think of marrying him. He sat and looked at his home. It was a little log house which lay as if it had been crushed down to earth under the high sloping roof. The outhouses were also small, and the patches of ground were so narrow that a horse could barely turn around on them. But little and poor though the place was, it was much too good for him now. He couldn't ask for any better place than a hole under the stable floor. It was wondrously beautiful weather. It budded, and it rippled, and it murmured, and it twitched all around him. But he sat there with such a heavy sorrow. He should never be happy any more about anything. Never had he seen the skies as blue as they were today. Birds of passage came on their travels. They came from foreign lands and had traveled over the East Sea by way of Smigahuk and were now on their way north. They were of many different kinds, but he was only familiar with the wild geese who came flying in two long rows which met at an angle. Several flocks of wild geese had already flown by. They flew very high, still he could hear how they shrieked. To the hills, now we're off to the hills. When the wild geese saw the tame geese who walked about the farm, they sank nearer the earth and called, Come along, come along, we're off to the hills. The tame geese could not resist the temptation to raise their heads and listen, but they answered very sensibly, We're pretty well off where we are, we're pretty well off where we are. It was, as we have said, an uncommonly fine day with an atmosphere that it must have been a real delight of flying, so light and bracing, and with each new wild geese flock that flew by, the tame geese became more and more unruly. A couple of times they flapped their wings as if they had half a mind to fly alone, but then an old mother goose would always say to them, Now don't be silly, those creatures will have to suffer both hunger and cold. There was a young gander whom the wild geese had fired with a passion for adventure. If another flock comes this way, I'll follow them, said he. Then there came a new flock who shrieked like the others, and the young gander answered, Wait a minute, wait a minute, I'm coming. He spread his wings and raced himself into the air, but he was so unaccustomed to flying that he fell to the ground again. At any rate the wild geese must have heard his call, for they turned and flew back slowly to see if he was coming. Wait, wait, he cried and made another attempt to fly. All this the boy heard where he lay on the hedge. It would be a great pity, thought he, if the big goose gander should go away. It would be a big loss to father and mother if he was gone when they came home from church. When he thought of this once again, he entirely forgot that he was little and helpless. He took one leap right down into the goose flock and threw his arms around the neck of the goose gander. Oh no, you don't fly away this time, sir, cried he. But just then the gander was considering how he should go to work to erase himself from the ground. He couldn't stop to shake the boy off, hence he had to go along with him, up in the air. They bore on toward the hide so rapidly that the boy fairly gasped before he had time to think that he ought to let go his hold around the gander's neck. He was so high up that he would have been killed instantly if he had fallen to the ground. The only thing that he could do to make himself a little more comfortable was to try and get upon the gander's back. And there he wriggled himself forthwith, but not without considerable trouble, and it was not an easy matter either to hold himself secure on the slippery back between two swaying wings. He had to dig deep into feathers and down with both hands to keep from tumbling to the ground. The big checked cloth. The boy had grown so giddy that it was a long while before he came to himself. The winds howled and beat against him, and the rustle of feathers and swaying wings sounded like a whole storm. Thirteen geese flew around him, flapping their wings and honking. They danced before his eyes and they bust in his ears. He didn't know whether they flew high or low, or in what direction they were travelling. After a beat he regained just enough sense to understand that he ought to find out where the geese were taking him. But this was not so easy, for he didn't know how he should ever muster up courage enough to look down. He was sure he'd faint if he attempted it. The wild geese were not flying very high because the new travelling companion could not breathe in the very thinnest air, for his sake they also flew a little slower than usual. At last the boy just made himself cast one glance down to earth. Then he thought that a great big rug lay spread beneath him, which was made up of an incredible number of large and small checks. Where in all the world am I now? he wondered. He saw nothing but check upon check. Some were broad and ran crosswise, and some were long and narrow all over. There were angles and corners, nothing was round, and nothing was crooked. What kind of big checked cloth is this that I'm looking down on? said the boy to himself without expecting anyone to answer him. But instantly the wild geese who flew about him called out, fields and meadows, fields and meadows. Then he understood that the big checked cloth he was travelling over was the flat land of southern Sweden, and he began to comprehend why it looked so checked and multicoloured. The bright green checks he recognised first, they were rye fields that had been sown in the fall, and had kept themselves green under the winter's nose. The yellowish grey checks were stubble fields, the remains of the oat crop which had grown theirs the summer before. The brownish ones were old clover meadows, and the black ones deserted grazing lands or plowed up fallow pastures. The brown checks with the yellow edges were undoubtedly beech tree forests. For in these you'll find the big trees which grow in the heart of the forest, naked in the winter, while the little beech trees which grow along the borders keep their dry yellow leaves way into the spring. There were also dark checks with grey centres. These were the large built up estates encircled by the small cottages with their blackening straw roofs, and their stone divided land plots. And then there were checked screen in the middle with brown borders. These were the orchards where the grass carpets were already turning green, although the trees and bushes around them were still in their nude brown bark. The boy could not keep from laughing when he saw how checked everything looked. But when the wild geese heard him laugh, they called out kind of reprovingly, Fertile in good land, fertile in good land. The boy had already become serious to think that you can laugh, you who have met with the most terrible misfortune that can possibly happen to a human being, thought he, and for a moment he was pretty serious, but it wasn't long before he was laughing again. Now that he had grown somewhat accustomed to the ride and the speed so that he could think of something besides holding himself on the gander's back, he began to notice how full the air was of birds flying northward, and there was a shouting and calling from flock to flock. So you came over today, shrieksome. Yes, answered the geese, how do you think the spring is getting on? Not a leaf on the trees and ice cold water in the lakes came back the answer. When the geese flew over a place where they saw any tame half-naked fowl, they shouted, What's the name of this place? What's the name of this place? Then the rooster cocked their heads and answered, Its names Lilligard this year, the same as last year. Most of the cottages were probably named after their owners, which is the custom in Skåne. But instead of saying this is permatsens or ullab bosns, the roosters hit upon the kind of names which to their way of thinking were more appropriate. Those who lived on small farms and belonged to poor cottages cried, This plate is called grain scares. And those who belonged to the poorest hud-tweller screamed, The name of this place is little to eat, little to eat, little to eat. The big well cared for farms got high sounding names from the roosters, such as Lucky Meadows, Eggberry and Money Bill. But the roosters on the great landed estates were too high and mighty to condescend to anything like jesting. One of them crowed and called out with such gusto that it sounded as if he wanted to be heard clear up to the sun. This is her de-bext estate, the same this year as last year, this year as last year. A little further on strutted one rooster to a crowd, This is one home, surely all the world knows that. The boy observed that the geese did not fly straight forward, but zig-sacked hither and thither over the whole South country, just as though they were glad to be in Skåne again and wanted to pay their respects to every separate place. They came to one place where there were a number of big clumsy looking buildings with great tall chimneys and all around these were a lot of smaller houses. This is your barrier, sugar refinery, cried the roosters. The boy shuddered as he sat there on the goose's back. He ought to have recognized this place, for it was not very far from his home. Here he had worked the year before as a watch-boy, but to be sure nothing was exactly like itself when one saw it like that, from up above. And think, just think, who also the goose-girl and little mutts who were his comrades last year. Indeed, the boy would have been glad to know if they still were anywhere about here. Fancy what they should have said had they suspected that he was flying over their heads. Soon Yordbärja was lost to sight, and they travelled towards Svedala and Scarver Lake and back again over Göring a cluster and Heckebärja. The boy saw more of Skåne in this one day than he had ever seen before, in all the years that he had lived. Whenever the wild geese happened across any tame geese, they had the best fun. They flew forward very slowly and called down, We're off to the hills, are you coming along, are you coming along? But the tame geese answered, It's still winter in this country, You're out too soon, fly back, fly back. The wild geese lowered themselves that they might be heard a little better and called, Come along, we'll teach you how to fly and swim. Then the tame geese got mad and wouldn't answer them with a single honk. The wild geese sank themselves still lower until they almost touched the ground. Then, quickest lightning, they raced themselves, just as if they had been terribly frightened. Oh, oh, oh, they explained, those things were not geese, they were only sheep, they were only sheep. The ones on the ground were beside themselves with rage and shriek, May you be shot, the whole lot of you, the whole lot of you. When the boy heard all these teasing, he laughed. Then he remembered how badly things had gone with him, and he cried. But the next second he was laughing again. Never before had he ridden so fast, and to ride fast and recklessly, that he had always liked. And, of course, he had never dreamt that it could be as fresh and bracing as it was up in the air, or that there rose from the earth such a fine scent of resin and soil, nor had he ever dreamt what it could be like to ride so high above the earth. It was just like flying away from sorrow and trouble and annoyances of every kind that could be thought of. End of The Boy, read by Lars Rolander. Section 2 of The Wonderful Adventures of Nils This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Lars Rolander. The Wonderful Adventures of Nils by Selma Lagerlöve. Translated by Velma Swonston Howard. Aka from Kebne Kajse. Evening. The big-time goose gander that had followed them up in the air felt very proud of being permitted to travel back and forth over the south country with the wild geese and cracked jokes with the tame birds. But in spite of his keen delight he began to tire as the afternoon wore on. He tried to take deeper breath and quicker wing strokes, but even so he remained several goose lengths behind the others. When the wild geese who flew last noticed that the tame one couldn't keep up with them, they began to call to the goose who rode in the centre of the angle and led the procession. Aka from Kebne Kajse. Aka from Kebne Kajse. What do you want to me? Ask the leader. The white one will be left behind. The white one will be left behind. Telling me it is easier to fly fast than slow, called the leader and raced on as before. The goose gander certainly tried to follow the advice and increased his speed, but then he became so exhausted that he sank away down to the drooping willows that boarded the fields and meadows. Aka, Aka, Aka from Kebne Kajse. Cried those who flew last and saw what a hard time he was having. What do you want now? Ask the leader and she sounded awfully angry. The white one sings to the earth. The white one sings to the earth. Telling me it is easier to fly high than low, shouted the leader and she didn't slow up the least little bit, but raced on as before. The goose gander tried also to follow this advice, but when he waited to race himself, he became so winded that he almost burst his breast. Aka, Aka, again cried those who flew last. Can't you let me fly in peace, asked the leader, and she sounded even madder than before. The white one is ready to collapse. Tell him that he who has not the strength to fly with a flock can go back home, cried the leader. She certainly had no idea of decreasing her speed, but raced on as before. Oh, is that the way the wind blows, thought the goose agander. He understood at once that the wild geese had never intended to take him along up to Lapland. They had only lured him away from home in sport. He felt thoroughly exasperated to think that his strength should fail him now, so he wouldn't be able to show these trams that even a tame goose was good for something, but the most provoking thing of all was that he had fallen in with Aka from Kebnekaise. Tame goose that he was, he had heard about a leader goose named Aka, who was more than a hundred years old. She had such a big name that the best wild geese in the world followed her. But no one had such a contempt for tame geese as Aka and her flock, and gladly would he have shown them that he was their equal. He flew slowly behind the rest while he deliberated whether he should turn back or continue. Finally the little creature that he carried on his back said, Dear Morton goose agander, you know well enough that it is simply impossible for you, who have never flown to go with the wild geese all the way up to Lapland, won't you turn back before you kill yourself? But the farmer's lad was about the worst thing that the goose agander knew anything about, and as soon as it dawned on him that this puny creature actually believed that he couldn't make the trip, he decided to stick it out. If you say another word about this, I'll drop you into the first ditch we ride over, said he, and at the same time his fury gave him so much strength that he began to fly almost as well as any of the others. It isn't lightly that he could have kept his pace up very long. Neither was it necessary for just then the sun sang quickly and at sunset the geese flew down and before the boy and the goose agander knew what had happened, they stood on the shores of Womblake. They probably intend that we shall spend the night here, thought the boy, and jumped down from the goose's back. He stood on a narrow beach by a fair-sized lake. It was ugly to look upon because it was almost entirely covered with an ice crust that was blackened and uneven and full of cracks and holes as spring ice generally is. The ice was already breaking up. It was loose and floating and had a broad belt of dark, shiny water all around it, but there was still enough of it left to spread chill and winter terror over the place. On the other side of the lake, there appeared to be an opened and light country, but where the geese had lighted, there was a thick pine growth. It looked as if the forest of furs and pines had the power to bind the winter to itself. Everywhere else the ground was bare, but beneath the sharp pine branches lay snow that had been melting and freezing, melting and freezing until it was hard as ice. The boy thought he had struck an arctic wilderness and he was so miserable that he wanted to scream. He was hungry, too. He hadn't eaten a bite the whole day, but where should he find any food? Nothing eatable grew on either ground or tree in the month of March. Yes, where was he to find food and who would give him shelter and who would fix his bed and who would protect him from the wild beasts? For now the sun was away and frost came from the lake and darkness sank down from heaven and terror stole forward on the twilight's trail and in the forest it began to patter and rustle. Now the good humor which the boy had felt when he was up in the air was gone and in his misery he looked around for his travelling companions. He had no one but them to cling to now. Then he saw that the goosigunder was having even a worse time of it than he. He was lying prostrate on the spot where he had alighted and it looked as if he were ready to die. His neck lay flat against the ground, his eyes were closed and his breathing sounded like a feeble hissing. Dear Morton Goosigunder, said the boy, try to get a swallow of water. It is in two steps to the lake but the goosigunder didn't stir. The boy had certainly been cruel to all animals and to the goosigunder in times gone by, but now he felt that the goosigunder was the only comfort he had left and he was dreadfully afraid of losing him. At once the boy began to push and drag him to get him into the water but the goosigunder was big and heavy and it was a mighty hard work for the boy but at last he succeeded. The goosigunder got in head first for an instant he lay motionless in the slime but soon he poked up his head, shook the water from his eyes and sniffed. Then he swam proudly between reeds and seaweed. The wild geese were in the lake before him. They had not looked around for either the goosigunder or for his rider but had made straight for the water. They had bathed and primmed and now they lay and gout half rotten pondweed and water clover. The white goosigunder had the good fortune to spy a perch. He grabbed it quickly, swam ashore with it and laid it down in front of the boy. Here's a thank you for helping me into the water, said he. It was the first time the boy had heard a friendly word that day. He was so happy that he wanted to throw his arms around the goosigunder's neck but he refrained and he was also thankful for the gift. At first he must have thought that it would be impossible to eat raw fish and then he had a notion to try it. He fell to see if he still had his sheath knife with him and sure enough there it hung on the back button of his trousers although it was so diminished that it was hardly as long as a match. Well, at any rate it served a scale and cleanse fish with and it wasn't long before the perch was eaten. When the boy had satisfied his hunger he felt a little ashamed because he had been able to eat a raw thing. It is evident that I'm not a human being any longer but a real elf thought he. While the boy ate, the goosigunder stood silently beside him but when he had swallowed the last bite he said in a low voice it's a fact that we have run across a stuck-up goos fork who despise all tame birds. Yes, I have observed that, said the boy. What a triumph it would be for me if I could follow them clear up to Lapland and show them that even a tame goose can do things. Yes, and drawled it out because he didn't believe the goosigunder could ever do it yet he didn't wish to contradict him. But I don't think I can get along all alone on such a journey said the goosigunder. I'd like to ask you if you couldn't come along and help me. The boy, of course, hadn't expected anything but to return to his home as soon as possible and he was so surprised that he hardly knew what he should reply. I thought we were envious you and I, said he but this the goosigunder seemed to have forgotten entirely. He only remembered that the boy had but just saved his life. I suppose I really ought to go home to father and mother, said the boy. Oh, I'll get you back to them sometime in the fall, said the goosigunder. I shall not leave you until I put you down on your own doorstep. The boy thought it might be just as well for him if he escaped showing himself before his parents for a while. He was not disinclined to favour the scheme and was just on the point of saying that he agreed to it when they heard a loud rumbling behind them. It was the wild geese who had come up from the lake all at one time and stood shaking the water from their backs. After that they arranged themselves in a long row with the leader Goose in the centre and came toward them. As the white goosigunder ceased up the wild geese, he felt ill at ease. He had expected that they should be more like tame geese and that he should feel a closer kinship with them. They were much smaller than he and none of them were white. They were all grey with a sprinkling of brown. He was almost afraid of their eyes. They were yellow and shone as if fire had been kindled back in them. The goosigunder had always been taught that it was most fitting to move slowly and with a rolling motion, but these creatures did not walk. They half ran. He grew most alarmed, however, when he looked at their feet. These were large and the soles were torn and ragged looking. It was evident that the wild geese never questioned what they'd tramped upon. They took no bypass. They were very neat and well cared for in other respects, but one could see by their feet that they were poor wilderness folk. The goosigunder only had time to whisper to the boy, speak up quickly for yourself, and tell them who you are before the geese were upon them. When the wild geese had stopped in front of them, they curticed with their necks many times and the goosigunder did likewise many more times. As soon as the ceremonies were over, the leader goos said, Now I presume we shall hear what kind of creatures you are. There isn't much to tell about me, said the goosigunder. I was born in Skaneur last spring. In the fall I was sold to Holger Nielsen, a West Wemmingherg, and there I have lived ever since. You don't seem to have any pedigree to boast of, said the leader goos. What is it then that makes you so high-minded that you wish to associate with wild geese? It may be because I want to show you wild geese that we tame once may also be good for something, said the goosigunder. Yes, it would be well if you could show us that, said the leader goos. We have already observed how much you know about flying, but you are more skilled perhaps in other sports. Possibly you are strong in a swimming much? No, I can't boast that I am, said the goosigunder. It seemed to him that the leader goos had already made up her mind to send him home, so he didn't much care how he answered. I never swam any farther than across a maaldich, he continued. Then I presume you are a crack sprinter, said the goos. I have never seen a tame goos run, nor have I ever done it myself, said the goosigunder, and he made things appear much worse than they really were. The big white one was sure now that the leader goos would say under no circumstances could they take him along. He was very much astonished when she said, You answer questions courageously, and he who has courage can become a good travelling companion, even if he is ignorant in the beginning. What do you say to stopping with us for a couple of days until we can see what you are good for? That suits me, said the goosigunder, and he was thoroughly happy. Thereupon the leader goos pointed with her bill and said, But who is that you have with you? I've never seen anything like him before. That's my comrade, said the goosigunder. He has been a goos tender all his life. He'll be useful all right to take with us on the trip. Yes, he may be all right for a tame goos, answered the wild one. What do you call him? He has several names, said the goosigunder hesitantly, not knowing what he should hit upon in a hurry, for he didn't want to reveal the fact that the boy had a human name. Oh, his name is Thambitot, he said at last. Does he belong to the elf family? Asked the leader goos. At what time do you wild geese usually retire, said the goosigunder quickly, trying to evade that last question. My eyes close of their own accord about this time. One could easily see that the goos who talked with the gunder was very old. Her entire feather outfit was ice-grey, without any dark streaks. The head was larger, the legs coarser, and the feet were more worn than any of the others. The feathers were stiff, the shoulders knotty, the neck thin. All this was due to age. It was only upon the eyes that time had no effect. They shone brighter as if they were younger than any of the others. She turned very hotly toward the goosigunder. Understand, Mr. Thaimgoose, that I am Aka from Kebnekaise, and that the goose who flies nearest me to the right is Iksi from Vasiaore, and the one to the left is Kaxi from Nualya. Understand also that the second right-hand goose is from Kolmi, from Sarikchakko, and the second left is Snelliai from Swapavara, and behind them fly Visi from Uviksfjellen and Kusi from Shangeli. And now that these, as well as the six gooslings who fly last, three to the right and three to the left, are all high mountain geese of the finest breed, you must not take us for landlubbers who strike up a chance acquaintance with any and everyone, and you must not think that we permit anyone to share our quarters that will not tell us who his ancestors were. When Aka the leader goose talked in this way, the boy stepped briskly forward. It had distressed him that the gooseigunder, who had spoken up so glibly for himself, should give such evasive answers when it concerned him. I don't care to make a secret of who I am, said he. My name is Nils Holgersson. I'm a farmer's son, and until today I have been a human being, but this morning he got no further. As soon as he had said that he was a human, the leader goose staggered three steps backward, and the rest of them even farther back. They all extended their necks and hissed angrily at him. I have suspected this ever since I first saw your hair on these shores, said Aka, and now you can clear out of here at once. We tolerate no human beings among us. It isn't possible, said the gooseigunder meditatively, that you wild geese can be afraid of anyone who is so tiny. By tomorrow, of course, he'll turn back home. You can surely let him stay with us overnight. No one of us can afford to let such a poor little creature wander off by himself in the night among weasels and foxes. The wild goose came nearer, but it was evident that it was hard for her to master her fear. I have been taught to fear everything in human shape, be it big or little, said she. But if you will answer for this one, and swear that he will not harm us, he can stay with us tonight. But I don't believe our night quarters are suitable either for him or you, for we intend to roost on the broken ice out there. She thought, of course, that the gooseigunder would be doubtful when he heard this, but he never let on. She is pretty wise who knows how to choose such a safe bed, said he. You will be answerable for his return to his own tomorrow. Then I too will have to leave you, said the gooseigunder. I have sworn that I would not forsake him. You are free to fly with her, you will, said the lead goose. With this she raised her wings and flew out over the ice, and one after another the wild geese followed her. The boy was very sad to think that his trip to Lapland would not come off, and in the bargain he was afraid of the chilly night quarters. It will be worse and worse, said he. In the first place will freeze to death on the ice. But the gander was in good humour. There is no danger, said he. Only make haste, I beg of you, and gather together as much grass and litter as you can well carry. When the boy had his arms full of dried grass, the gooseigunder grabbed him by the shirt band, lifted him and flew out on the ice where the wild geese were already fast asleep with their bills tucked under their wings. Now spread out the grass on the ice so there will be something to stand on to keep me from freezing fast. You help me and I'll help you, said the gooseigunder. This the boy did, and when he had finished the gooseigunder picked him up once again by the shirt band and tucked him under his wing. I think you like snug and warm there, said the gooseigunder, as he covered him with his wing. The boy was so embedded in down that he couldn't answer, and he was nice and comfy. Oh, but was he tired. And in less than two wings he was fast asleep. Night It is a fact that ice is always treacherous and not to be trusted. In the middle of the night the loosened ice-cake of Womblake moved about until one corner of it touched the shore. Now it happened that Mr. Smirre Fox who lived at this time in Irvid Cloister Park on the east side of the lake caught a glimpse of the one corner while he was out on his night-chase. Smirre had seen the wild geese early in the evening and hadn't dared to hope that he might get at one of them, but now he walked right out on the ice. When Smirre was near to the geese his claws scraped the ice and the geese awoke, flapped the wings and prepared for flight, but Smirre was too quick for them. He darted forward as though he had been shot, grabbed a goose by the wing, and ran toward land again. But this night the wild geese were not alone on the ice, for they had a human being among them, little as he was. The boy had awakened when the goose agander spread his wings. He had tumbled down on the ice and was sitting there dazed. He hadn't crossed the wise and wear-force of all this confusion until he caught sight of a little long-legged dog who ran over the ice with a goose in his mouth. In a minute the boy was after the dog to try and take the goose away from him. He must have heard the goose agander call to him, Have a care, Thambitot! Have a care! But the boy thought that such a little runt of a dog was nothing to be afraid of, and he rushed ahead. The wild goose that Smirre Fox tugged after him heard the clatter as the boys' wooden shoes beat against the ice, and she could hardly believe her ears. Does that infant think he can take me away from the fox? She wondered, and in spite of her misery she began to cackle right merrily deep down in her windpipe. It was almost as if she had laughed. The first thing he knows he'll fall through a crack in the eyes, thought she. But darkest the night was, the boys saw distinctly all the cracks and holes there were and took daring leaps over them. This was because he had the elf's good eyesight now to see in the dark. He saw both lake and shore just as clearly as if it had been daylight. Smirre Fox left the ice where it touched the shore, and just as he was working his way up to the land edge, the boys shouted, Drop that gold, you snake! Smirre didn't know who was calling to him and wasted no time in looking around, but increased his pace. The fox made straight for the forest and the boy followed him with never a thought of the danger he was running. All he thought about was the contemptuous way in which he had been received by the wild geese, and he made up his mind to let them see that a human being was something higher than all else created. He shouted again and again to that dog to make him drop his game. What kind of a dog are you who can steal a whole goose and not feel ashamed of yourself? Drop her at once or you'll see what a beating you'll get. Drop her, I say, or I'll tell your master how you behave. When Smirre Fox saw that he had been mistaken for a scary dog, he was so amused that he came near dropping the goose. Smirre was a great plunder who wasn't satisfied with only hunting rats and pigeons in the fields, but he also ventured into the farm yards to steal chickens and geese. He knew that he was feared throughout the district and anything as idiotic as this he had not heard since he was a baby. The boy ran so fast that the thick beech trees appeared to be running past him backward, but he caught up with Smirre. Finally he was so close to him that he got hold on his tail. Now I'll take the goose from you anyway, cried he, and held on as hard as ever he could, but he hadn't strength enough to stop Smirre. The Fox dragged him along until the dry foliage whirled around him. But now it began to dawn in Smirre how harmless the thing was that pursued him. He stopped short, put the goose on the ground and stood on her with his forepaws, so she couldn't fly away. He was just a way to bite off her neck, but then he couldn't resist the desire to tease the boy a little. Harry off and complained to the master, for now I'm going to bite the goose to death, said he. Certainly the one who was surprised when he saw what a pointed nose and heard what a hoarse and angry voice that dog, which he was pursuing had was the boy. But now he was so enraged because the Fox had made fun of him that he never thought of being frightened. He took a firmer hold on the tail, braced himself against a beech trunk, and just as the Fox opened his jaws over the goose's throat, he pulled as hard as he could. Smirre was so astonished that he let himself be pulled backward a couple of steps, and the wild goose got away. She fluttered upward feebly and heavily. One wing was so badly wounded that she could barely use it. In addition to this, she could not see in the night darkness of the forest, but was as helpless as the blind. Therefore she could in no way help the boy, so she grouped her way through the branches and flew down to the lake again. Then Smirre made a dash for the boy. If I don't get the one, I shall certainly have the other, said he, and you could tell by his voice how mad he was. Oh, don't you believe it, said the boy, who was in the best of spirits because he had saved the goose. He held fast by the Fox's tail and swung with it to one side when the Fox tried to catch him. There was such a dance in that forest that the dry beech leaves fairly flew. Smirre swung round and round, but the tail swang too while the boy kept a tight grip on it so the Fox could not grab him. The boy was so gay after his success that in the beginning he laughed and made fun of the Fox. But Smirre was persevering, as old hunters generally are, and the boy began to fear that he should be captured in the end. Then he could sight of a little, young beech tree that had shot up a slender as a rod that it might soon reach the free air above the canopy of branches, which the old beeches spread above it. Quick as a flash he let go the Fox's tail and climbed the beech tree. Smirre Fox was so excited that he continued to dance round after his tail. Don't bother with the dance any longer, said the boy, but Smirre couldn't endure the humiliation of his failure to get the better of such a little tot. So he lay down under the tree that he might keep a close watch on him. The boy didn't have any too good a time of it where he sat astride a frail branch. The young beech did not as yet reach the high branch canopy so the boy couldn't get over to another tree and he didn't dare to come down again. He was so cold and numb that he almost lost his hold around the branch and he was dreadfully sleepy but he didn't dare fall asleep for fear of tumbling down. My, but it was dismal to sit in that way the whole night through out in the forest. He never before understood the real meaning of night. It was just as if the whole world had become petrified and never could come to life again. Then it commenced to dawn. The boy was glad that everything began to look like itself once more although the chill was even sharper than it had been during the night. Finally, when the sun got up it wasn't yellow but red. The boy thought it looked as though it were angry and he wondered what it was angry about. Perhaps it was because the night had made it so cold and gloomy on earth while the sun was away. The sunbeams came down in great clusters to see what the night had been up to. It could be seen how everything blushed as if they all had guilty consciences. The clouds in the skies the satiny beach limbs the little interwind branches of the forest canopy the whole frost that covered the foliage on the ground everything grew flushed and red. More and more sunbeams came bursting through space and soon the night terrors were driven away and such a marvellous lot of living things came forward. The black woodpecker with the red neck began to hammer with its spill on the branch. The squirrel glided from his nest with a nut and sat down on a branch and began to shell it. The starling came flying with a worm and the bullfinch sang in the treetop. Then the boy understood that the sun had said to all these tiny creatures Wake up now and come out of your nests I'm here now you need be afraid of nothing. The wild goose call was heard from the lake as they were preparing for flight and soon all 14 geese came flying through the forest. The boy tried to call to them but they flew so high that his voice couldn't reach them. They probably believed the fox had eaten him up and they didn't trouble themselves to look for him. The boy came near crying with regret but the sun stood up there orange colored and happy and put courage into the whole world. It isn't worthwhile Nils Holgerson for you to be troubled about anything as long as I'm here said the sun. Goose play Monday March 21st Everything remained unchanged in the forest about as long as it takes a goose to eat her breakfast. But just as the morning was merging on forenoon a goose came flying all by herself under the thick tree canopy. She grouped her way hesitatingly between the stems and branches and flew very slowly. As soon as Smirre Fox saw her he left his place under the beach tree and sneaked up toward her. The wild goose didn't avoid the fox but flew very close to him. Smirre made a high jump for her but he missed her and the goose went on her way down to the lake. It was not long before another goose came flying. She took the same route as the first one and flew still lower and slower. She too flew close to Smirre Fox and he made such a high spring for her that his ears brushed her feet. But she too got away from him unhurt and went her way toward the lake silent as a shadow. A little while passed and then there came another wild goose. She flew still slower and lower and it seemed even more difficult for her to find her way between the beach branches. Smirre made a powerful spring. He was within a hairspread of catching her but that goose also managed to save herself. Just after she had disappeared came a fourth. She flew so slowly and so badly that Smirre Fox thought he could catch her without much effort. But he was afraid of failure now and concluded to let her fly past, unmolested. She took the same direction as the other had taken and just as she was come right above Smirre she sank down so far that he was tempted to jump for her. He jumped so high that he touched her with his tail but she flung herself quickly to one side and saved her life. Before Smirre got through panting three more geese came flying in a row. They flew just like the rest and Smirre made high springs for them all but he did not succeed in catching any one of them. After that came five geese but these flew better than the others and although it seemed as if they wanted to lure Smirre to jump he withstood the temptation. After quite a long time came one single goose. It was the thirteenth. This one was so old that she was grey all over without a dark speck anywhere on her body. She didn't appear to use one wing very well but flew so wretchedly and crookedly that she almost touched the ground. Smirre not only made a high leap for her but he pursued her running and jumping all the way down to the lake. But not even this time did he get anything for his trouble. When the fourteenth goose came along it looked very pretty because it was white and as its great wings swayed it glistened like a light in the dark forest. When Smirre Fox saw this one he mustered all his resources and jumped half way up to the tree canopy but the white one flew by unheard like the rest. Now it was quiet for a moment under the beaches it looked as if the whole wild goose flock had travelled past. Suddenly Smirre remembered his prisoner and raised his eyes toward the young beach tree and just as he might have expected the boy had disappeared. But Smirre didn't have much time to think about him for now the first goose came back again from the lake and flew slowly under the canopy. In spite of all his ill luck Smirre was glad that she came back and darted after her with a high leap but he had been in too much of a hurry and hadn't taken the time to calculate the distance and he landed at one side of the goose. Then there came still another goose then a third, a fourth, a fifth and so on until the angle closed in with the old ice grey one and the big white one. They all flew low and slow just as they swayed in the vicinity of Smirre Fox they sank down, kind of inviting light for him to take them. Smirre ran after them and made leaps a couple of phathoms high but he couldn't manage to get hold of a single one of them. It was the most awful day that Smirre Fox had ever experienced. The wild geese kept on travelling over his head came and went, came and went. Great splendid geese who had eaten themselves fat on the German heaths and grain fields swayed all day through the woods and so close to him that he touched them many times yet he was not permitted to appease his hunger with a single one of them. The winter was hardly gone yet and Smirre recalled nights and days when he had been forced to tramp around in idleness not so much as a hare to hunt when the rats hid themselves under the frozen earth and when the chickens were all shut up but all the winter's hunger had not been as hard to endure as this day's miscalculations. Smirre was no young fox he had had the dogs after him many a time and had heard the bullets whizz around his ears he had lain in hiding down in the lair while the dachshunds crept into the crevices and all but found him. But all the anguish that Smirre Fox had been forced to suffer under this hot chase was not to be compared with what he suffered every time that he missed one of the wild geese. In the morning when the play began Smirre Fox had looked so stunning that the geese were amazed when they saw him. Smirre loved display his coat was brilliant red his breast white his nose black and his tail was as bushy as a plume but when the evening of this day was come Smirre's coat hung in loose folds he was bathed in sweet his eyes were without luster his tongue hung far out from his gaping jaws and froth oased from his mouth. In the afternoon Smirre was so exhausted that he grew delirious. He saw nothing before his eyes but flying geese. He made leaves for sunspots which he saw on the ground and for a poor little butterfly that had come out of his chrysalis too soon. The wild geese flew and flew unceasingly all day long they continued to torment Smirre. They were not moved to pity because Smirre was done up fevered and out of his head they continued without a let up although they understood that he hardly saw them and that he jumped after their shadows. When Smirre Fox sank down on a pile of dry leaves weak and powerless and almost ready to give up the ghost they stopped teasing him. Now you know Mr. Fox what happens to the one who dares to come near Akka of Kebnekaise they shouted in his ear and with that they left him in peace. End of Akka from Kebnekaise Read by Lars Rolander