 section 32 of the Wonderful Adventures of Nils. The Wonderful Adventures of Nils by Selma Lagerlöf Translated by Velma Swonston-Howard Chapter 32 On Over Gestrikland The Precious Girl Wednesday, June 15th The eagle kept on flying until he was a long distance north of Stockholm. Then he sank to a wooded hillock where he relaxed his hold on the boy. The instant Thambitot was out of Gorgos' clutches, he started to run back to the city as fast as he could. The eagle made a long swoop, caught up to the boy, and stopped him with his claw. "'Don't you propose to go back to prison?' he demanded. "'That's my affair. I can go where I like for all of you,' retorted the boy, trying to get away. Thereupon the eagle gripped him with his strong taloons and rose in the air. Now Gorgos circled over the entire province of Upland and did not stop again until he came to the great waterfalls at Elbcarleby, where he alighted on a rock in the middle of the rushing rapids below the roaring falls. Again he relaxed his hold on the captive. The boy saw that there was no chance of escape from the eagle. Above them the white scum wall of the waterfall came tumbling down, and round about the river rushed along in a mighty torrent. Thambitot was very indignant to think that in this way he had been forced to become a promise breaker. He turned his back to the eagle and would not speak to him. Now that the bird had set the boy down in a place from which he could not run away, he told him, confidentially, that he had been brought up by Akka from Kebnekaise, and that he had quarreled with his foster mother. Now Thambitot, perhaps you understand why I wish to take you back to the wild geese, he said. I have heard that you are in great favour with Akka, and it was my purpose to ask you to make peace between us. As soon as the boy comprehended that the eagle had not carried him off in a spirit of contrariness, he felt kindly toward him. I should like very much to help you, he returned, but I am bound by my promise. Thereupon he explained to the eagle how he had fallen into captivity and how Clement Larson had left Skansen without setting him free. Nevertheless, the eagle would not relinquish his plan. Listen to me, Thambitot, he said. My wings can carry you wherever you wish to go, and my eyes can search out whatever you wish to find. Tell me how the man looks who exacted this promise from you, and I will find him and take you to him. Then it is for you to do the rest. Thambitot approved of the proposition. I can see, Gorgor, that you have had a wise bird like Akka for a foster mother, the boy remarked. He gave a graphic description of Clement Larson, and added that he had heard at Skansen that the little fiddler was from Helsingland. We'll search for him through the hole of Helsingland, from Jungby to Melanshø, from Great Mountain to Hornland, said the eagle. Tomorrow, before sundown, you shall have a talk with the man. I fear you are promising more than you can perform, doubted the boy. I should be a mighty poor eagle if I couldn't do that much, said Gorgor. So, when Gorgor and Thambitot left Elbe-Collaby, they were good friends, and the boy willingly took his mount for a ride on the eagle's back. Thus he had an opportunity to see much of the country. When clutched in the eagle's taloons, he had seen nothing. Perhaps it was just as well, for in the forenoon he had travelled over Uppsala, Österby's big factories, the Danamura mine, and the ancient castle of Urbyhus, and he would have been sadly disappointed at not seeing them had he known of their proximity. The eagle bore him speedily over Jesterkland, in the southern part of the province, there was very little to tempt the eyes. But as they flew northward, it began to be interesting. This country's clad in a spruce skirt, and a grey stone jacket, thought the boy. But around its waist it wears a girdle, which has not its match in value, for it is embroidered with blue lakes and green grooves. The great ironworks adorn it like a row of precious stones, and its buckle is a whole city with castles and cathedrals, and great clusters of houses. When the travellers arrived in the northern forest region, Gorgor alighted on top of a mountain. As the boy dismounted, the eagle said, There is game in this forest, and I can't forget my late captivity and feel really free until I have gone hunting. You won't mind my leaving you for a while? No, of course I won't, the boy assured him. You may go where you like, if only you are back here by sundown, said the eagle, as he flew off. The boy sat on a stone gazing across the bare rocky ground, and the great forests round about. He felt rather lonely, but soon he heard singing in the forest below, and saw something bright moving amongst the trees. Presently he saw a blue and yellow banner, and he knew by the songs and the merry chatter that it was being born at the head of a procession. On it came up the winding path, he wondered where it and those who followed it were going. He couldn't believe that anybody would come up to such an ugly desolate waste as the place where he sat, but the banner was nearing the forest border, and behind it marched many happy people for whom it had led the way. Suddenly there was life and movement all over the mountain plain. After that there was so much for the boy to see that he didn't have a dull moment. Forest Day On the mountains broad back where Gorgo lived Thumbitot, there had been a forest fire ten years before. Since that time the charred trees had been felled and removed, and the great fire swept area had begun to deck itself with green along the edges, where it skirted the healthy forest. However, the larger part of the top was still barren and appallingly desolate. Charred stumps standing sent in a light between the rock ledges bore witness that once there had been a fine forest here, but no fresh roots sprang from the ground. One day in the early summer all the children in the parish had assembled in front of the schoolhouse near the fire swept mountain. Each child carried either a spade or a hoe on its shoulder and a basket of food in its hand. As soon as all were assembled they marched in a long procession toward the forest. The banner came first with the teachers on either side of it, then followed a couple of foresters and a wagon load of pine shrubs and spruce seeds, then the children. The procession did not pause in any of the birch groves near the settlements, but marched on deep into the forest. As it moved along, the foxes stuck their heads out of their lairs in astonishment and wonder what kind of backwards people these were. As they march past old coal pits where charcoal kilns were fired every autumn, the crossbeaks twisted their hoop bills and asked one another what kind of collars these might be who were now thronging the forest. Finally the procession reached the big burnt mountain plain. The rocks had been stripped of the fine twin flower creepers that once covered them. They had been robbed of the pretty silver moss and the attractive reindeer moss. Around the dark water gathered in clefts and hollows, there was now no wood sorrow. The little patches of soil in crevices and between stones were without ferns, without starflowers, without all the green and red and light and soft and soothing things which usually clothed the forest ground. It was as if a bright light flashed upon the mountains when all the perished children covered it. Here again was something sweet and delicate, something fresh and rosy, something young and growing. Perhaps these children would bring to the poor abundant forest a little new life. When the children had rested and eaten their luncheon, they seized hosts and spades and began to work. The foresters showed them what to do. They set out shrub after shrub on every clear spot of earth they could find. As they worked, they talked quite knowingly among themselves of how the little shrubs they were planting would bind the soil so that it could not get away and of how new soil would form under the trees. Buy and buy seeds would drop, and in a few years they would be picking both strawberries and raspberries, where now there were only bare rocks. The little shrubs which they were planting would gradually become tall trees, perhaps big houses and great splendid ships would be built from them. If the children had not come here and planted while there was still a little soil in the cliffs, all the earth would have been carried away by wind and water, and the mountain could never more have been clothed in green. It was well that we came, said the children. We were just in the nick of time. They felt very important. While they were working on the mountain, their parents were at home. Buy and buy they began to wonder how the children were getting along. Of course, it was only a joke about their planting a forest, but it might be amusing to see what they were trying to do. So presently both fathers and mothers were on their way to the forest. When they came to the outlying stock farms, they met some of their neighbors. Are you going to the fire-swept mountain? they asked. That's what we're bound for. To have a look at the children? Yes, to see what they're up to. It's only play, of course. It isn't likely that there will be many forestries planted by the youngsters. We have brought the coffee pot along so that we can have something warm to drink, since we must stay there all day with only lunch basket provisions. So the parents of the children went on up the mountain. At first they thought only of how pretty it looked to see all the rosy cheek little children scattered over the gray hills. Later, they observed how the children were working, how some were setting out shrubs while others were digging furrows and sowing seeds. Others again were pulling up heather to prevent choking their young trees. They saw that the children took the work seriously and were so intent upon what they were doing that they scarcely had time to glance up. The fathers and mothers stood for a moment and looked on. Then they too began to pull up heather, just for the fun of it. The children were the instructors, for they were already trained and had to show their elders what to do. Thus it happened that all the grown-ups who had come to watch the children took part in the work. Then, of course, it became greater fun than before. By and by the children had even more help. Other implements were needed, so a couple of long leg boys were sent down to the village for spades and hose. As they ran past the cabins, the state homes came out and asked, what's wrong? Has there been an accident? No, indeed, but the whole parishes up on the fire-sweet mountain planting a forest. If the whole parish is there, we can't stay at home. So party after party of peasants went crowding to the top of the burnt mountain. They stood a moment and looked on. The temptation to join the workers was irresistible. It's a pleasure to sow one's own acres in the spring and to think of the grain that will spring up from the earth, but this work is even more alluring, they thought. Not only slender blades would come from that sowing, but mighty trees with tall trunks and sturdy branches. It meant giving birth not merely to a summer's grain, but to many years' grows. It meant the awakening hum of insects, the song of the thrush, the play of grouse, and all kinds of life on the desolate mountain. Moreover, it was like raising a memorial for coming generations. They could have left a bare treeless height as a heritage. Instead, they were to leave a glorious forest. Coming generations would know their forefathers had been a good and wise foe, and they would remember them with reverence and gratitude. End of On Over Gesture Kland Read by Lars Rolander Section 33 of The Wonderful Adventures of Nils This is a LibriVox recording, or 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 Lagerlööf Translated by Velma Swonston-Howard A Day in Helsingland A Large Green Leaf Thursday, June 16th The following day, the boy travelled over Helsingland. It spread beneath him with new pale green shots on the pine trees, new birch leaves in the groves, new green grass in the meadows, and sprouting rain in the fields. It was a mountainous country, but directly through it ran a broad light valley from either side of which branched other valleys, some short and narrow, some broad and long. This land resembles a leaf, thought the boy, for it's as green as a leaf, and the valleys subdivided in about the same way as the veins of a leaf are foleyated. The branched valleys, like the main one, were filled with lakes, rivers, farms and villages. They snuggled light and smiling between the dark mountains until they were gradually squeezed together by the hills. There they were so narrow that they could not hold more than a little brook. On the high land between the valleys there were pine forests which had no even ground to grow upon. There were mountains standing all about, and the forest covered the hole like a woolly hide stretched over a bony body. It was a picturesque country to look down upon, and the boy saw a good deal of it, because the eagle was trying to find the old fiddler Clement Larson, and flew from ravine to ravine looking for him. A little later in the morning there was life and movement on every farm. The doors of the cattle sheds were thrown wide open, and the cows were let out. They were prettily colored, small, supple and sprightly, and so sure-footed that they made the most comic leaps and bounds. After them came the calves and sheep, and it was plainly to be seen that they too were in the best of spirits. It grew livelier every moment in the farm yards. A couple of young girls with knapsacks on their backs walked among the cattle. A boy with a long switch kept the sheep together, and a little dog ran in and out among the cows, barking at the ones that tried to gore him. The farmer hitched a horse to cart, loaded with tubs of butter, boxes of cheese, and all kinds of eatables. The people laughed and chattered. They and the beasts were alike merry, as if looking forward to a day of real pleasure. A moment later all were on their way to the forest. One of the girls walked in the lead and coaxed the cattle with pretty musical calls. The animals followed in a long line. The shepherd boy and the sheep dog ran hither and thither to see that no creature turned from the right course, and last came the farmer and his hired man. They walked beside the cart to prevent its being upset. For the road they followed was a narrow, stony forest path. It may have been the custom for all the peasants in Helsingland to send their cattle into the forests on the same day, or perhaps it only happened so that year. At any rate the boy saw how processions of happy people and cattle wandered out from every valley and every farm, and rushed into the lonely forest, filling it with life. From the depths of the dense woods the boy heard the shepherd maiden's songs and the tinkle of the cowbells. Many of the processions had long and difficult roads to travel, and the boy saw how they tramped through marches, how they had to take roundabout ways to get past windfalls, and how time and again the carts bumped against stones and turned over with all their contents. But the people met all the obstacles with jokes and laughter. In the afternoon they came to a cleared space, where cattle shreds and a couple of rude cabins had been built. The cows moved with delight as they tramped on the luscious green grass in the yards between the cabins, and at once began grazing. The peasants, with merry chatter and banter, carried water and wood and all that had been brought in the carts into the larger cabin. Presently smoke rose from the chimney, and then the dairymaids, the shepherd boy, and the men, squatted upon a flat rock and ate their supper. Gorgor the eagle was certain that he should find Clement Larson among those who were off for the forest. Whenever he saw a stock farm procession, he sank down and scrutinized it with his sharp eyes, but hour after hour passed without his finding the one he sought. After much circling around, toward evening they came to a stony and desolate track east of the great main valley. There the boy saw another outlying stock farm under him. The people and the cattle had arrived, the men were splitting wood, and the dairymaids were milking the cows. Look there, said Gorgor, I think we've got him. He sank, and to his greatest astonishment the boy saw that the eagle was right. There indeed stood little Clement Larson, chopping wood. Gorgor alighted on a pine tree in the thick woods a little away from the house. I have fulfilled my obligation, said the eagle, with a proud toss of his head. Now you must try and have a word with the man. I perch here at the top of the thick pine and wait for you. The animals knew Yersieve. The day's work was done at the forest branches. Supper was over, and the peasants sat about and chatted. It was a long time since they had been in the forest of a summer's night, and they seemed reluctant to go to bed and sleep. It was a slight astay, and the dairymaids were busy with their needlework. Ever and unknown they raised their heads, looked toward the forest, and smiled. Now we are here again, they said. The town with its unrest faded from their minds, and the forest with its peaceful stillness enfolded them. When at home they had wondered how they should ever be able to endure the loneliness of the woods, but once there they felt that they were having their best time. Many of the young girls and young men from neighboring ranches had come to call upon them, so that there were quite a lot of forks seated on the grass before the cabins, but they did not find it easy to start conversation. The men were going home the next day, so the dairymaids gave them little commissions, and made them take greetings to their friends in the village. This was nearly all that had been said. Suddenly the eldest of the dairy girls looked up from her work and said, laughingly, There's no need for our sitting here so silent tonight, for we have two storytellers with us. One is Clement Larsson, who sits beside me, and the other is Bernard from Sunnacheu, who stands back there gazing towards Black's Ridge. I think that we should ask each of them to tell us a story. To the one who entertains us the better, I shall give them a prime knitting. This proposal won hearty applause. The two competitors offered lame excuses, naturally, but were quickly persuaded. Clement asked Bernard to begin, and he did not object. He knew little of Clement Larsson, but assured that he would come out with some story about ghosts and trolls, as he knew that people liked to listen to such things. He thought it best to choose something of the same sort. Some centuries ago, he began, a dean here in Dillspo Township was riding through the dense forest of a New Year's Eve. He was on horseback, dressed in fur coat and cap. On the pommel of his saddle hung a satchel, in which he kept the communion service, the prayer book, and the clerical robe. He had been summoned to a parochial errand, to a remote forest settlement, where he had talked with a sick person until late in the evening. Now he was on his way home, but feared that he should not get back to the rectory until after midnight. As he had to sit in the saddle, when he should have been at home in his bed, he was glad it was not a rough night. The weather was mild, the air still, and the skies overcast. Behind the clouds hung a full round moon which gave some light, although it was out of sight. But for that faint light it would have been impossible for him to distinguish paths from fields, for that was a snowless winter, and all things had the same grayish-brown color. The horse the dean rode was one he praised very highly. He was strong and sturdy and quite as wise as a human being. He could find his way home from any place in the town trip. The dean had observed this on several occasions, and he relied upon it with such a sense of security that he never troubled himself to think where he was going when he rode that horse. So he came along now in the gray night through the bewildering forest with the rains dangling and his thoughts far away. He was thinking of the sermon he had to preach on the morrow and of much else besides, and it was a long time before it occurred to him to notice how far along he was on his homeward way. When he did glance up he saw that the forest was as dense about him as at the beginning, and he was somewhat surprised, for he had ridden so long that he should have come to the inhabited portion of the town trip. Dielspo was about the same then as now. The church and parsonage and all the large farms and villages were at the northern end of the town trip, while at the southern part there were only forests and mountains. The dean saw that he was still in the unpopulated district and knew that he was in the southern part and must ride to the north to get home. There were no stars nor was there a moon to guide him, but he was a man who had the four cardinal points in his head. He had the positive feeling that he was traveling southward or possibly eastward. He intended to turn the horse at once, but hesitated. The animal had never strayed and did not seem likely that he would do so now. It was more likely that the dean was mistaken. He had been far away in thought and had not looked at the road. So he let the horse continue in the same direction and again lost himself in his reverie. Suddenly a big branch struck him and almost swept him off the horse. Then he realized that he must find out where he was. He glanced down and saw that he was riding over a soft marsh where there was no beaten path. The horse trotted along at a brisk pace and showed no uncertainty. Again the dean was positive that he was going in the wrong direction and now he did not hesitate to interfere. He ceased the reins and turned the horse about, guiding him back to the roadway. No sooner was he there than he turned again and made straight for the woods. The dean was certain that he was going wrong, but because the beast was so persistent he thought that probably he was trying to find a better road and let him go along. The horse did very well, although he had no path to follow. If a precipice obstructed his way, he climbed it as nimbly as a goat, and later, when they had to descend, he bunched his hooves and slid down the rocky inclines. May he only find his way home before church hour, thought the dean. I wonder how the deals for folk would take it if I were not at my church on time. He did not have to broad over this long, for soon he came to a place that was familiar to him. It was a little creek where he had fished the summer before. Now he saw it was as he feared. He was in the depths of the forest, and the horse was plodding along in a south-easterly direction. He seemed determined to carry the dean as far from church and rectory as he could. The clergyman dismounted. He could not let the horse carry him into the wilderness. He must go home. And since the animal persisted in going in the wrong direction, he decided to walk and lead him until they came to more familiar roads. The dean wound the reins around his arm and began to walk. It was not an easy matter to tramp through the forest in a heavy fur coat, but the dean was strong and hardy, and had little fear of overexertion. The horse, meanwhile, caused him fresh anxiety. He would not follow, but planted his hooves firmly on the ground. At last the dean was angry. He had never beaten that horse, nor did he wish to do so now. Instead he threw down the reins and walked away. We may as well part company here, since you want to go your own way, he said. He had not taken more than two steps before the horse came after him, took a cautious grip on his coat, sleeve, and stopped him. The dean turned and looked the horse straight in the eyes, as if to search out why he behaved so strangely. Afterwards the dean could not quite understand how this was possible, but it is certain that, dark as it was, he plainly saw the horse's face and read it like that of a human being. He realized that the animal was in a terrible state of apprehension and fear. He gave his master a look that was both imploring and reproachful. I have served you day after day and done your bidding, he seemed to say. Will you not follow me this one night? The dean was touched by the appeal in the animal's eyes. It was clear that the horse needed his help tonight, in one way or another. Being a man through and through, the dean promptly determined to follow him. Without further delay he sprang into the saddle. Go on, he said. I will not desert you since you want me. No one shall say of the dean in diaspora that he refused to accompany any creature who was in trouble. He let the horse go as he wished and thought only of keeping his seat. It proved to be a hazardous and troublesome journey uphill most of the way. The forest was so thick that he could not see two feet ahead, but it appeared to him that they were sending a high mountain. The horse climbed Perilla Steeps. Had the dean been guiding, he should not have thought of riding over such ground. Surely you don't intend to go up to Blackstrange, do you? Loved the dean, who knew that was one of the highest peaks in Helsingland. During the ride he discovered that he and the horse were not the only ones who were out that night. He heard stones roll down and branch his crackle, as if animals were breaking the way through the forest. He remembered that wolves were plentiful in that section, and wondered if the horse wished to lead him to an encounter with wild beasts. They mounted up and up, and the higher they went, the more scattered were the trees. At last they rode on almost bare highland, where the dean could look in every direction. He gazed out over immeasurable tracts of land, which went up and down in mountains and valleys covered with somber forests. It was so dark that he had difficulty in seeing any orderly arrangement, but presently he could make out where he was. Why, of course, it's Blackstrange that I've come to, he remarked to himself. It can't be any other mountain, for there in the west I see Jarm Island, and to the east the sea glitters around Ag Island. Toward the north also I see something shiny, it must be Dellen. In the depth below me I see white smoke from Neon Falls. Yes, I'm up on Blackstrange. What an adventure! When they were at the summit, the horse stopped behind a thick pine, as if to hide. The dean bent forward and pushed aside the branches, that he might have an unobstructed view. The mountain's bald plate confronted him. It was not empty and desolate as he had anticipated. In the middle of the open space was an immense boulder around which many wild beasts had gathered. Apparently they were holding a conclave of some sort. Near to the big rock is so bare, so firmly and heavily built that they seem like fur-clad blocks of stone. They were lying down, and their little eyes blinked impatiently. It was obvious that they had come from their winter sleep pretend court, and that they could hardly keep awake. Behind them, in tight rows, were hundreds of wolves. They were not sleepy, for wolves are more alert in winter than in summer. They sat upon their haunches like dogs, whipping the ground with their tails and panting, their tongues lolling far out of their jaws. Behind the walls, the lynx sculpt stiff-legged and clumsy, like mishapened cats. They were loath to be among the other beasts and hissed and spat when one came near them. The row back of the lynx was occupied by the wolverines, with dog faces and bear coats. They were not happy on the ground, and they stamped their pads impatiently, longing to get into the trees. Behind them, covering the entire space of the forest border, leaped the foxes, the weasels, and the martens. These were small and perfectly formed, but they looked even more savage and bloodthirsty than the larger beasts. All this the dean plainly saw, for the whole place was illuminated. Upon the huge rock at the center was the wood nymph, who held in her hand a pine torch, which burned in a big red flame. The nymph was as tall as the tallest tree in the forest. She wore a spruce brush mantle, and had spruce con hair. She stood very still. Her face turned toward the forest. She was watching and listening. The dean saw everything as plain as plain could be, but his astonishment was so great that he tried to combat it, and would not believe the evidence of his own eyes. Such things cannot possibly happen, he thought. I have ridden much too long in the bleak forest. This is only an optical illusion. Nevertheless, he gave the closest attention to the spectacle and wondered what was about to be done. He hadn't longed to wait before he caught the sound of a familiar bell coming from the depths of the forest, and the next moment he heard footfalls and crackling of branches as when many animals break through the forest. A big herd of cattle was climbing the mountain. They came through the forest in order in which they had marched to the mountain ranges. First came the bell cow, followed by the bull, then the other cows and the calves. The sheep closely herded followed. After them came the goats, and last were the horses and colts. The sheepdog trotted along beside the sheep, but neither shepherd nor shepherdess attended them. The dean thought it heart-rendering to see the tame animals coming straight toward the wildbeests. He would gladly have blocked their way and called halt, but he understood that it was not within human power to stop the march of the cattle on this night, therefore he made no move. The domestic animals were in a state of torment over that which they had to face. If it happened to be the bell cow's turn, she advanced with drooping head and faltering step. The goats had no desire either to play or to bat. The horses tried to bear up bravely, but their bodies were all of a quiver with fright. The most pathetic of all was the sheepdog. He kept his tail between his legs and crawled on the ground. The bell cow led the procession all the way up to the wood nooth, who stood on the boulder at the top of the mountain. The cow walked around the rock and then turned toward the forest without any of the wildbeests touching her. In the same way, all the cattle walked unmolested past the wildbeests. As the creatures filed past, the deans saw the wood nymph lower her pine torch over one and another of them. Every time this occurred, the beasts of prey broke into loud exultant roars, particularly when it was lowered over a cow or some other large creature. The animal that saw the torch turning toward it uttered a piercing shriek as if it had received a knife thrust in its flesh, while the entire herd to which it belonged bellowed their lamentations. Then the dean began to comprehend the meaning of what he saw. Surely he had heard that the animals in deals were assembled on Blackstridge every new year's eve, that the wood nymph might mark out which among the tame beasts would that year be prey for the wildbeests. The dean pitted the poor creatures that were at the mercy of savage beasts, when in reality they should have no master but man. The leading herd had only just left when another bell tinkled and the cattle from another farm trampled to the mountain top. These came in the same order as the first, and marched past the wood nymph who stood their stern and solemn, indicating animal after animal for death. Heard upon heard followed, without a break in the line of procession. Some were so small that they included only one cow and a few sheep. Others consisted of only a pair of goats. It was apparent that these were from very humble homes, but they too were compelled to pass in review. The dean thought of the deers' performers who had so much love for their beasts. Did they but know of it? Surely they would not allow a repetition of this, he thought. They would risk their own lives rather than let their cattle wander amongst bears and wolves to be doomed by the wood nymph. The last herd to appear was the one from the rectory farm. The dean heard the sound of the familiar bell a long way off. The horse too must have heard it, for he began to shake in every limb and was bathed in sweet. So, it is your turn now to pass before the wood nymph to receive your sentence, the dean said to the horse. Don't be afraid. Now I know why you brought me here and I shall not leave you. The fine cattle from the parsonage farm emerged from the forest and marched to the wood nymph and the wild beast. Last in the line was the horse that had brought his master to Blackstridge. The dean did not leave the saddle but let the animal take him to the wood nymph. He had neither knife nor gun for his defense, but he had taken out the prayer book and sat pressing it to his heart as he exposed himself to battle against evil. At first it appeared as if none had observed him. The dean's cattle filed past the wood nymph in the same order as the others had done. She did not wave the torch toward any of these, but as soon as the intelligent horse stepped forward, she made a movement to mark him for death. Instantly the dean held up the prayer book and the torchlight fell upon the cross on its cover. The wood nymph uttered a loud shrill cry and let the torch drop from her hand. Immediately the flame was extinguished. In the sudden transition from light to darkness, the dean saw nothing, nor did he hear anything. About him reigned the profound stillness of a wilderness in winter. Then the dark clouds parted and through the opening stepped the full round moon to shed its light upon the ground. The dean saw that he and the horse were alone on the summit of Blackstridge. Not one of the many wild beasts was there. The ground had not been trampled by the herds that had passed over it, but the dean himself sat with his prayer book before him while the horse under him stood trembling and foaming. By the time the dean reached home, he no longer knew whether or not it had been a dream, a vision, or reality, this that he had seen. But he took it as a warning to him to remember the poor creatures who were at the mercy of wild beasts. He preached so powerfully to the deers' perpessants that in his day all the wolves and bears were exterminated from that section of the country, although they may have returned since his time. Here Bernard ended his story. He received praise from all sides, and it seemed to be a foregone conclusion that he would get the prize. The majority thought it almost a pity that Clement had to compete with him. But Clement, undaunted, began. One day, while I was living at Skansen just outside of Stockholm and longing for home, then he told about the tiny midget he had ransomed so that he would not have to be confined in a cage to be stared at by all the people. He told also that no sooner had he performed this act of mercy than he was rewarded for it. He talked and talked, and the astonishment of his hearers grew greater and greater. But when he came to the Royal Lackey and the beautiful book, all the daremades dropped their needlework and sat staring at Clement in open-eyed wonder at his marvellous experiences. As soon as Clement had finished, the eldest of the daremades announced that he should have the muffler. Bernard related only things that happened to another, but Clement has himself been the hero of a true story, which I consider far more important. In this all concurred, they regarded Clement with very different eyes after hearing that he had talked with the King, and the little fiddler was afraid to show how proud he felt. But at the very height of his elation, someone asked him what had become of the midget. I had no time to set out the blue bowl for him myself, said Clement, so I asked the old lap-lander to do it. What has become of him since then? I don't know. No sooner had he spoken than a little pinecone came along and struck him on the nose. He did not drop from a tree, and none of the peasants had thrown it. It was simply impossible to tell whence it had come. Ah-ha! Clement winked the daremade. It appears as if the tiny fork were listening to us. You should not have left it to another to set out that blue bowl. End of A Day in Helsingland Read by Lars Rolander Section 34 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 Logelow Translated by Velma Swonston-Howard In Medelpod Friday, June 17th The boy and the eagle were out bright and early the next morning. Gorgor hoped that he would get far up into West Botnia that day. As luck would have it, he heard the boy remark to himself that in a country like the one through which they were now traveling, it must be impossible for people to live. The land which spread below them was a southern medelpod. When the eagle heard the boy's remark, he replied, Up here they have forests for fields. The boy thought of the contrast between the light golden rye fields with their delicate blades that spring up in one summer and the dark spruce forest with its solid trees, which took many years to ripen for harvest. One who has to get his livelihood from such a field must have a deal of patience, he observed. Nothing more was said until they came to a place where the forest had been cleared and the ground was covered with stumps and locked off branches. As they flew over this ground, the eagle heard the boy mutter to himself. That it was a mighty, ugly, and poverty-stricken place. This field was cleared last winter, said the eagle. The boy thought of the harvesters at home who rode on their reaping machines on fine summer mornings and in a short time moved a large field, but the forest field was harvested in winter. The lumbermen went out in the wilderness when the snow was deep and the cold most severe. It was a tedious work to fell even one tree, and to you down a forest such as this, they must have been out in the open many weeks. They have to be hardy men to move a field of this kind, he said. When the eagle had taken two more wing strokes, they sighted a log cabin at the edge of the clearing. It had no windows and only two loose boards for a door. The roof had been covered with bark and twigs, but now it was gaping, and the boy could see that inside the cabin there were only a few big stones to serve as a fireplace and two board benches. When they were above the cabin, the eagle suspected that the boy was wondering who could have lived in such a wretched hut as that. The reapers who moved the forest field lived there, the eagle said. The boy remembered how the reapers in his home had returned from their day's work cheerful and happy, and how the best his mother had in the larder was always spread for them, while here at the arduous work of the day they must rest on hard benches in a cabin that was worse than an outhouse, and what they had to eat he could not imagine. I wonder if there are any harvest festivals for these leavers, he questioned. A little farther on they saw below them a wretchedly bad road winding through the forest. It was narrow and zigzag, hilly and stony, and cut up by brooks in many places. As they flew over it, the eagle knew that the boy was wondering what was carted over a road like that. Over this road the harvest was conveyed to the stack, the eagle said. The boy recalled what fun they had at home when the harvest wagons drawn by two sturdy horses carried the grain from the field. The man who drove sat proudly on top of the load, the horses danced and pricked up their ears, while the village children who were allowed to climb upon the sheaves sat there laughing and shrieking, half pleased, half frightened. But here the great logs were drawn up and down steep hills, here the poor horses must be worked to their limit, and the driver must often be in peril. I am afraid there has been very little cheer along this road, the boy observed. The eagle flew on with powerful wind strokes, and soon they came to a river bank covered with logs, chips and bark. The eagle perceived that the boy wondered why it looked so littered up down there. Here the harvest has been stacked, the eagle told him. The boy thought of how the grain stacks in his part of the country were piled up close to the farms, as if they were their greatest ornaments, while here the harvest was borne to a desolate river strand and left there. I wonder if anyone out in this wilderness counts his stacks and compares them with his neighbors, he said. A little later they came to Jungen, a river which glides through a broad valley. Immediately everything was so changed that they might well think they had come to another country. The dark spruce forest had stopped on the inclines above the valley, and the slopes were clad in light stemmed birches and aspens. The valley was so broad that in many places the river widened into lakes. Along the shores lay a large flourishing town. As they soared above the valley, the eagle realized that the boy was wondering if the fields and meadows here could provide a livelihood for so many people. Here live the reapers who move the forest fields, the eagle said. The boy was thinking of the lowly cabins and the hedged-in farms down in Skorne, when he explained, why here the peasants live in real manners? It looks as if it might be worth once while to work in the forest. The eagle had intended to travel straight north, but when he had flown out over the river, he understood that the boy wondered who handled the timber after it was stacked on the riverbank. The boy recollected how careful they had been at home never to let a grain be wasted, while here were great draughts of logs floating down the river, uncared for. He could not believe that more than half of the logs ever reached their destination. Many were floating in midstream, and for them all went smoothly. Others moved close to the shore, bumping against points of land, and some were left behind in the still waters of the creeks. On the lakes there were so many logs that they covered the entire surface of the water. These appeared to be lodged for an indefinite period. At the bridges they stuck, in the falls they were bunched, then they were pyramided and broken in two. Afterward, in the rapids they were blocked by the stones and massed into great heaps. I wonder how long it takes for the logs to get to the mill, said the boy. The eagle continued his slow flight down River Jungen. Over many places he paused in the air on outspread wings, that the boy might see how this kind of harvest work was done. Presently they came to a place where the loggers were at work. The eagle marked that the boy wondered what they were doing. They are the ones who take care of all the belated harvest, the eagle said. The boy remembered the perfect ease with which his people at home had driven their grain to the mill. Here the men ran alongside the shores with long boat hooks and with toil and effort urged the logs along. They waded out into the river and were soaked from top to toe. They jumped from stone to stone far out into the rapids, and they tramped on the rolling log heaps as calmly as though they were on flat ground. They were daring and resolute men. As I watch this, I am reminded of the iron molders in the mining districts who juggle with fire as if it were perfectly harmless, remarked the boy. These loggers play with water as if they were its masters. They seem to have subjugated it so that it dare not harm them. Gradually they neared the mouth of the river and Botnia Bay was beyond them. Gorgor flew no farther straight ahead, but went northward along the coast. Before they had traveled very far, they saw a lumber camp as large as a small city. While the eagle circled back and forth above it, he heard the boy remark that this place looked interesting. Here you have the great lumber camp called Svartvik, the eagle said. The boy thought of the mill at home, which stood peacefully embedded in foliage and moved its wings very slowly. This mill where they grinned the forest harvest stood on the water. The mill pond was crowded with logs. One by one, the helper seized them with their cantucks, crowded them into the chutes, and hurried them along to the whirling source. What happened to the logs inside the boy could not see, but he heard loud buzzing and roaring, and from the other end of the house small cars ran out, loaded with white planks. The cars ran on shining tracks down to the lumber yard, where the planks were piled in rows, forming streets like blocks of houses in a city. In one place they were building new piles, in another they were pulling down old ones. These were carried aboard two large vessels, which lay waiting for cargo. The place was alive with workmen, and in the woods back of the yard they had their homes. They soon managed to sew up all the forests in Middlepod the way they work here, said the boy. The eagle moved his wings just a little, and carried the boy above another large camp, very much like the first, with the mill, yard, wharf, and the homes of the workmen. This is called Kukik and Bori, the eagle said. He flapped his wings slowly, flew past two big lumber camps, and approached a large city. When the eagle heard the boy ask the name of it, he cried, This is Sundsvall, the manor of the lumber districts. The boy remembered the cities of Skåne, which looked so old and gray and solemn, while here in the bleak north the city of Sundsvall faced a beautiful bay, and looked young and happy and beaming. There was something odd about the city, when one saw it from above, for in the middles to the cluster of tall stone structures, which looked so imposing that their match was hardly to be found in Stockholm. Around the stone buildings there was a large open space. Then came a wreath of frame houses which looked pretty and cozy in their little gardens, but they seemed to be conscious of the fact that they were very much poorer than the stone houses and dared not venture into their neighborhood. This must both be a wealthy and powerful city, remarked the boy. Can it be possible that the poor forest soil is the source of all this? The eagle flapped his wings again and went over to Aln Island, which lies opposite Sundsvall. The boy was greatly surprised to see all the sawmills that decked the shores. On Aln Island they stood one next to another, and on the mainline opposite were mill upon mill, lumberyard upon lumberyard. He counted forty at least, but believed there were many more. How wonderful it all looks from up here, he marveled. So much life and activity I have not seen in any place save this on the whole trip. It is a great country that we have, wherever I go there is always something new for people to live upon. End of In Medelpad, read by Lars Rolando. Section 35 of The Wonderful Adventures of Mills 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 Rolando. The Wonderful Adventures of Mills by Selma Lagerlöf Translated by Belma Swanston Howard A Morning in Ongermanland The Bread Saturday June 18th Next morning when the eagle had flown some distance into Ongermanland, he remarked that today he was the one who was hungry and must find something to eat. He set the boy down in an enormous pine on a high mountain ridge and away he flew. The boy found a comfortable seat in a cleft branch from which he could look down over Ongermanland. It was a glorious morning. The sunshine gilded the treetops, a soft breeze played in the pine needles, the sweetest fragrance was wafted through the forest, a beautiful landscape spread before him, and the boy himself was happy and carefree. He felt that no one could be better off. He had a perfect outlook in every direction. The country west of him was all peaks and table land, and the farther away they were the higher and wilder they looked. To the east there were also many peaks, but these sank lower and lower toward the sea, where the land became perfectly flat. Everywhere he saw shining rivers and brooks, which were having a troublesome journey with rapids and falls so long as they ran between mountains, but spread out clear and broad as they neared the shore of the coast. Botnia Bay was dotted with islands and notched with points, but farther out was open blue water like a summer sky. When the boy had had enough of the landscape, he unloosened his knapsack, took out a morsel of fine white bread, and began to eat. I don't think I've ever tasted such a good bread, said he, and how much I have left. There's enough to last me for a couple of days. As he munched, he thought of how he had come by the bread. It must be because I got it in such a nice way that it tastes so good to me, he said. The golden eagle had left Middlepod the evening before. He had hardly crossed the border into Ongermanland, when the boy caught a glimpse of a fertile valley and a river, which surpassed anything of the kind he had seen before. As the boy glanced down at the rich valley, he complained of feeling hungry. He had had no food for two whole days, he said, and now he was famished. Gorgor did not wish to have it said that the boy had fed worse in his company than when he travelled with the wildkeys, so he slackened his speed. Why haven't you spoken of this before? he asked. You should have all the food you want. There is no need of your starving when you have an eagle for a travelling companion. Just then the eagle sighted a farmer who was sowing a field near the river strand. The man carried the seeds in a basket, suspended from his neck, and each time that it was emptied, he refilled it from a seed sack which stood at the end of the furrow. The eagle recently touted that the sack must be filled with the best food that the boy could wish for, so he darted toward it. But before the bird could get there, a terrible clamor arose about him. Sparrows, crows, and swallows came rushing up with wild shrieks, thinking that the eagle meant to swoop down upon some bird. Away, away, robber, away, away, bird killer! they cried. They made such a racket that it attracted the farmer who came running so that the Gorgor had to flee and the boy got no seed. The small birds behaved in the most extraordinary manner. Not only did they force the eagle to flee, they pursued him a long distance down the valley, and everywhere the people heard their cries. Women came out and clapped their hands, so that it sounded like a volley of musketry, and men rushed out with rifles. The same thing was repeated every time the eagle swept toward the ground. The boy abandoned the hope that the eagle could procure any food for him. It had never occurred to him before that Gorgor was so much hated, he almost pitted him. In a little while they came to Homestead, where the housewife had just been baking. She had set a platter of sugared buns in the backyard to cool, and was standing beside it, watching so that the cat and dog should not steal the buns. The eagle circled down to the yard, but had not a light right under the eyes of the peasant woman. He flew up and down irresolute. Twice he came down as far as the chimney, then rose again. The peasant woman noticed the eagle. She raised her head and followed him with her glance. How peculiarly he acts, she remarked. I believe he wants one of my buns. She was a beautiful woman, tall and fair, with a cheery open countenance, laughing heartily. She took a bun from the platter and held it above her head. If you want it, come and take it, she challenged. While the eagle did not understand her language, he knew at once that she was offering him the bun. With lightning speed, he swooped to the bread, snatched it, and flew toward the heights. When the boy saw the eagle snatch the bread, he wept for joy, not because he would escape suffering hunger for a few days, but because he was touched by the peasant woman sharing her bread with a savage bird of prey. Where he now sat on the pine branch, he could recall at will the tall, fair woman, as she stood in the yard and held up the bread. She must have known that the large bird was a golden eagle, a plunderer, who was usually welcomed with loud shots. Doubtless, she had also seen the queer changeling he bore on his back, but she had not thought of what they were. As soon as she understood that they were hungry, she shared her good bread with them. If I ever become human again, thought the boy, I shall look up the pretty woman, who lives near the great river, and thank her for her kindness to us. The Forest Fire While the boy was still at his breakfast, he smelled a faint odor of smoke coming from the north. He turned and saw a tiny spiral, white as a mist, rise from a forest ridge, not from the one nearest him, but from the one beyond it. It looked strange to see smoke in the wild forest, but it might be that a mountain stock farm lay over yonder, and the women were boiling their morning coffee. It was remarkable the way that smoke increased and spread. It could not come from a ranch, but perhaps there were charcoal kilns in the forest. The smoke increased every moment. Now it curled over the whole mountain top. It was not possible that so much smoke could come from a charcoal kiln. There must be a conflagration of some sort. For many birds flew over to the nearest ridge, hawks, grouse, and other birds, who were so small that it was impossible to recognize them at such distance, fled from the fire. The tiny white spiral of smoke grew to a thick white cloud, which rolled over the edge of the ridge and sang toward the valley. Sparks and flakes of soot shot up from the clouds, and here and there one could see a red flame in the smoke. A big fire was raging over there, but what was burning? Surely there was no large farm hidden in the forest. The source of such a fire must be more than a farm. Now the smoke came not only from the ridge, but from the valley below it, which the boy could not see, because the next ridge obstructed his view. Great clouds of smoke ascended. The forest itself was burning. It was difficult for him to grasp the idea that the fresh green pines could burn. If it really were the forest that was burning, perhaps the fire might spread all the way over to him. It seemed improbable, but he wished the eagle would soon return. It would be best to be away from this. The mere smell of the smoke which he drew in with every breath was a torture. All at once he heard a terrible crackling and sputtering. It came from the ridge nearest him. There, on the highest point, stood a tall pine, like the one in which he sat. A moment before it had been a gorgeous red in the morning light. Now all the needles flashed, and the pine caught fire. Never before had it looked so beautiful, but this was the last time it could exhibit any beauty, for the pine was the first tree on the ridge to burn. It was impossible to tell how the flame had reached it. Had the fire flown on red wings or crawled along the ground like a snake? It was not easy to say, but there it was at all events. The great pine burned like a birch stem. Ah, look! Now smoke curled up in many places on the ridge. The forest fire was both bird and snake. It could fly in the air over wide stretches, or steal along the ground. The whole ridge was ablaze. There was a hasty flight of birch that circled up through the smoke like big flakes of soot. They flew across the valley and came to the ridge where the boy sat. A horned owl perched beside him, and on a branch just above him a hen hawk alighted. These would have been dangerous neighbors at any other time, but now they did not even glance in his direction, only stared at the fire. Probably they could not make out what was wrong with the forest. A martin ran up the pine to the tip of a branch and looked at the burning heights, close beside the martin sat a squirrel, but they did not appear to notice each other. Now the fire came rushing down the slope, hissing and roaring like a tornado. Through the smoke one could see the flames dart from tree to tree. Before a branch caught fire, it was first enveloped in a thin veil of smoke. Then all the needles grew red at one time, and it began to crackle and blaze. In the glen below ran a little brook bordered by elms and small birches. It appeared as if the flames would halt there. Leafy trees are not so ready to take fire as fir trees. The fire did pause as if before a gate that could stop it. It glowed and crackled and tried to leap across the brook to the pine woods on the other side, but could not reach them. For a short time the fire was thus restrained. Then it shot a long flame over to the large dry pine that stood on the slope, and this was sooner blaze. The fire had crossed the brook. The heat was so intense that every tree on the mountain was ready to burn. With the roar and rush of the maddest storm and the wildest torrent, the forest fire flew over to the ridge. Then the hawk and the owl rose, and the martin dashed down the tree. In a few seconds more the fire would reach the top of the pine, and the boy too would have to be moving. It was not easy to slide down the long straight pine trunk. He took as firm a hold of it as he could, and slid in long stretches between the knotty branches. Finally he tumbled headlong to the ground. He had no time to find out if he was hurt, only to hurry away. The fire raced down the pine like a raging tempest. The ground under his feet was hot and smoldering. On either side of him ran a lynx and an adder, and right beside the snake fluttered a mother grouse, who was hurrying along with her little downy cheeks. When the refugees descended the mountain to the glen, they met people fighting the fire. They had been there for some time, but the boy had been gazing so intently in the direction of the fire that he had not noticed them before. In this glen there was a brook bordered by a row of leaf trees, and back of these trees the people worked. They felled the fir trees nearest the elms, dipped water from the brook, and poured it over the ground, washing away heather and myrtle to prevent the fire from stealing up to the birch brush. They too thought only of the fire which was now rushing toward them. The fleeing animals ran in and out among the men's feet without attracting attention. No one struck at the adder or tried to catch the mother grouse, as she ran back and forth with her little peeping birdlings. They did not even bother about thumb be taught. In their hands they held great charred pine branches which had dropped into the brook, and it appeared as if they intended to challenge the fire with these weapons. There were not many men, and it was strange to see them stand there ready to fight when all other living creatures were fleeing. As the fire came roaring and rushing down the slope, with its intolerable heat and suffocating smoke, ready to hurl itself over brook and leaf tree wall in order to reach the opposite shore, without having to pause. The people drew back at first as if unable to withstand it, but they did not flee far before they turned back. The conflagration raged with savage force, sparks poured like a rain of fire over the leaf trees, and long tongues of flame shot hissingly out from the smoke, as if the forest on the other side were sucking the main. But the leaf tree wall was an obstruction behind which the men worked. When the ground began to smolder, they brought water in their vessels and dampened it. When the tree became red in smoke, they felled it at once, threw it down and put out the flames. Where the fire crept along the heather, they beat it with the wet pine branches and smothered it. The smoke was so dense that it enveloped everything. One could not possibly see how the battle was going, but it was easy enough to understand that it was a hard fight, and that several times the fire came near penetrating farther. But think! After a while the loud roar of the flames decreased, and the smoke cleared. By that time the leaf trees had lost all their foliage, the ground under them was charred, the face of the men were blackened by smoke and dripping with sweat. But the forest fire was conquered. It had ceased to flame up, soft white smoke crept along the ground, and from it peeped out a lot of black stumps. This was all that was left of the beautiful forest. The boys scrambled up on a rock, so that he might see how the fire had been quenched. But now that the forest was saved, his peril began. The owl and the hawk simultaneously turned their eyes toward him. Just then he heard a familiar voice calling to him. Gorgo, the golden eagle, came sweeping through the forest, and soon the boy was soaring among the clouds, rescued from every peril. End of A Morning in Unger Mannland Read by Lars Rolander Section 36 of The Wonderful Adventures of Nils This is a LibriVox recording, or 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 Lagerlööf Translated by Velma Svonston-Howard West Bottom and Lapland The Five Scouts Once at Skansen, the boy had sat under the steps at Bollene Skottage, and had overheard Clement Larsson and the old Laplander talk about Norland. Both agreed that it was the most beautiful part of Sweden. Clement thought that the southern part was the best, while the Laplander favoured the northern part. As they argued, it became plain that Clement had never been farther north than Hönösand. The Laplander laughed at him for speaking with such assurance of places that he had never seen. I think I shall have to tell you a story, Clement, to give you some idea of Lapland, since you have not seen it, volunteered the Laplander. It shall not be said of me that I refuse to listen to a story, retorted Clement, and the old Laplander began. It once happened that the birds who lived down in Sweden south of the Great Somaland thought that they were overcrowded there, and suggested moving northward. They came together to consider the matter. The young and eager birds wished to start at once, but the older and wiser ones passed a resolution to send scouts to explore the new country. Let each of the five great bird families send out a scout, said the old wise birds, to learn if there is room for us all up there, food and hiding places. Five intelligent and capable birds were immediately appointed by the five great bird families. The forest birds selected a grouse, the field birds a lark, the sea birds a gull, the freshwater birds a loon, and the cliff birds a snow sparrow. When the five chosen ones were ready to start, the grouse, who was the largest and most commanding, said, There are great stretches of land ahead. If we travel together, it will be long before we cover all the territory that we must explore. If, on the other hand, we travel singly, each one exploring his special portion of the country, the whole business can be accomplished in a few days. The other scouts thought the suggestion a good one, and agreed to act upon it. It was decided that the grouse should explore the midlands. The lark was to travel to the eastward. The sea gulls still farther east, where the land bordered on the sea, while the loon should fly over the territory west of the midlands, and the snow sparrow to the extreme west. In accordance with this plan, the five birds flew over the whole north land. Then they turned back and told the assembly of birds what they had discovered. The gull, who had travelled along the sea coast, spoke first. The north is a fine country, he said. The sounds are full of fish, and there are points and islands without number. Most of these are uninhabited, and the birds will find plenty of room there. The humans do a little fishing and sailing in the sounds, but not enough to disturb the birds. If the seabirds follow my advice, they will move north immediately. When the gull had finished, the lark, who had explored the land back from the coast, spoke. I don't know what the gull means by his islands and points, said the lark. I have travelled only over great fields and flowery meadows. I have never before seen a country crossed by some large streams. The shores are dotted with homesteads, and at the mouth of the rivers are cities, but for the most part the country's very desolate. If the field birds follow my advice, they will move north immediately. After the lark came the grouse, who had flown over the midlands. Ah, no, neither what the lark means with his meadows, nor the gull with his islands and points, said he. I have seen only pine forests on this whole trip. There are also many rushing streams and great stretches of moss-grown swampland, but all that is not river or swamp is forest. If the forest birds follow my advice, they will move north immediately. After the grouse came the loom, who had explored the borderland to the west. I don't know what the grouse means by his forest, nor do I know where the eyes of the lark and the gull could have been. Remark the loom. There's hardly any land up there, only big lakes, between beautiful shores, gliss and clear blue mountain lakes, which pour into roaring waterfalls. If the freshwater birds follow my advice, they will move north immediately. The last beaker was the snow sparrow, who had flown along the western boundary. I don't know what the loom means by his legs, nor do I know what countries the grouse, the lark and the gull can have seen. He said, I found one vast mountainous region up north. I didn't run across any fields or any pine forests, but peak after peak and the highlands. I have seen ice fields and snow and mountain brooks, with water as white as milk. No farmers, no cattle, no homesteads have I seen, but only laps and reindeer and huts meet my eyes. If the cliff-birds follow my advice, they will move north immediately. When the five scouts had presented their reports to the assembly, they began to call one another liars, and were ready to fly at each other to prove the truth of their arguments. But the old and wise birds who had sent them out listened to their accounts with joy, and calmed their fighting propensities. You mustn't quarrel among yourselves, they said. We understand from your reports that up north there are large mountain tracts, a big lake region, great forest lands, a wide plain, and a big group of islands. This is more than we have expected, more than many a mighty kingdom can boast within its borders. The Moving Landscape Saturday, June 18 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 west-bottom, and that the blue ridges far to the west were in Lapland, only to be once more seated comfortably on Gorgor'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 whether 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 Gorgor. It could not move from the spot. The locomotives 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 this red flag, and moved slowly toward the train. When he waved his little flag, the locomotive belched even darker smoke pearls 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 traveling 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 Kålmorden 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 small unpessants. They would hurry away from their meager 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 crane 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 boys' face. To all appearance, it had no notion of setting that night. If this light and this sun were only shining on West Bemmenhøg, it would suit the boys' father and mother to a dot to have a working day that lasted 24 hours. Sunday, June 19th. 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. Gorgor 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 West Bottom, he had fancied that the eagle'd and he were at a stand still 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 sparing him onward with terrific speed. Now we are flying into Lapland, Gorgor 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 a while. Gorgor had promptly swooped to the ground, where the boy had dropped down on a moustache. Then Gorgor put a taloon around him, and soared into the air with him again. Go to sleep, thumb be taught, he cried. The sunshine keeps me awake, and I want to continue the journey. Although the boy hung in this uncomfortable position, he actually dosed and dreamt. He dreamt 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 dry blades, blossoming cornflowers, and yellow daisies. Heavily laden apple trees were puffing along, followed by wine-covered beanstalks, big clusters of white daisies, and masses of berry bushes. Tall beaches and oaks and lindens strode leisurely in the middle of the road. Their branches swaying, and they stepped aside for numb. Between the boy's tiny feet darted the little flowers, wild strawberry blossoms, white anamones, 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 skites, others with axes, and others again with fishing nets. The procession marched with gladness and gaiety, 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 eudraes and a countenance beaming with merriment and kindliness. Forward march, it kept calling out, none needfully 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-beach tree stopped, and that the row-buck and the wheat-blade tarried by the wayside, likewise the black-purry 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 Svejaland. Up there the oak began to move more cautiously. It paused a while to consider, took a few faltering steps, then came to stand still. 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 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? Who he 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-store, the current 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. O seer-bushes and a lot of brushy vegetation joined the procession. Laps and reindeer, mountain owls, 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 towards 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 asser and gold-tinted. Onward, onward urged the sun as it climbed the steep cliffs. There is no danger as long as I am with you. But halfway 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 icy 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 which 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 walls. 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 Rabin. But where was Corgo? 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 Corgo, but this was as far as he got. He tore off his cap, waved it in the air, and cheered. Now he understood where Corgo had brought him. This was the very glen where the wild geese lived in summer, and just above it was the eagle's cliff. He had arrived. He would meet Morton Goosey Gander and Acca and all the other comrades in a few moments. Hooray! The meeting. All was still in the glen. The sun had not yet stepped above the cliffs, and Nils Holgersson knew that he was too early in the morning for the geese to be awake. The boy walked along leisurely and searched for his friends. Before he had gone very far, he paused with a smile, for he saw such a pretty sight. A wild goose was sleeping in a neat little nest, and beside her stood her goosey gander. He too slept, but it was obvious that he had stationed himself thus near her that he might be on hand in the possible event of danger. The boy went on without disturbing them, and peeped into the willow brush that covered the ground. It was not long before he spied another goose couple. These were strangers, not of his flock, but he was so happy that he began to hum, just because he had come across wild geese. He peeped into another bit of brushwood. There at last he saw two that were familiar. It was certainly Nellie that was nesting there, and the goosey gander who stood beside her was surely Kolme. Why, of course, the boy had a good mind to awaken them, but he let them sleep, and walked away. In the next brush he saw Visi and Kolse, and not far from them he found Ixi and Caxi. All four were asleep, and the boy passed by without disturbing them. As he approached the next brush, he thought he saw something white shimmering among the bushes, and the heart of him thumped with joy. Yes, it was as he expected. In there sat the dainted dunefin on an egg-filled nest. Beside her stood her white goosey gander. Although he slept it was easy to see how proud he was to watch over his wife up here among the Lapland mountains. The boy did not care to awaken the goosey gander, so he walked on. He had to seek a long time before he came across any more wild geese. Finally he saw on a little hillock something that resembled a small gray moss tuft, and he knew that there was Akka from Kevnekaise. She stood wide awake, looking about as if she were keeping watch over the whole glen. Good morning, Mother Akka, said the boy. Please don't awaken the other geese yet a while, for I wish to speak with you in private. The old leader goose came rushing down the hill and up to the boy. First she ceased hold of him and shook him. Then she stroked him with her bill before she shook him again, but she did not say a word since he asked her not to awaken the others. Thambitot Keese told Mother Akka on both cheeks. Then he told her how he had been carried off to Skansen and held captive there. Now, I must tell you that Smirre Fox, short of an ear, sat imprisoned in the Fox's cage at Skansen, said the boy. Although he was very mean to us, I couldn't help feeling sorry for him. There were many other foxes in the cage, and they seemed quite contended there, but Smirre sat all the while looking dejected, longing for liberty. I made many good friends at Skansen, and I learned one day from the lap dog that a man had come to Skansen to buy foxes. He was from some island far out in the ocean. All the foxes had been exterminated there, and the rats were about to get the better of the inhabitants, so they wished the foxes back again. As soon as I learned of this, I went to Smirre's cage and said to him, Tomorrow, some men are coming here to get a pair of foxes. Don't hide Smirre, but keep well in the foreground and see to it that you are chosen. Then you'll be free again. He followed my suggestion, and now he is running at large on the island. What say you to this, Madraca? If you had been in my place, would you not have done likewise? You have acted in a way that makes me wish I had done that myself, said the leader goose proudly. It is a relief to know that you approve, said the boy. Now there is one thing more I wish to ask you about. One day I happened to see Gorgo, the eagle, the one that fought with Mortungus Agander, a prisoner at Skansen. He was in the eagle's cage and looked pitifully forlorn. I was thinking of filing down the wire roof over him and letting him out. But I also thought of his being a dangerous robber and bird eater, and wondered if I should be doing right in letting Lou such a plunderer, and if it were not better perhaps to let him stay where he was. What say you, Madraca? Was it right to think thus? No, it was not right, retorted Acca. Say what you will about the eagles. They are proud birds and greater lovers of freedom than all others. It is not right to keep them in captivity. Do you know what I would suggest? This, that, as soon as you are well rested, we too make the trip together to the Big Bird Prison and liberate Gorgo. That is just the word I was expecting from you, Madraca. Return the boy eagerly. There are those who say that you no longer have any love in your heart for the one you read so tenderly, because he lives as eagles must live. But I know now that it isn't true, and now I want to see if Morten Goosegander is awake. Meanwhile, if you wish to say a thank you to the one who brought me here to you, I think you'll find him up there on the cliff ledge, where once you found a helpless egglet. End of Westbottom and Lapland, read by Lars Rolander.