it hadn't. He was ­ and remained ­ just as little. In other respects, he was the
same as before. The thin, straw-coloured hair; the freckles across his nose; the
patches on his leather breeches and the darns on his stockings were all like
themselves, with this difference; they had become diminished.
No, it would do him no good to stand still and wait, of that he was certain. He
must try something else. And he thought the wisest thing that he could do was to
try to find the elf, and make his peace with him.
He jumped to the floor and began to search. He looked behind chairs and
cupboards; under the sofa and in the oven, and he even crawled down into a
couple of ratholes ­ but he simply couldn't find the elf.
And while he sought, he cried and prayed and promised everything he could think
of. Nevermore would he break his word to any one; never again would he be
naughty; and never, never would he fall asleep any more 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 folk made
their home in the cowshed; and, at once, he decided to go there, to 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 difficulty.
When he came out into 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 ever manage with these big, clumsy wooden shoes; but just then, he
happened to see a pair of tiny shoes on the doorstep. When he observed that the
elf had been so thoughtful as to bewitch even the wooden shoes, he was more
troubled than ever. It was evidently the elf's meaning that this affliction
should last a long time.
On the old plank-walk in front of the cottage, hopped a gray sparrow. It had
hardly set eyes on the boy before it called out: "Teetee! Teetee! Look at Nils
goosey-boy! Look at Thumbietot! Look at Nils Holgersson Thumbietot!"
Instantly the geese and the chickens turned and stared at the boy; and then they
set up a fearful cackling, "Cock-el-i-coo," crowed the rooster, "good enough for
him! Cock-el-i-coo, he has pulled my comb." "Ka, ka kada, serves 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 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 turned into an elf," said he. "This is probably why I
understand bird-talk."
He thought it unbearable that the hens would not stop saying that it served him
right. He threw a stone at them and shouted: "Shut up, you pack!"
"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 at him, and formed a ring around
him; then they all cried at once: "Ka, ka, kada, served you right! Ka, ka, kada,
served 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
got 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 hereabout? You'll be a good little kitty and
tell me where I can find the elf."
The cat did not reply at once. He sat down leisurely, curled his tail into a
graceful ring around his paws ­ 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 gray, with 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'm going to tell you about it."
"Dear pussy, you must tell me where the elf lives!" pleaded 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 a cat so 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, his jaws wide apart over his throat.
The boy felt how the sharp claws sank through his vest and shirt into his skin;
and how the sharp eyeteeth 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 for 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 when he first
appeared on the scene. The boy was so crestfallen that he couldn'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
there were at least thirty.
"Moo, moo, moo," bellowed Mayrose. "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 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 when he would let
a strange dog in on them. They kicked with their hind legs, shook their flanks,
stretched their heads, and measured the distance with their horns.
"Come here, you!" said Mayrose, "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!" bawled Star.
"Come here, and you shall be repaid for that wasp you let loose in my ear!"
growled Gold Lily.
Mayrose was the oldest and the wisest among 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 pail away from your mother, and for all the snares you laid for
her when she came carrying the milk pails and for all the tears which she has
stood here and wept over you!"
The boy wanted to tell them how much 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; so 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 briers and lichen. There he sat down to ponder how it would go
with him, were he never again to became a human being. When father and mother
got back 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 Vemmenhög,
and from Torp, and from Skerup. The whole Vemmenhög Parish would come to stare
at him. Perhaps father and mother would take him along to Kivik, and show him at
the market-place.
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
crushed down to earth, under the high, sloping roof. The outhouses were also
small; and the patches of tilled 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 hope for a better home than a hole under the
stable floor.
It was wondrously beautiful weather! It budded, and it rippled, and it murmured,
and it twittered ­ 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 so blue as they were to-day. Birds of passage came
on the wing. They came from foreign lands, having travelled over the Baltic Sea,
by way of Smygahuk, 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
lines, 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 of where we are."
It was, as said, an uncommonly fine day, with an atmosphere that it must have
been a real delight to fly in, so light and bracing. And with each new wild
goose flock that flew by, the tame geese became more and more excited. A couple
of times they flapped their wings, as if they had half a mind to fly along. 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, shrieking like the others, and the young gander
answered: "Wait a minute! Wait a minute! I'm coming."
He spread his wings and raised himself into the air; but he was so unaccustomed
to flying that he fell to the ground again.
At all events, 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 goosey-gander should go away. It would be a big loss to
father and mother to find him gone on their return from church."
As 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 goosey-gander. "Oh, no! You don't fly away this time,
sir!" cried he.
But just about then, the gander was considering how he should go to work to
raise 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 heights 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 instantly killed, had he fallen to the
ground.
The only thing that he could do to make himself a little more comfortable, was
to try to get upon the gander's back. And there he wriggled himself forthwith;
but not without a mighty effort. Nor was it easy to hold himself secure on the
slippery back, between two flapping 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 lashed against him, and the rustle of feathers and beatings
of wings sounded like a full storm. Thirteen geese flew around him, flapping
