the opinion that he did not in the least take after his forefathers, and that he
wouldn't do as a leader. No one would have noticed him, if he hadn't constantly
committed fresh blunders. A few, who were quite sensible, said that perhaps it
was lucky for Fumle-Drumle that he was such a bungling idiot; otherwise
Wind-Rush and Wind-Air would hardly have allowed him, who was of the old
chieftan stock, to remain with the flock.
Now, on the other hand, they were rather friendly toward him, and willingly took
him along with them on their marauding explorations, where all could observe how
much more skilful and daring they were than he.
None of the crows knew that it was Fumle-Drumle who had pecked the rag out of
the window; for had they known of this, they would have been very much
astonished. Such a thing as daring to approach a human habitation they had never
credited him with. He had kept this very carefully to himself, and he had his
own good reasons for doing so. Wind and Air always treated him well in the
daytime, and when the others were around. But one dark night, when the comrades
were perched on the night branch, he was attacked by a couple of crows and
nearly murdered. After that every night, when it was dark, he moved from his
usual sleeping quarters into the empty cabin.
Now one afternoon, when the crows on the crow-ridge had put their nests in
order, they happened upon a remarkable find. Wind-Rush, Fumle-Drumle, and a
couple of the others had flown down into a big hollow in one corner of the
heath. The hollow was nothing but a gravel-pit, but the crows could not be
satisfied with such a simple explanation; they flew down into it continually,
turning over every single sand-grain to get at the reason why human beings had
dug it. While the crows were pottering around down there, a mass of gravel fell
from one side. They rushed up to it, and had the good fortune to find amongst
the fallen stones and stubble a large earthen crock, which was locked with a
wooden clasp. Naturally, they wanted to know if there was anything in it, and
tried to peck holes in the crock and to bend up the clasp, but had no success.
They stood perplexed looking at the crock, when they heard some one say: "Shall
I come down and assist you crows?" They glanced up quickly. On the edge of the
hollow sat a fox blinking down at them. He was one of the prettiest foxes as to
both colour and form that they had ever seen. The only fault with him was that
he had lost an ear.
"If you wish to do us a service, we will not say nay," said Wind-Rush, as he and
the others flew up from the hollow. Then the fox jumped down in their place,
pecked at the jar, and pulled at the lock ­ but he couldn't open it either.
"Can you make out what there is in it?" said Wind-Rush. The fox rolled the jar
back and forth, and listened carefully. "It must be silver money," said he.
This was more than the crows had expected. "Do you think it can be silver?" they
gasped, their eyes ready to pop out of their heads with greed; for remarkable as
it may sound, there is nothing in the world which crows love so much as silver.
"Hear how it rattles!" said the fox, rolling the crock around once more. "Only I
can't understand how we shall get at it." "That will surely be impossible," said
the crows. The fox stood rubbing his head against his left fore-leg, and
pondered: Now perhaps he might succeed, with the help of the crows, in mastering
that little imp who was always eluding him. "Oh! I know some one who can open
the crock for you," said the fox. "Then tell us! Tell us! cried the crows; and
they were so excited that they tumbled down into the pit. "That I will do, if
you'll first promise me that you will agree to my terms," he said.
Then the fox told the crows about Thumbietot, and said that if they could only
bring him to the heath he would open the crock for them. But in payment for this
counsel, he demanded that they should deliver Thumbietot to him as soon as he
had got the silver money for them. The crows had no reason to spare Thumbietot,
so accepted the proposal at once; but it was not so easy to find out where
Thumbietot and the wild geese were stopping.
Wind-Rush himself started away with fifty crows, and said that he should soon
return. But one day after another passed without the crows on the crow-ridge
seeing a shadow of him.
KIDNAPPED BY CROWS
Wednesday, April thirteenth.
THE wild geese were up at daybreak, in time to get themselves a bite of food
before starting out on their journey toward Östergötland. The island in Goose
Bay, where they had slept, was small and barren, but in the water all around it
were water-weeds upon which they could eat their fill. It was worse for the boy,
however. He couldn't manage to find anything eatable.
As he stood there, hungry and drowsy, looking around in all directions, his
glance fell upon a pair of squirrels playing upon the wooded point, opposite the
rock island. He wondered if the squirrels had any of their winter supplies left,
and asked the white goosey-gander to take him over to the point that he might
beg them for a couple of hazelnuts.
The white one promptly swam across the bay with the boy, but as luck would have
it, the squirrels were having so much fun chasing each other from tree to tree
that they didn't bother about listening to him. Instead they drew farther into
the grove. He hurried after them, and was soon out of the goosey-gander's sight
­ the latter stayed behind and waited on the shore.
The boy was wading forward between some white anemone-stems ­ which were so high
that they reached to his chin ­ when he felt some one from behind catch hold of
him, and try to lift him up. He faced about and saw that a crow had gripped him
by the shirt-band. He tried to jerk himself loose, but before he could do so,
another crow rushed up, caught him by the stocking, and knocked him over.
If Nils had at once cried for help, the white goosey-gander certainly could have
saved him; but the boy probably thought that he could protect himself, unaided,
against a couple of crows. He kicked and struck out, but the crows didn't let go
their hold, and succeeded in rising into the air with him. To make matters
worse, they flew so recklessly that his head struck against a branch. He got
such a hard bump that it grew black before his eyes, and he lost consciousness.
When he opened his eyes once more, he found himself high above the ground. He
regained his senses slowly; at first he knew neither where he was, nor what he
saw. When he glanced down, he noticed that under him was spread a tremendous big
woolly carpet which was woven in greens and reds, and in large irregular
patterns. The carpet was very thick and fine, but he thought it a pity that it
had been so badly used. It was actually ragged; long tears ran through it and,
in some places, large pieces were torn away. But strangest of all, it was spread
over a mirror-floor; for under the holes and tears in the carpet shone bright
and glittering glass.
And then, the boy saw the sun come rolling up in the heavens. Instantly, the
mirror-glass under the holes and tears in the carpet began to shimmer in red and
gold. It looked gorgeous, and the boy was charmed with the pretty colour-scheme,
although he didn't exactly understand what it was that he saw. But now the crows
descended and at once he understood that the big carpet under him was the earth,
which was dressed in green cone-trees and brown, naked leaf-trees, and that the
holes and tears were shimmering bays and little lakes.
He remembered that the first time he had travelled up in the air, he had thought
that the earth in Skåne looked like a piece of checked cloth. But this
landscape, which resembled a torn carpet ­ what country might this be?
He began to ask himself a lot of questions. Why wasn't he sitting on the
goosey-gander's back? Why did a great swarm of crows fly around him? And why was
he being pulled and knocked hither and thither so that he was about to break in
two.
Then, all at once, the whole thing dawned upon him. He had been kidnapped by a
couple of crows. The white goosey-gander was still on the shore, waiting, and
to-day the wild geese were to travel to Östergötland. He was being carried
southwest; this he understood because the sun's disc was behind him. The big
forest-carpet which lay beneath him was surely Småland.
"What will become of the goosey-gander now, when I cannot look after him?"
thought the boy, and he began to shout at the crows to take him back to the wild
geese instantly. He was not at all uneasy on his own account for he believed
that they were carrying him off simply in a spirit of mischief.
The crows didn't pay the slightest attention to his exhortations, but flew on as
fast as they could. After a bit, one of them flapped his wings in a manner which
meant: "Look out! Danger!" Soon thereafter they came down in a spruce forest,
pushed their way between prickly branches to the ground, and put the boy down
under a thick pine, where he was so well concealed that not even a falcon could
have sighted him.
Fifty crows, with bills pointed toward him, surrounded him. "Now, crows, perhaps
I may hear what your purpose is in carrying me off," said he. But he was hardly
allowed to finish the sentence before a big crow hissed at him: "Keep still! or
I'll bore your eyes out."
It was plain that the crow meant what she said; and there was nothing for the
boy to do but obey. So he sat there and stared at the crows, and the crows
stared at him.
The longer he looked at them, the less he liked them. Their feather-dresses were
shockingly dusty and unkempt ­ as if they had never come in contact with water
or oil. Their toes and claws were grimy with dried-in mud, and the corners of
their mouths were covered with food drippings. These were very different birds
from the wild geese ­ that he observed. He thought they had a cruel, sneaky,
watchful, and bold appearance, just like cut-throats and vagabonds.
"I have certainly fallen in with a real robber-band," he remarked to himself.
Just then he heard the wild geese's call above him. "Where are you? Here am I.
Where are you? Here am I."
He understood that Akka and the others were out searching for him; but before he
could answer them, the big crow, who appeared to be the leader of the band,
hissed in his ear: "Think of your eyes!" And there was nothing for him to do but
keep still.
He heard their call once or twice more, then it died away. The wild geese did
not know he was so near them. "Well, you'll have to get along by yourself, Nils
Holgersson," he thought. "Now you must prove whether or not you have learned
anything during these weeks in the open."
A moment later the crows gave the signal to break up; and since it was still
their intention, apparently, to carry him along in such a way that one held onto
his shirt-band, and one to a stocking, the boy said: "Is there not one among you
strong enough to carry me on his back? You have already travelled so badly with
me that I feel as if I were in pieces. Only let me ride! I'll not jump from the
crow's back, that I promise you."
"Oh! you needn't think that we mind how you fare," snapped the leader. But now
the largest of the crows, a dishevelled and uncouth one with a white feather in
his wing, came forward and said: "It would certainly be best for all of us,
Wind-Rush, if Thumbietot got there whole, rather than in sections. Therefore, I
shall carry him on my back." "If you can do it, Fumle-Drumle, I have no
objection," said Wind-Rush. "But don't lose him!"
Herewith much was already gained, and the boy actually felt contented. "There is
nothing to be gained by losing my grit because I have been kidnapped by the
crows," thought he. "I'll surely be able to manage those poor little wretches."
"IS THERE NOT ONE AMONG YOU STRONG ENOUGH TO CARRY ME ON HIS BACK?"
The crows continued to fly southwest, over Småland. It was a glorious morning ­
sunny and calm; and the birds down on the earth were singing their best love
songs. In a high, dark forest sat the thrush himself with drooping wings and
swelling throat, and he struck up a tune. "How pretty you are! How pretty you
are! How pretty you are!" sang he. "No one is so pretty. No one is so pretty. No
one is so pretty." As soon as he had finished this song, he began all over
again.
But just then the boy rode over the forest; and when he had heard the song a
couple of times, and marked that the thrush knew no other, he put both hands up
to his mouth as a speaking trumpet, and called down: "We've heard all this
before. We've heard all this before." "Who is it? Who is it? Who is it? Who
makes fun of me?" asked the thrush, trying to catch a glimpse of the one who
called. "It is Kidnapped-by-Crows who makes fun of your song," answered the boy.
At that, the crow-chief turned his head and said: "Be careful of your eyes,
Thumbietot!" But the boy thought, "Oh! I don't care about that. I want to show
you that I'm not afraid of you!"
They travelled farther and farther inland with woods and lakes everywhere. In a
birch-grove on a naked bough sat Mrs. Wood-Dove, before her stood Mr. Wood-Dove.
He blew up his feathers, cocked his head, raised and lowered his body, until the
breast-feathers rattled against the branch. All the while he cooed: "You, you,
you are the loveliest in all the forest. No one in the forest is so lovely as
you, you, you!"
But up in the air the boy rode past, and when he heard Mr. Dove he couldn't keep
