still. "Don't you believe him! Don't you believe him!" cried he.
"Who, who, who is it that lies about me?" cooed Mr. Dove, and tried to get a
sight of the one who shrieked at him. "It is Caught-by-Crows that lies about
you," replied the boy. Again Wind-Rush turned to the boy and commanded him to
shut up, but Fumle-Drumle, who was carrying him, said: "Let him chatter, then
all the little birds will think that we crows have become quick-witted and funny
birds." "Oh! they're not such fools as that," said Wind-Rush; but he liked the
idea just the same, for after that he let the boy call out as much as he liked.
They flew mostly over forests and woodlands. In one place they saw a pretty old
manor-house with the lake before it, and the forest behind it. The old house had
red walls and a turreted roof; great sycamores about the grounds, and big, thick
gooseberry-bushes in the orchard. On top of the weathercock sat the starling,
singing so loud that every note was heard by the wife, who sat on an egg in the
heart of a pear tree. "We have four pretty little eggs," sang the staring. "We
have four pretty little round eggs. We have the whole nest filled with fine
eggs."
When the starling sang the song for the thousandth time, the boy rode over the
place. He put his hands up to his mouth, as a pipe, and called to the starling:
"The magpie will get them. The magpie will get them."
"Who is it that wants to frighten me?" asked the starling, and flapped his wings
uneasily. "It is Captured-by Crows that frightens you," said the boy. This time
the crow-chief didn't attempt to hush him up. Instead, both he and his flock
were having so much fun that they cawed with satisfaction.
The farther inland they came, the larger were the lakes, and the more plentiful
were the islands and points. And on a lake-shore stood a drake bowing before the
duck. "I'll be true to you all the days of my life. I'll be true to you all the
days of my life," vowed the drake. "It won't last until the summer's end,"
shrieked the boy. "Who are you?" called the drake. "My name's Stolen-by-Crows,"
shrieked the boy.
At dinner time the crows lighted in a food-grove. They walked about and procured
food for themselves, but none of them thought of giving the boy anything. Then
Fumle-Drumle came riding up to the chief with a dog-rose branch with a few dried
buds on it. "Here's something for you, Wind-Rush," said he. "This is dainty
food, and suitable for you." Wind-Rush sniffed contemptuously. "Do you think
that I want to eat old, dry buds?" said he. "And I who thought you would be
pleased with them!" said Fumle-Drumle; throwing away the dog-rose branch as if
in despair. It fell right in front of the boy, and he wasn't slow in grabbing it
and eating until he was satisfied.
When the crows were done eating, they began to chatter. "What are you thinking
about, Wind-Rush? You are so quiet to-day," said one of them to the leader. "I'm
thinking that once upon a time there lived in this district a hen who was very
fond of her mistress; and in order to really please her, she went and laid a
nest full of eggs, which she hid under the storehouse floor. The mistress of the
house wondered, of course, where the hen was keeping herself such a long time.
She searched for her, but did not find her. Can you guess, Longbill, who it was
that found her and the eggs?"
"I think I can guess it, Wind-Rush, but when you have told about this, I will
tell you something like it. Do you remember the big, black cat in Hinneryd's
parish house? She was dissatisfied because they always took the new-born kittens
from her, and drowned them. Just once did she succeed in keeping them concealed,
and that was when she had laid them in a haystack out doors. She was pretty well
pleased with those young kittens, but I believe that I got more pleasure out of
them than she did."
Now they became so excited that they all talked at once. "What kind of a trick
is that ­ to steal little kittens?" said one. "I once chased a young hare who
was almost full-grown. That meant to follow him from covert to covert." He got
no further before another took the words from him. "It may be fun, perhaps, to
annoy hens and cats, but I find it still more remarkable that a crow can worry a
human being. I once stole a silver spoon ­ "
But now the boy thought he was too good to sit and hear such gabble. "Now listen
to me, you crows!" said he. "I say that you ought to be ashamed of bragging
about all your wickedness. I have lived amongst wild geese for three weeks, and
while with them I never heard or saw anything but good. You must have a bad
chief, since he permits you to rob and murder in this way. You should really
begin life anew, for I can tell you that human beings have grown so tired of
your wickedness that they are doing everything in their power to root you out.
And there will soon be an end to you."
When Wind-Rush and the crows heard this, they were so furious that they wanted
to throw themselves upon him and tear him in pieces. But Fumle-Drumle laughed
and cawed, and stood in front of him. "Oh, no, no!" said he, and seemed
perfectly horrified. "What think you that Wind-Air will say if you tear
Thumbietot in pieces before he has got that silver money for us?" "It has to be
you, Fumle-Drumle, that's afraid of women-folk," said Rush. But, at any rate,
both he and the others left Thumbietot in peace.
Shortly after that the crows moved on. Until now the boy had thought that
Småland wasn't such a poor country after all. Of course it was woody and full of
mountain-ridges, but alongside the islands and lakes lay cultivated grounds, and
any real desolation he hadn't come upon. But the farther inland they went the
fewer became the villages and cottages. Toward the last, he thought he was
riding over a veritable wilderness of nothing but swamps and heaths and
juniper-hills.
The sun had gone down, but it was still quite light when the crows reached the
large heather-heath. Wind-Rush sent a crow ahead to say that he had met with
success; and when it was known, Wind-Air, with several hundred crows from
crow-ridge, flew to meet the arrivals. In the midst of the deafening cawing
which the crows emitted, Fumle-Drumle said to the boy: "You have been so comical
and so jolly during the trip that I am really fond of you. Therefore, I want to
give you some good advice. As soon as we light, you'll be requested to do a bit
of work which may seem very easy to you; but beware of doing it!"
Soon thereafter Fumle-Drumle put Nils down in the bottom of a sandpit. The boy
flung himself on his back, and lay there as though he was simply done up. Such a
lot of crows fluttered about him that the air rustled like a wind-storm, but he
didn't look up.
"Thumbietot," said Wind-Rush, "get up now! You shall help us with a matter which
will be very easy for you."
The boy didn't move, but pretended to be asleep. Then Wind-Rush took him by the
arm and dragged him over the sand toward an earthen crock of old-time make that
stood in the pit. "Get up, Thumbietot," said he, "and open this crock!" "Why
can't you let me sleep!" yawned the boy. "I'm too tired to do anything to-night.
Wait until to-morrow!"
"Open the crock!" said Wind-Rush, shaking him. "How shall a poor little child be
able to open such a crock? Why, it's quite as large as I am myself." "Open it!"
commanded Wind-Rush once more, "or it will be a sorry thing for you." The boy
got up, tottered over to the crock, fumbled the clasp, and let his arms fall.
"I'm not usually so weak," said he. "If you will only let me sleep until
morning, I think that I'll be able to manage with that clasp."
But Wind-Rush was impatient, and he flew at the boy and nipped him in the leg.
The boy didn't care to suffer that sort of treatment from a crow. He jerked
himself loose, ran a couple of paces backward, drew his knife from the sheath,
and held it threateningly in front of him. "You'd better be careful!" he cried
to Wind-Rush.
But Wind-Rush, too, was so enraged that he didn't dodge the danger. He rushed at
the boy, just as if he were blind, and ran so straight against the knife that it
entered through his eye into his head. The boy quickly drew the knife back, but
Wind-Rush only struck out with his wings, then fell dead.
"Wind-Rush is dead! The stranger has killed our chieftain, Wind-Rush!" cried the
nearest crows. And then there was a terrible uproar. Some wailed, others cried
for vengeance. They all ran or fluttered up to the boy, with Fumle-Drumle in the
lead. But Fumle-Drumle acted badly, as usual, fluttering and spreading his wings
over the boy, and preventing the others from coming forward and running their
bills into him.
The boy thought that now things looked bad for him. He couldn't run away from
the crows, and there was no place where he could hide. Suddenly he happened to
think of the earthen crock. He took a firm hold on the clasp and pulled it out.
Then he hopped into the crock to hide there. But the crock was a poor hiding
place, for it was filled almost to the brim with little, thin silver coins. The
boy couldn't get far enough down, so he stooped and began to throw out the
coins.
Until now the crows had fluttered around him in a thick swarm, pecking at him,
but when he threw out the money they immediately forgot their thirst for
vengeance, and hurried to gather the coins. The boy threw out handfuls and all
the crows ­ yes, even Wind-Air herself ­ picked them up. And each one as he
succeeded in picking up a coin ran off to the nest with the utmost speed to
conceal it.
After the boy had thrown out all the silver pennies from the crock he glanced
up. But one crow was left in the sand-pit. That was Fumle-Drumle, with the white
feather in his wing; he who had carried Thumbietot. "You have rendered me a
greater service than you yourself understand," said the crow in a tone very
different from the one he had used hitherto, "and I want to save your life. Sit
down on my back and I'll take you to a hiding-place where you will be safe
to-night. To-morrow, I shall arrange it so that you can get back to the wild
geese."
THE CABIN
Thursday, April fourteenth.
THE following morning when the boy awoke, he was lying in a bed. When he saw
that he was in a house with four walls around him, and a roof over him, he
thought that he was at home. "I wonder if mother will come soon with some
coffee," he muttered to himself where he lay, half awake. Then he remembered
that he was in a deserted cabin on the crow-ridge and that Fumle-Drumle with the
white feather had borne him there the night before.
The boy was sore all over after the journey he had made, and he thought it
lovely to lie still while waiting for Fumle-Drumle, who had promised to come and
fetch him.
Curtains of checked cotton hung before the bed. He drew them aside to look out
into the cabin and instantly it occurred to him that he had never seen the mate
to a cabin like this. The walls consisted of nothing but two rows of logs; then
the roof began. There was no interior ceiling, so he could look clear up to the
roof-tree. The cabin was so small that it appeared to be built for such as he
rather than for real people. However, the fireplace and chimney were so large,
he thought he had never seen larger. The entrance door was in a gable-wall at
the side of the fireplace, and so narrow that it was more like a wicket than a
door. In the other gable-wall he saw a low and broad window with many little
panes. There was scarcely any movable furniture in the cabin. The bench by the
wall and the table under the window were stationary ­ also the big bed where he
lay, and the many-coloured cupboard.
The boy could not help wondering who owned the cabin, and why it was deserted.
It certainly looked as though the people who had lived there expected to return.
The coffee-urn and the gruel-pot stood on the hearth, and there was wood in the
fireplace; in a corner stood the oven rake and baker's peel; the spinning-wheel
was raised on a bench; on the shelf over the window lay oakum and flax; two
skeins of yarn, a candle, and a bunch of matches.
Yes, it surely looked as if the people who had lived there intended to come
back. There were bedclothes on the bed; and the walls were hung with long strips
of cloth, upon which three riders named Kaspar, Melchior, and Balthazar were
painted. The same horses and riders were pictured many times. They rode all
around the cabin, and even up toward the joists.
But in the roof the boy saw something which brought him to his feet in a jiffy.
Two big bread-cakes hung there upon a spit. They looked old and mouldy, but it
was bread all the same. He gave them a knock with the oven-rake and one cake
fell to the floor. He ate some of it, then filled his bag. It was incredible how
good bread was, anyhow.
He looked around the cabin once more, trying to discover if there was anything
else he might find useful to take along. "I may as well take what I need, since
no one else cares about it," thought he. But most everything was too big and
heavy. All that he could carry might be a few matches, perhaps.
He clambered upon the table, and swung himself, with the help of the curtains,
onto the window-shelf. While he stood there stuffing the matches into his bag,
the crow with the white feather came in through the window. "Well, here I am at
last," said Fumle-Drumle as he lit on the table. "I couldn't get here any sooner
