because we crows have elected a new chieftain in Wind-Rush's place." "Whom have
you chosen?" said the boy. "Well, we have chosen one who will not permit robbery
and injustice. We have chosen Garm Whitefeather, lately called Fumle-Drumle," he
answered, drawing himself up until he looked absolutely regal. "That was a good
choice," said the boy, and congratulated him. "You may well wish me luck!" said
Garm; then he told the boy about the time they had had with Wind-Rush and
Wind-Air.
During this recital the boy heard a voice outside the window which he thought
sounded familiar. "Is he here?" inquired the fox. "Yes, he's hidden in there,"
answered a crow-voice. "Be careful, Thumbietot!" cried Garm. "Wind-Air stands
outside with that fox who wants to eat you." More he didn't have time to say,
for just then Smirre dashed against the window. The old, rotten window-frame
gave way. The next second Smirre stood upon the window-table and Garm
Whitefeather, who had no time to fly away, he instantly killed. Thereupon he
jumped to the floor, and looked around for the boy. Thumbietot tried to hide
behind a big oakum-spiral, but Smirre had already spied him, and was crouched
for the final spring. Since the cabin was so small and so low, the boy realized
that the fox would have no difficulty in reaching him. But at that moment the
boy was not without weapons of defence. He quickly struck a match, set it to the
oakum, and when it was aflame he threw it down upon Smirre Fox. As the fire
enveloped the fox, he was seized with mad terror. He thought no more about the
boy, but rushed wildly out of the cabin.
But it looked as if the boy had escaped one danger only to throw himself into a
greater one. From the tuft of oakum which he had flung at Smirre the fire had
spread to the bedhangings. He jumped down and tried to smother it, but now it
blazed too violently. The cabin was soon filled with smoke, and Smirre Fox, who
had remained just outside the window, began to grasp the state of affairs
within. "Well, Thumbietot," he called out, "which do you choose now: to be
broiled alive in there, or to come out here to me? Of course, I should prefer to
have the pleasure of eating you; but in whichever way death meets you it will be
dear to me."
The boy could not think but that the fox was right, for the fire was making
rapid headway. The whole bed was now ablaze; smoke rose from the floor; and
along the painted wall-strips the fire crept from rider to rider. The boy had
jumped up into the fireplace and was trying to open the oven door, when some one
inserted a key into the keyhole and slowly turned the lock. "It must be human
beings coming." he thought. And in his dire dilemma he was not afraid, but only
glad. He was already on the threshold when the door opened. Before him stood two
children. How they looked when they saw the cabin in flames he took no time to
find out, but rushed past them into the open.
He didn't dare run far. He knew, of course, that Smirre Fox lay in wait for him,
and he understood that he must remain near the children. He turned round to see
what sort of folk they were, but he hadn't looked at them a second before he ran
up to them and cried: "Oh, good-day, Osa goose-girl! Oh, good-day, little Mats!"
For when the boy saw those children he forgot entirely where he was. Crows and
burning cabin and talking animals had vanished from his memory. He was walking
on a stubble-field in West Vemmenhög tending a goose-flock; and beside him, on
the field, walked those same Småland children, with their geese. The instant he
recognized them, he bounded to the stone-hedge and shouted: "Oh, good-day, Osa
goose-girl! Oh, good-day, little Mats!"
But when the children saw such a little creature coming up to them with
outstretched hands, they caught hold of each other, staggered back, and looked
scared to death.
When the boy observed their terror he came to and remembered who he was. And
then it seemed to him that nothing worse could happen than that those children
should see how he had been bewitched. Shame and grief because he was no longer a
human being overpowered him. He turned and fled ­ he knew not whither.
But a glad meeting awaited the boy when he came down to the heath. For there, in
the heather, he spied something white, and toward him came the white
goosey-gander, accompanied by Dunfin. When the white one saw the boy running
with such speed, he thought that dreadful fiends were pursuing him. So he
hastily flung him upon his back and flew off with him.
[Next]
Chapter XVII.
"Chapter XVII." by Selma Lagerlöf (1858-1940), translated by Velma Swanston
Howard.
From: The Wonderful Adventures of Nils. by Selma Lagerlöf. New York: Doubleday,
Page & Company, 1922, pp. 213-225.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE OLD PEASANT WOMAN
Thursday, April fourteenth
THREE tired wanderers were out in the late evening in search of a night harbour.
They travelled over a poor and desolate portion of northern Småland. But the
sort of resting place they wanted, they should have been able to find; for they
were no weaklings who asked for soft beds or comfortable rooms. "If one of these
long mountain-ridges had a peak so high and steep that a fox couldn't in any way
climb up to it, then we should have a good sleeping-place," said one. "If a
single one of the big swamps was thawed out, and so marshy and wet that a fox
wouldn't dare venture out on it, that, too, would be a right good night
harbour," said the second. "If the ice on one of the large lakes over which we
travel were only loose, so that a fox could not come out upon it, then we should
have found just what we are seeking," said the third.
The worst of it was that when the sun went down two of the travellers became so
sleepy that every second they were ready to fall to the ground. The third one,
who could keep awake, grew more and more uneasy as night approached. "Then it
was a misfortune that we came to a land where lakes and swamps are frozen, so
that a fox can get around everywhere. In other places the ice has melted away;
but now we're well up in the very coldest Småland, where spring has not as yet
arrived. I don't know how I shall ever manage to find a good sleeping-place!
Unless I find some spot that is well protected, Smirre Fox will be upon us
before morning."
He gazed in all directions, but saw no shelter where he could lodge. It was a
dark and chilly night, with wind and drizzle. It grew more terrible and
disagreeable around him every second.
This may sound strange, perhaps, but the travellers did not seem to have the
least desire to ask for house-room on any farm. They had already passed many
parishes without knocking at a single door. Little hillside cabins on the
outskirts of the forests, which all poor wanderers are glad to run across, they
took no notice of either. One might almost be tempted to say they deserved to
have a hard time of it, since they did not seek help where it was to be had for
the asking.
But finally, when it was so dark that there was scarcely a glimmer of light left
under the skies and the two who needed rest journeyed on in a kind of
half-sleep, they happened upon a farmyard which was far removed from all
neighbouring farms. Not only did it lie there desolate, but it appeared to be
uninhabited as well. No smoke rose from the chimney; no light shone through the
windows; no human being moved on the place. When the one who could keep awake
saw the place, he thought: "Now come what may, we must try to get in here.
Anything better we are not likely to find."
Soon after that, all three stood in the houseyard. Two of them fell asleep the
instant they stood still, but the third looked about him eagerly, to find out
where they could get under cover. It was not a small farm. Beside the dwelling
house and stable and smokehouse, there were long ranges with granaries and
storehouses and cattlesheds. But it all looked awfully poor and dilapidated. The
houses had gray, moss-grown, leaning walls, which seemed ready to topple over.
In the roofs were yawning holes, and the doors hung aslant on broken hinges. It
was apparent that here no one had taken the trouble to drive a nail into a wall
in a long time.
Meanwhile, he who was awake had discovered which of the houses was the cowshed.
He roused his travelling companions from their sleep, and conducted them to the
cowshed door. Luckily, this was not fastened with anything but a hasp which he
could easily push up with a rod. He heaved a sigh of relief at the thought that
they should soon be in safety. But as the cowshed door swung open with a sharp
creaking, he heard a cow begin to bellow. "Are you coming at last, mistress?"
said she. "I thought you were not going to give me any supper to-night."
The one who was awake paused in the doorway, terror-stricken, when he discovered
that the cowshed was not empty. But he soon saw that there was only one cow in
the shed, and three or four chickens; and then he took courage again. "We are
three poor travellers who want to come in somewhere, where no fox can assail us,
and no human being capture us," said he. "We wonder if this can be a good place
for us." "I cannot believe but that it is," answered the cow. "To be sure the
walls are wretched, but the fox does not walk through them as yet; and no one
lives here but an old peasant woman, who isn't at all likely to make a captive
of any one. But who are you?" she continued, as she twisted in her stall to get
a sight of the newcomers. "I am Nils Holgersson from Vemmenhög, who has been
transformed into an elf," replied the first of the incomers, "and I have with me
a tame goose, whom I usually ride, and a gray goose." "Such distinguished guests
have never before been within my four walls," said the cow, "and I bid you
welcome, although I would have preferred that it had been my mistress, come to
give me my supper."
The boy led the geese into the cowshed, which was rather large, and placed them
in an empty manger, where they fell asleep instantly. For himself, he made a
little bed of straw thinking that he, too, would drop to sleep at once.
But this was impossible, for the poor cow, who hadn't had her supper, wasn't
still an instant. She shook her flanks, moved around in the stall, complaining
all the while of how hungry she was. The boy couldn't get a wink of sleep, but
lay there thinking over all that had happened to him during these last days.
He thought of Osa, the goose-girl, and little Mats, whom he had so unexpectedly
encountered; and it occurred to him that the little cabin which he had set on
fire must have been their old home in Småland. Now he remembered that he had
heard them speak of just such a cabin, and of the big heather-heath which lay
below it. They had wandered back there to see their old home again, and when
they arrived, it was in flames.
It was indeed a great sorrow that he had brought upon them, and it hurt him very
much. If he ever again became a human being, he would try to make up for all
this damage and miscalculation.
Then his thoughts wandered to the crows. And when he thought of Fumle-Drumle who
had saved his life, and who had met his own death so soon after having been
elected chieftain, he was so distressed that tears filled his eyes.
He had had a pretty rough time of it these last few days. But anyhow it was a
rare stroke of luck that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found him.
The goosey-gander had said that as soon as the wild geese discovered that
Thumbietot had disappeared, they had asked all the small animals in the forest
about him. They soon learned that a flock of Småland crows had carried him off.
But the crows were already out of sight, and whither they had directed their
course no one had been able to say. That they might find the boy as soon as
possible, Akka had commanded the wild geese to start out ­ two and two ­ in
different directions, to search for him. But after a two days' hunt, whether or
not they had found him, they were to meet in northwestern Småland on a high
mountain-top, which resembled an abrupt, chopped-off tower, and was called
Taberg. After Akka had given them the best directions, as to how they should
reach Taberg, they had separated.
The white goosey-gander had chosen Dunfin as travelling companion, and they had
flown about hither and thither with the greatest anxiety for Thumbietot. During
this ramble they had heard a thrush, who sat in a tree-top, cry and wail that
some one who called himself Kidnapped-by-Crows, had made fun of him. They had
talked with the thrush, and he had shown them in which direction that
Kidnapped-by-Crows had travelled. Afterward, they had met a dove-cock, a
starling and a drake who had all wailed about a little culprit that had
disturbed their song, and who was named Caught-by-Crows, Captured-by-Crows, and
Stolen-by-Crows. In this way, they were enabled to trace Thumbietot all the way
to the heather-heath in Sonnerbo Parish.
As soon as the goosey-gander and Dunfin had found Thumbietot, they had flown
northward, in order to reach Taberg. But it had been a long road to travel, and
the darkness was upon them before they had sighted the mountain top. "If we only
get there by to-morrow, surely all our troubles will be over," thought the boy,
as he dug down into the straw to have it warmer. All the while the cow fussed
and fumed in the stall. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk to the boy.
"Everything is wrong with me," said the cow. "I am neither milked nor tended. I
have no night fodder in my manger, and no bed has been made under me. My
