their wings and honking. They danced before his eyes and they buzzed in his
ears. He didn't know whether they flew high or low, or in what direction they
were travelling.
After a bit, he regained just enough sense to understand that he ought to find
out where the geese were taking him. But this was not so easy, for he didn't
know how he should ever muster up courage enough to look down. He was sure he'd
faint if he attempted it.
The wild geese were not flying very high because the new travelling companion
could not breathe in the very thinnest air. For his sake, they also flew a
little slower than usual.
At last the boy just made himself cast one glance down to earth. Then he fancied
that a great big rug lay spread beneath him, which was made up of an incredible
number of large and small checks.
"Where in all the world am I now?" he wondered.
He saw nothing but check upon check. Some were broad and ran crosswise, and some
were long and narrow ­ all over there were angles and corners. Nothing was
round, and nothing was crooked.
"What kind of a big, checked cloth is this, that I'm looking down on?" said the
boy to himself without expecting any one to answer him.
But instantly, the wild geese who circled around him called out: "Fields and
meadows. Fields and meadows."
Then he understood that the big, checked cloth he was travelling over was the
flat land of southern Sweden; and he began to comprehend why it looked so
checked and multi-coloured. The bright green checks he recognised first; they
were rye-fields that had been sown in the fall, and had kept themselves green
under the winter snows. The yellowish-gray checks were stubble-fields ­ the
remains of the oat-crop which had grown there the summer before. The brownish
ones were old clover meadows: and the black ones, deserted grazing lands or
ploughed-up fallow pastures. The brown checks with the yellow edges were surely
beech-tree forests; for in these you'll find the big trees which grow in the
heart of the forest, naked in winter; while the little beech-trees, which grow
along the borders, keep their dry, yellowed leaves far into the spring. There
were also dark checks with gray centres: these were the large, built-up estates
encircled by the small cottages with their blackening straw roofs, and their
stone-divided land-plots. And then there were checks green in the middle with
brown borders: these were the orchards, where the grass-carpets were already
turning green, although the trees and bushes around them were still in their
nude brown bark.
The boy could not keep from laughing when he saw how checked everything looked.
But when the wild geese heard him laugh, they called out kind o' reprovingly:
"Fertile and good land. Fertile and good land."
The boy had already become serious. "To think that you can laugh; you, who have
met with the most terrible misfortune that can possibly befall a human being!"
thought he. And for a moment he was quite solemn; but before long he was
laughing again.
Now that he had grown somewhat accustomed to the ride and the speed, so that he
could think of something besides holding himself on the gander's back, he began
to notice how full the air was of birds flying northward. And there was a
shouting and a calling from flock to flock. "So you came over to-day?" shrieked
some. "Yes," answered the geese. "How do you think the spring's getting on?"
"Not a leaf on the trees and ice-cold water in the lakes," came back the answer.
When the geese flew over a place where they saw any tame, half-naked fowl, they
shouted: "What's the name of this place? What's the name of this place?" Then
the roosters cocked their heads and answered: "Its name's Lillgarde this year ­
the same as last year; the same as last year."
Most of the cottages were probably named after their owners, which is the custom
in Skåne. But instead of saying this is "Per Matssons," or "Ola Bossons," the
roosters hit upon the kind of names which, to their way of thinking, were more
appropriate. Those who lived on small farms and belonged to poor cottagers
cried: "This place is called Grainscarce." And those who belonged to the poorest
hut-dwellers screamed: "The name of this place is Little-to-eat, Little-to-eat,
Little-to-eat."
The big, well-cared-for farms got high-sounding names from the roosters ­ such
as Luckymeadow, Eggberga and Moneyville.
But the roosters on the great landed estates were too high and mighty to
condescend to anything like jesting. One of them crowed and called out with such
gusto that it sounded as if he wanted to be heard clear up to the sun: "This is
Herr Dybeck's estate; the same this year as last year; this year as last year."
A little further on strutted one rooster that crowed: "This is Swanholm, surely
all the world knows that!"
The boy observed that the geese did not fly straight forward; but zigzagged
hither and thither over the whole South country, as if they were glad to be in
Skåne again and wanted to pay their respects to every single place.
They came to one place where there were a number of big, clumsy-looking
buildings, with great, tall chimneys, and all around these were a lot of little
houses. "This is Jordberga Sugar Refinery," cried the roosters. The boy
shuddered as he sat there on the goose's back. He should have recognised this
locality, for it was not very far from his home.
Here he had worked the year before as a watch boy; but, to be sure, nothing was
quite the same when seen like that ­ from up above.
And think! Just think! Osa the goose girl and little Mats had been his comrades
last year! Indeed the boy would have been glad to know if they were still
anywhere about here. Fancy what they would have said, had they suspected that he
was flying over their heads!
Soon Jordberga was lost to sight, and they travelled towards Svedala and Skaber
Lake and back again over Böringe Cloister and Häckeberga. The boy saw more of
Skåne in this one day than he had ever seen before in all the years that he had
lived.
When the wild geese happened across any tame geese, they had the best fun! Then
they flew forward very slowly and called down: "We're off to the hills. Are you
coming along? Are you coming along?"
But the tame geese answered: "It's still winter in this country. You're out too
soon. Fly back! Fly back!"
The wild geese flew lower that they might be heard a little better, and called:
"Come along! We'll teach you how to fly and swim."
Then the tame geese got mad and wouldn't answer them with a single honk.
The wild geese sank lower and lower until they almost touched the ground ­ then,
quick as lightning, they rose as if they'd been terribly frightened. "Oh, oh,
oh!" they exclaimed. "Those creatures were not geese. They were only sheep, they
were only sheep."
The ones on the ground were beside themselves with rage, and shrieked: "May you
be shot, the whole lot o' you! The whole lot o' you!"
When the boy heard all this teasing he laughed. Then he remembered how badly
things had gone with him, and cried. But the next second, he was laughing again.
Never before had he ridden so fast; and to ride fast and recklessly ­ that he
had always liked. And, of course, he had never dreamed that it could be so fresh
and bracing as it was up in the air; or that there arose from the earth such a
fine scent of resin and soil. Nor had he ever dreamed what it would be like to
ride so high above the earth. It was just like flying away from sorrow and
trouble and annoyances of every kind that could be thought of.
[Next]
This chapter has been put on-line as part of the BUILD-A-BOOK Initiative at the
Celebration of Women Writers.
Initial text entry and proof-reading of this chapter were the work of volunteers
Julie Barnard and Rebekah Neely.
Chapter II.
"Chapter II." 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. 22-44.
CHAPTER TWO
AKKA FROM KEBNEKAISE
EVENING
THE big tame goosey-gander, that had followed them up in the air, felt very
proud of being allowed to travel back and forth over the south country with the
wild geese, and crack jokes with the tame birds. But happy as he was he began to
grow tired as the afternoon wore on. He tried to take deeper breaths and quicker
wing-strokes, but even so he remained several goose-lengths behind the others.
When the wild geese who flew last noticed that the tame one couldn't keep up
with them, they began to call to the goose who flew in the centre of the wedge
and led the procession: "Akka from Kebnekaise! Akka from Kebnekaise!" "What do
you want of me?" asked the leader. "The white one will be left behind; the white
one will be left behind." "Tell him it's easier to fly fast than slow!" shouted
the leader, and raced on as before.
The goosey-gander certainly tried to follow the advice, and increased his speed;
but soon he became so exhausted that he sank away down to the drooping willows
that bordered the fields and meadows.
"Akka, Akka, Akka from Kebnekaise!" cried those who flew last and saw what a
hard time he was having. "What do you want now?" asked the leader ­ and she
sounded awfully angry. "The white one sinks to the earth; the white one sinks to
the earth." "Tell him it's easier to fly high than low!" shouted the leader, and
she didn't slow up the least little bit, but raced on as before.
The goosey-gander tried also to follow this advice; but when he wanted to rise,
he became so winded that he almost burst his breast.
"Akka, Akka!" again cried those who flew last. "Can't you let me fly in peace?"
snapped the leader, and she sounded even madder than before.
"The white one is ready to collapse." "Tell him that he who has not the strength
to fly with the flock, can go back home!" cried the leader. She certainly had no
notion of decreasing her speed ­ but raced on as before.
"Oh! is that the way the wind blows!" thought the goosey-gander. He understood
at once that the wild geese had no idea of taking him along up to Lapland. They
had only lured him away from home in sport.
He felt thoroughly exasperated. To think that his strength should fail him now,
so he wouldn't be able to show these tramps that even a tame goose was good for
something! But the most provoking of all was that he had fallen in with Akka
from Kebnekaise. Tame goose that he was, he had heard about a leader goose,
named Akka, who was more than a hundred years old. She had such a big name that
the best wild geese in the world followed her. But none had such a contempt for
tame geese as Akka and her flock, and he would gladly have shown them that he
was their equal.
He flew slowly behind the rest, while deliberating whether he should turn back
or continue. Finally, the little creature that he carried on his back said:
"Dear Morten Goosey-gander, you know well enough that it is simply impossible
for you, who have never flown, to go with the wild geese all the way up to
Lapland. Won't you turn back before you kill yourself?"
But the farmer's lad was about the worst thing the goosey-gander knew of, and as
soon as it dawned on him that this puny creature actually believed that he
couldn't make the trip, he decided to stick it out. "If you say another word
about this, I'll drop you into the first ditch we ride over!" said he, and at
the same time his fury gave him so much strength that he began to fly almost as
well as any of the others.
It isn't likely that he could have kept up this speed very long, nor was it
necessary; for, just then, the sun sank quickly; and at sunset the geese flew
down, and before the boy or the goosey-gander knew what had happened, they stood
on the shores of Vomb Lake.
"They probably intend that we shall spend the night here," thought the boy as he
jumped down from the goose's back.
He stood now on a narrow beach by a fair-sized lake. It was ugly to look upon,
because it was almost entirely covered with an ice-crust that was blackened and
uneven and full of cracks and holes ­ as spring ice generally is.
The ice was already breaking up. It was loose and floating with a broad belt of
dark, shiny water all around it; but there was still enough of it left to spread
chill and winter terror over the place.
On the other side of the lake there appeared to be an open and light country,
but where the geese had alighted there was a thick pine-growth. It looked as if
the forest of firs and pines had the power to bind the winter to itself.
Everywhere else the ground was bare; but beneath the sharp pine-branches lay
snow that had been melting and freezing, melting and freezing, till it was as
hard as ice.
The boy thought he had struck an arctic wilderness, and he was so miserable that
he wanted to scream. He was hungry too. He hadn't eaten a bite the whole day.
But where should he find any food? Nothing eatable grew on either ground or tree
in the month of March.
Yes, where was he to find food, and who would give him shelter, and who would
fix his bed, and who would protect him from the wild beasts?
For now the sun was away and frost came from the lake, and darkness sank down
from heaven, and terror stole forward on the twilight's trail, and in the forest
it began to patter and rustle.
