and warned them with loud shrieks; but in spite of this they flew back and forth
over the shallows several times. They held themselves so high that they were
beyond shooting distance; still the farm-hand let himself be tempted to shoot at
them. These shots were hardly fired when the little creature ran up on land,
drew a tiny knife from its sheath, and, with a two quick strokes, cut loose
Jarro's halter. "Now fly away, Jarro, before the man has time to load again!"
cried he, while he himself ran down to the grebe-nest and poled away from the
shore.
The hunter's gaze was fixed upon the geese, and he hadn't noticed that Jarro had
been freed; but Cæsar knew what had happened; and just as Jarro lifted his
wings, he dashed forward and grabbed him by the neck.
Jarro cried pitifully; and the boy who had freed him said quietly to Cæsar: "If
you are just as honourable as you look, surely you cannot wish to force a good
bird to sit here and entice others into trouble."
When Cæsar heard these words, he grinned viciously with his upper lip, but the
next second he dropped Jarro. "Fly, Jarro!" said he. "You are certainly too good
to be a decoy-duck. It wasn't for this that I wanted to keep you here; but
because it will be lonely in the cottage without you."
THE LOWERING OF THE LAKE
Wednesday, April twentieth.
IT WAS indeed very lonely in the cottage without Jarro. The dog and the cat
found the time long, when they didn't have him to wrangle over; and the
housewife missed the glad quacking with which he had welcomed her every time she
entered the house. But the one who longed most for Jarro was the little boy, Per
Ola. He was but three years old, and the only child; and in all his life he had
never had a playmate like Jarro. When he heard that Jarro had gone back to
Tåkern and the wild ducks, he couldn't be reconciled to this, but thought
constantly of how he should get him back again.
Per Ola had talked a good deal with Jarro, while he lay in his basket, and he
was certain that the duck had understood him. He begged his mother to take him
down to the lake that he might find Jarro, and persuade him to come back to
them. Mother wouldn't listen to this; but the little one didn't give up his plan
for all that.
The day after Jarro had disappeared, Per Ola was running about in the yard. He
played by himself, as usual, while Cæsar lay on the stoop; and when mother let
the boy out, she said: "Take good care of Per Ola, Cæsar!"
Now if all had been as usual, Cæsar would have obeyed the command, and the boy
would have been so well guarded that he couldn't have run the least risk. But
Cæsar was not like himself these days. He knew that the farmers who lived around
Tåkern had held frequent conferences about the lowering of the lake; and that
the matter was almost settled. The ducks must leave and Cæsar would nevermore
behold a glorious chase. He was so preoccupied with the thought of this
misfortune, that he did not remember to watch over Per Ola.
The little one had scarcely been alone in the yard a minute, before he realised
that now the right moment was come to go down to Tåkern and talk with Jarro. He
opened the gate, and wandered down toward the lake on the narrow path which ran
along the banks. As long as he could be seen from the house, he walked slowly;
but afterward he quickened his stride. He was very much afraid that mother, or
some one else, should call to him that he couldn't go. He didn't wish to do
anything naughty, only to persuade Jarro to come home; but he felt that the
folks at home would not have approved of the undertaking.
When Per Ola came down to the shore, he called Jarro many times. Thereupon he
stood a long while and waited, but no Jarro appeared. He saw several birds that
resembled the wild duck, but they flew by without noticing him, and he could
understand that none among them was the right one.
When Jarro didn't come to him, the little boy thought that it would be easier to
find him were he to go out on the lake. There were several good craft lying
along the shore, but these were tied. The one that lay loose, and at liberty,
was an old leaky scow which was so unfit that no one thought of using it. But
Per Ola scrambled into it not caring that the whole bottom was filled with
water. He had not strength enough to use the oars, but, instead, sat down and
began to rock the scow. Certainly no grown person would have succeeded in moving
a boat out on Tåkern in that manner; but when the tide is high and ill-luck to
the fore, little children have a marvellous faculty for getting out to sea. Per
Ola was soon drifting around on Tåkern, calling for Jarro.
While the old scow was being rocked like this, out to sea, the cracks opened
wider and wider, and the water actually streamed into it. Per Ola didn't pay the
slightest attention to this. He sat upon the little bench in front and called to
every bird he saw, and wondered why Jarro didn't appear.
At last Jarro caught sight of Per Ola. He heard that some one called him by the
name which he had borne among human beings, and he understood that the boy had
gone out on Tåkern to search for him. Jarro was unspeakably happy to find that
one of the humans really loved him. He shot down toward Per Ola like an arrow,
seated himself beside him, and let him caress him. They were very happy to see
each other again. But suddenly Jarro noticed the condition of the scow. It was
half filled with water, and almost ready to sink. Jarro tried to tell Per Ola
that he, who could neither fly nor swim, must try to get upon land; but Per Ola
didn't understand him. Then Jarro did not wait an instant, but hurried away to
get help.
In a little while he returned, carrying on his back a tiny creature who was much
smaller than Per Ola himself. Had he not been able to talk and move, the boy
would have believed that it was a doll. Instantly, the little one ordered Per
Ola to pick up a long, slender pole that lay in the bottom of the scow, and try
to paddle toward one of the reed-islands. Per Ola obeyed him, and he and the
tiny creature together steered the scow. With a couple of strokes they were over
by a little reed-encircled island, and now Per Ola was told that he must step
ashore. And just the very moment that Per Ola set foot on land, the scow filled
up with water, and sank to the bottom.
When Per Ola saw this he was sure that his father and mother would be very angry
with him. He would have started in to cry if he hadn't just then found something
else to think of: A flock of big, gray birds suddenly lighted on the island. The
little midget took him over to them, and told him their names, and what they
said. And this was so funny that Per Ola forgot everything else.
Meanwhile the folks on the farm had discovered that the boy was missing, and
were searching for him. They searched the outhouses, looked in the well, and
hunted through the cellar. Then they went out into highways and by-paths;
wandered to the neighbouring farm to find out if he had strayed over there, and
they searched for him also down by Tåkern. But no matter where they sought they
did not find him.
The dog Cæsar understood very well that the farmer-folk were looking for Per
Ola, but he did nothing to put them on the right track; instead he lay still, as
if the matter didn't concern him.
Later in the day, Per Ola's footprints were discovered down by the boat-landing.
Then they found that the old, leaky scow was no longer on the strand. And now
they began to understand how it had all come about.
The farmer and his helpers immediately took out the boats and went in search of
the boy. They rowed around on Tåkern until late in the evening, without seeing
the least shadow of him. They couldn't help believing that the old scow had gone
down, and that the little one lay dead at the bottom of the lake.
All the evening, Per Ola's mother hunted round on the strand. Every one else was
convinced that the boy was drowned, but she could not bring herself to believe
that. She searched all the while. She searched between reeds and bullrushes;
tramped and tramped on the muddy shore, never thinking of how deep her foot
sank, or how wet she had become. She was unspeakably desperate. Her heart ached
in her breast. She did not weep, but wrung her hands and called for her child in
loud piercing tones.
Round about her she heard swans' and ducks' and curlews' shrieks. She thought
that they followed her, and moaned and wailed ­ they too. "Surely, they, too,
must be in trouble, since they moan so." Then she remembered: these were the
only birds that she heard complain. They surely had no worries.
It was strange that they did not quiet down after sunset. She heard all these
uncountable bird-throngs which lived along Tåkern send forth cry upon cry.
Several of them followed her wherever she went; others came rustling past on
light wings. All the air was filled with moans and lamentations.
But the anguish which she herself was suffering opened her heart. She felt that
she was not so far removed from all other living creatures as people usually
think. She understood better than ever before, how birds fared. They had their
constant worries for home and children, they, as she. There was certainly not
such a great difference between them and her as she had heretofore believed.
Then she happened to think that it was as good as settled that these thousands
of swans and ducks and loons would lose their homes here by Tåkern. "It will be
very hard for them," she thought. "Where shall they bring up their children
now?"
She paused and pondered: It appeared to be an excellent and agreeable
accomplishment to change a lake into fields and meadows, but let it be some
other lake than Tåkern; some other lake, which was not the home of so many
thousand creatures.
She remembered how on the following day the proposition to lower the lake was to
be decided, and she wondered if this was why her little son had been lost ­ just
to-day.
Was it God's meaning that sorrow should come to open her heart ­ just to-day ­
before it was too late to avert the cruel act?
She walked rapidly up to the house, and began to talk with her husband about
this. She spoke of the lake, and of the birds, and said that she believed it was
God's judgment on them both. And she soon found that he was of the same opinion.
They already owned a large place, but if the lake-draining were carried into
effect, such a goodly portion of the lake-bottom would fall to their share that
their property would be nearly doubled. For this reason they had been more eager
for the undertaking than any of the other shore owners. The others had been
worried about expenses, and anxious lest the draining should not prove any more
successful this time than it was the last. Per Ola's father knew in his heart
that it was he who had influenced them to undertake the work. He had exercised
all his eloquence, so that he might leave to his son a farm as large again as
his father had left to him.
He stood and pondered if God's hand was back of the fact that Tåkern had taken
his son from him on the day before he was to have drawn up the contract to lay
it waste. The wife didn't have to say many words to him, before he answered: "It
may be that God does not want us to interfere with His order. I'll talk with the
others about this to-morrow, and I think we'll decide that all may remain as it
is."
While the farmer-folk were talking this over, Cæsar lay before the fire. He
raised his head and listened very attentively. When he thought that he was sure
of the outcome, he walked up to the mistress, took her by the skirt, and led her
to the door. "But Cæsar!" said she, trying to break away from him, "do you know
where Per Ola is?" she cried out. Cæsar barked joyfully, and threw himself
against the door. She opened it, and the dog dashed down toward Tåkern. The
mistress was so positive he knew where Per Ola was, that she rushed after him.
And no sooner had they reached the shore than they heard a child's cry out on
the lake.
Per Ola had had the best day of his life, in company with Thumbietot and the
birds; but now he had begun to cry because he was hungry and afraid of the
darkness. And he was glad when father and mother and Cæsar came for him.
[Next]
Chapter XX.
"Chapter XX." 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. 250-256.
CHAPTER TWENTY
ULVÅSA-LADY
THE PROPHECY
Friday, April twenty-second.
ONE night, when the boy lay sleeping on an island in Tåkern, he was awakened by
oar-strokes. He had hardly got his eyes open when there fell such a dazzling
light on them that it made him blink.
At first he couldn't make out what it was that shone so brightly out here on the
lake; but he soon saw that a scow, with a big burning torch set up on a spike,
aft, lay near the edge of the reeds. The red flame from the torch was clearly
reflected in the night-dark lake; and the brilliant light must have tempted the
fish, for in the water were seen a mass of dark specks that moved continually,
and changed places.
There were two old men in the scow. One sat at the oars, and the other stood on
a bench in the stern and held in his hand a short spear, which was coarsely
barbed. The one who rowed was apparently a poor fisherman. He was small,
dried-up, and weather-beaten, and wore a thin, threadbare coat. It was plain
