he was likely to miss his way, lay a little white down to put him right.
The boy continued faithfully to follow the bits of down. They led him out of the
wood, across a couple of meadows, into a road, and finally through the entrance
of a broad avenue. At the end of the avenue there were gables and towers of red
tiling, decorated with bright borders and other ornamentations that glittered
and shone. When the boy saw that this was some great manor, he thought he knew
what had become of the goosey-gander. "No doubt the children have carried the
goosey-gander to the manor and sold him there. By this time he's probably
butchered," he said to himself. But he did not seem to be satisfied with
anything less than proof positive, and with renewed courage he ran forward. He
met no one in the avenue ­ and that was well, for such as he are generally
afraid of being seen by human beings.
The mansion which he came to was a splendid, old-time structure with four great
wings which inclosed a courtyard. On the east wing, there was a high arch
leading into the courtyard. Thus far the boy had run without hesitation, but
when he was there he stopped. He dared not venture farther, but stood still and
pondered what he should do next.
There he stood, with his finger on his nose, thinking, when he heard footsteps
behind him; and as he turned around he saw a whole company march up the avenue.
Hastily he stole behind a water-barrel which stood near the arch, and hid
himself.
Those who came up were some twenty young men from a folk high-school, out on a
pedestrian tour. They were accompanied by one of the instructors. When they were
come as far as the arch, the teacher requested them to wait there a moment,
while he went in and asked if they might see the old castle of Vittskövle.
The newcomers were warm and tired; as if they had been on a long tramp. One of
them was so thirsty that he went over to the water-barrel and bent down to
drink. He had a tin box, such as botanists use, hanging about his neck. He
evidently thought it was in his way, for he threw it down on the ground. With
that the lid flew open, and one could see that there were a few spring flowers
inside.
The botanist's tin dropped just in front of the boy; and he saw that here was
his opportunity to get into the castle and find out what had become of the
goosey-gander. He quickly smuggled himself into the tin and concealed himself as
well as he could under the anemones and colt's-foot.
He was hardly hidden when the young man picked up the tin, hung it around his
neck, and slammed down the cover.
Then the teacher came back, and said that they had been given permission to
enter the castle. At first he conducted the students only as far as the
courtyard, where he stopped and began to talk to them about this ancient
structure.
He told them of how the first human beings who had inhabited this country, had
been obliged to live in mountain-grottoes and earth-caves; in the dens of wild
beasts, and in the brushwood; and that a very long period had elapsed before
they learned to build themselves huts from the trunks of trees; and afterward,
how long they had been forced to labour and struggle, before they advanced from
the log cabin, with its single room, to the building of a castle with a hundred
rooms ­ like Vittskövle.
It was about three hundred and fifty years ago that the rich and powerful built
such castles for themselves, he said. It was obvious that Vittskövle was erected
at a time when wars and robbers made it unsafe in Skåne. All around the castle
was a deep trench filled with water; and across this there had been a bridge in
bygone days that could be hoisted. Over the gate-arch there was a watch-tower
which stands there even to this day; and all along the sides of the castle ran
sentry-galleries, and in the corners stood towers with walls a metre thick. Yet
this castle was not erected in the most savage war times; for Jens Brahe, who
built it, had taken pains to make of it a beautiful decorative ornament. If they
could see the big, solid stone structure at Glimminge, which was built only a
generation earlier, they would readily see that Jens Holgersen Ulfstand, the
builder, hadn't figured upon anything else than to build big and strong and
secure ­ without bestowing a thought upon making it beautiful and comfortable.
If they visited such castles as Marsvinsholm, Snogeholm and Övid Cloister ­
which were erected a hundred years or so later ­ they would find that the times
had become less warlike. The gentlemen who built these places had not furnished
them with fortifications; but had only taken care to provide themselves with
great, splendid dwelling houses.
The teacher talked at length ­ and in detail; and the boy who lay shut up in the
tin grew pretty impatient; but he must have lain very still, for the owner of
the tin hadn't the least suspicion that he was carrying him along.
Finally the company went into the castle. But if the boy had hoped for a chance
to crawl out of that tin he was mistaken; for the student carried it upon him
all the while, and the boy was obliged to accompany him through all the rooms.
It was a tedious tramp. The teacher stopped every other minute to explain and
instruct.
In one room he found an old fireplace, and before this he stopped to talk about
the different kinds of fireplaces that had been used in the course of time. The
first indoors fireplace was a big, flat stone on the floor of the hut, with an
opening in the roof which let in both wind and rain. The next was a big stone
hearth with no opening in the roof. This must have made the hut very warm, but
it also filled it with soot and smoke. When Vittskövle was built, the people had
advanced far enough to open the fireplace, which, at that time, had a wide
chimney for the smoke; but it also took most of the warmth up in the air with
it.
If that boy had ever in his life been cross and impatient, he was given a good
lesson in patience that day. It must have been a whole hour now that he had lain
perfectly still.
In the next room they came to, the teacher paused before an old-time bed with
its high canopy and rich curtains. Immediately he began to talk about the beds
and bed places of olden days.
The teacher didn't hurry himself; but then he did not know, of course, that a
poor little creature lay shut up in a botanist's tin only waiting for him to get
through. When they came to a room with gilded leather hangings, he talked to
them of how the people had dressed their walls and ceilings ever since the
beginning of time. And when he came upon an old family portrait, he told them
all about the different changes in dress. And in the banquet halls he described
ancient customs of celebrating weddings and funerals.
Thereupon, the teacher talked a little about the excellent men and women who had
lived in the castle; about the old Brahes, and the old Barnekows; of Christian
Barnekow, who had given his horse to the king to help him escape; of Margareta
Ascheberg who had been married to Kjell Barnekow and who, when a widow, had
managed the estates and the whole district for fifty-three years; of banker
Hagerman, a farmer's son from Vittskövle, who had grown so rich that he had
bought the entire estate; about the Stjernsvårds, who had given the people of
Skåne better ploughs, which enabled them to discard the ridiculous old wooden
ploughs that three span of oxen were hardly able to drag. During all this, the
boy lay still. If he had ever been mischievous and shut the cellar door on his
father or mother, he understood now how they had felt; for it was hours and
hours before that teacher got through.
At last the teacher went out into the courtyard again. And there he discoursed
upon the tireless labour of mankind to procure for themselves tools and weapons,
clothes and houses and ornaments. He said that an old castle like Vittskövle was
a mile-post on time's highway. Here one could see how far the people had
advanced three hundred and fifty years ago; and one could judge for one's self
if things had gone forward or backward since their time.
But this dissertation the boy escaped hearing; for the student who carried him
was thirsty again and stole into the kitchen to ask for a drink of water. Now
that the boy had been brought to the kitchen, he should have tried to look
around for the goosey-gander. He had begun to move; and in so doing he happened
to press too hard against the lid ­ and it flew open. Botanists' tin-lids are
always flying open so the student paid no special heed to this, but pressed it
down again. Then the cook asked him if he had a snake in the box.
"No, I have only a few plants," the student replied. "It was certainly something
that moved there," insisted the cook. The student threw back the lid to show her
that she was mistaken. "See for yourself ­ if ­ "
But he got no further, for now the boy dared not stay in the box any longer, but
with a bound he was on the floor, and out he rushed. There was hardly time for
the maids to see what it was that ran, but they hurried after it, nevertheless.
The teacher still stood and talked when he was interrupted by shrill cries.
"Catch him, catch him!" shrieked those who had come from the kitchen; and all
the young students raced after the boy, who scurried away faster than a rat.
They tried to intercept him at the gate, but it was not easy to get hold of such
a little creature, so, luckily, he got out into the open.
The boy did not dare to run down toward the open avenue, but turned in another
direction. He rushed through the garden into the backyard. All the while the
people raced after him, shrieking and laughing. The poor little thing ran as
hard as ever he could to get out of their way; but still it looked as though the
people would catch up with him.
As he was hurrying along past a labourer's cottage, he heard a goose cackle, and
saw a white down lying on the doorstep. There, at last, was the goosey-gander!
He had been on the wrong track before. He thought no more of housemaids and men
who were hounding him, but climbed up the steps into the hallway. Farther he
couldn't have come, for the door was locked. He heard how the goosey-gander
cried and moaned inside, but he couldn't get the door open. The hunters that
were pursuing him came nearer and nearer, and, in the room, the goosey-gander
cried more and more pitifully. In this direst of needs the boy finally plucked
up courage and pounded on the door with all his might.
A child opened it, and the boy looked into the room. In the middle of the floor
sat a woman who held the goosey-gander tight ­ to clip his quill-feathers. It
was her children who had found him, and she didn't want to do him any harm. It
was her intention to let him in among her own geese, as soon as his wings were
clipped, so he couldn't fly away. But a worse fate could hardly have happened to
the goosey-gander, and he shrieked and moaned at the top of his voice.
And a lucky thing it was that the woman hadn't started the clipping sooner. Now
only two quills had fallen under the shears when the door was opened and the
little pigmy stood on the threshold. But a creature like that the woman had
never seen before. She couldn't believe but that it was Goa-Nisse himself; and
in her terror she dropped the shears, clasped her hands ­ and forgot to hold on
to the goosey-gander.
As soon as he felt himself freed, he ran toward the door. He didn't give himself
time to stop; but, as he ran he grabbed the boy by the neckband and carried him
along with him. On the stoop he spread his wings and rose up into the air; at
the same time he made a graceful sweep with his neck and seated the boy on his
smooth, downy back.
And off they flew ­ while all Vittskövle stood and stared after them
IN ÖVID CLOISTER-PARK
ALL that day, while the wild geese played with the fox, the boy lay and slept in
a deserted squirrel nest. When he awoke, toward evening, he felt very anxious.
"Well, now I shall soon be sent home! Then, after all, I'll have to exhibit
myself before father and mother," thought he. But when he looked up and saw the
wild geese, who lay bathing in Vomb Lake, not one of them said a word about his
going. "They probably think the white one is too tired to travel home with me
to-night," thought the boy.
The next morning the geese were awake at daybreak, long before sunrise. Now the
boy felt sure that he'd have to go home; but curiously enough, both he and the
white goosey-gander were permitted to follow the wild ones on their morning
jaunt. The boy couldn't comprehend the reason of the delay, but he figured it
out in this way, that the wild geese did not care to send the goosey-gander on
such a long journey until both had eaten their fill. Come what might, he was
only glad for every moment that should pass before he must face his parents.
The wild geese travelled over Övid Cloister estate, which was situated in a
beautiful park east of the lake, and which looked very imposing with its great
castle; it's well-planned court surrounded by low walls and pavilions; its fine
old-time garden with covered arbours, streams and fountains; its wonderful
trees, trimmed bushes, and its evenly mown lawns with their beds of beautiful
spring flowers.
As the wild geese flew over the estate in the early morning hour there was no
human being about. When they had carefully assured themselves of this, they sank
toward the dog kennel, and shouted: "What kind of a little hut is this? What
kind of a little hut is this?"
Instantly the dog came out of his kennel ­ furiously angry ­ and barked at the
air.
