He hissed with rage, flew straight at Morten Goosey-Gander and tore out a few feathers.
"I'll teach you a lesson, wild goose," he shrieked, "so that you'll not come again to the swans, togged out in this way!"
"Fly, Morten Goosey-Gander! Fly, fly!" cried Akka, for she knew that otherwise the swans would pull out every feather the goosey-gander had.
"Fly, fly!" screamed Thumbietot, too.
But the goosey-gander was so hedged in by the swans that he had not room enough to spread his wings. All around him the swans stretched their long necks, opened their strong bills, and plucked his feathers.
Morten Goosey-Gander defended himself as best he could, by striking and biting. The wild geese also began to fight the swans.
It was obvious how this would have ended had the geese not received help quite unexpectedly.
A red-tail noticed that they were being roughly treated by the swans. Instantly he cried out the shrill call that little birds use when they need help to drive off a hawk or a falcon.
Three calls had barely sounded when all the little birds in the vicinity came shooting down to Hjälsta Bay, as if on wings of lightning.
These delicate little creatures swooped down upon the swans, screeched in their ears, and obstructed their view with the flutter of their tiny wings. They made them dizzy with their fluttering and drove them to distraction with their cries of "Shame, shame, swans!"
The attack of the small birds lasted but a moment. When they were gone and the swans came to their senses, they saw that the geese had risen and flown over to the other end of the bay.
THE NEW WATCH-DOG
There was this at least to be said in the swans' favour—when they saw that the wild geese had escaped, they were too proud to chase them. Moreover, the geese could stand on a clump of reeds with perfect composure, and sleep.
Nils Holgersson was too hungry to sleep.
"It is necessary for me to get something to eat," he said.
At that time, when all kinds of things were floating on the water, it was not difficult for a little boy like Nils Holgersson to find a craft. He did not stop to deliberate, but hopped down on a stump that had drifted in amongst the reeds. Then he picked up a little stick and began to pole toward shore.
Just as he was landing, he heard a splash in the water. He stopped short. First he saw a lady swan asleep in her big nest quite close to him, then he noticed that a fox had taken a few steps into the water and was sneaking up to the swan's nest.
"Hi, hi, hi! Get up, get up!" cried the boy, beating the water with his stick.
The lady swan rose, but not so quickly but that the fox could have pounced upon her had he cared to. However, he refrained and instead hurried straight toward the boy.
Thumbietot saw the fox coming and ran for his life.
Wide stretches of meadow land spread before him. He saw no tree that he could climb, no hole where he might hide; he just had to keep running.
The boy was a good runner, but it stands to reason that he could not race with a fox!
Not far from the bay there were a number of little cabins, with candle lights shining through the windows. Naturally the boy ran in that direction, but he realized that long before he could reach the nearest cabin the fox would catch up to him.
Once the fox was so close that it looked as if the boy would surely be his prey, but Nils quickly sprang aside and turned back toward the bay. By that move the fox lost time, and before he could reach the boy the latter had run up to two men who were on their way home from work.
The men were tired and sleepy; they had noticed neither boy nor fox, although both had been running right in front of them. Nor did the boy ask help of the men; he was content to walk close beside them.
"Surely the fox won't venture to come up to the men," he thought.
But presently the fox came pattering along. He probably counted on the men taking him for a dog, for he went straight up to them.
"Whose dog can that be sneaking around here?" queried one. "He looks as though he were ready to bite."
The other paused and glanced back.
"Go along with you!" he said, and gave the fox a kick that sent it to the opposite side of the road. "What are you doing here?"
After that the fox kept at a safe distance, but followed all the while.
Presently the men reached a cabin and entered it. The boy intended to go in with them; but when he got to the stoop he saw a big, shaggy watch-dog rush out from his kennel to greet his master. Suddenly the boy changed his mind and remained out in the open.
"Listen, watch-dog!" whispered the boy as soon as the men had shut the door. "I wonder if you would like to help me catch a fox to-night?"
The dog had poor eyesight and had become irritable and cranky from being chained.
"What, I catch a fox?" he barked angrily. "Who are you that makes fun of me? You just come within my reach and I'll teach you not to fool with me!"
"You needn't think that I'm afraid to come near you!" said the boy, running up to the dog.
When the dog saw him he was so astonished that he could not speak.
"I'm the one they call Thumbietot, who travels with the wild geese," said the boy, introducing himself. "Haven't you heard of me?"
"I believe the sparrows have twittered a little about you," the dog returned. "They say that you have done wonderful things for one of your size."
"I've been rather lucky up to the present," admitted the boy. "But now it's all up with me unless you help me! There's a fox at my heels. He's lying in wait for me around the corner."
"Don't you suppose I can smell him?" retorted the dog. "But we'll soon be rid of him!" With that the dog sprang as far as the chain would allow, barking and growling for ever so long. "Now I don't think he will show his face again to-night!" said the dog.
"It will take something besides a fine bark to scare that fox!" the boy remarked. "He'll soon be here again, and that is precisely what I wish, for I have set my heart on your catching him."
"Are you poking fun at me now?" asked the dog.
"Only come with me into your kennel, and I'll tell you what to do."
The boy and the watch-dog crept into the kennel and crouched there, whispering.
By and by the fox stuck his nose out from his hiding place. When all was quiet he crept along cautiously. He scented the boy all the way to the kennel, but halted at a safe distance and sat down to think of some way to coax him out.
Suddenly the watch-dog poked his head out and growled at him:
"Go away, or I'll catch you!"
"I'll sit here as long as I please for all of you!" defied the fox.
"Go away!" repeated the dog threateningly, "or there will be no more hunting for you after to-night."
But the fox only grinned and did not move an inch.
"I know how far your chain can reach," he said.
"I have warned you twice," said the dog, coming out from his kennel.
"Now blame yourself!"
With that the dog sprang at the fox and caught him without the least effort, for he was loose. The boy had unbuckled his collar.
There was a hot struggle, but it was soon over. The dog was the victor.
The fox lay on the ground and dared not move.
"Don't stir or I'll kill you!" snarled the dog. Then he took the fox by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the kennel. There the boy was ready with the chain. He placed the dog collar around the neck of the fox, tightening it so that he was securely chained. During all this the fox had to lie still, for he was afraid to move.
"Now, Smirre Fox, I hope you'll make a good watch-dog," laughed the boy when he had finished.
DUNFIN THE CITY THAT FLOATS ON THE WATER
Friday, May sixth.
No one could be more gentle and kind than the little gray goose Dunfin. All the wild geese loved her, and the tame white goosey-gander would have died for her. When Dunfin asked for anything not even Akka could say no.
As soon as Dunfin came to Lake Mälar the landscape looked familiar to her. Just beyond the lake lay the sea, with many wooded islands, and there, on a little islet, lived her parents and her brothers and sisters. She begged the wild geese to fly to her home before travelling farther north, that she might let her family see that she was still alive. It would be such a joy to them.
Akka frankly declared that she thought Dunfin's parents and brothers and sisters had shown no great love for her when they abandoned her at Öland, but Dunfin would not admit that Akka was in the right. "What else was there to do, when they saw that I could not fly?" she protested. "Surely they couldn't remain at Öland on my account!"
Dunfin began telling the wild geese all about her home in the archipelago, to try to induce them to make the trip. Her family lived on a rock island. Seen from a distance, there appeared to be nothing but stone there; but when one came closer, there were to be found the choicest goose tidbits in clefts and hollows, and one might search long for better nesting places than those that were hidden in the mountain crevices or among the osier bushes. But the best of all was the old fisherman who lived there. Dunfin had heard that in his youth he had been a great shot and had always lain in the offing and hunted birds. But now, in his old age—since his wife had died and the children had gone from home, so that he was alone in the hut—he had begun to care for the birds on his island. He never fired a shot at them, nor would he permit others to do so. He walked around amongst the birds' nests, and when the mother birds were sitting he brought them food. Not one was afraid of him. They all loved him.
Dunfin had been in his hut many times, and he had fed her with bread crumbs. Because he was kind to the birds, they flocked to his island in such great numbers that it was becoming overcrowded. If one happened to arrive a little late in the spring, all the nesting places were occupied. That was why Dunfin's family had been obliged to leave her.
Dunfin begged so hard that she finally had her way, although the wild geese felt that they were losing time and really should be going straight north. But a little trip like this to the cliff island would not delay them more than a day.
So they started off one morning, after fortifying themselves with a good breakfast, and flew eastward over Lake Mälar. The boy did not know for certain where they were going; but he noticed that the farther east they flew, the livelier it was on the lake and the more built up were the shores.
Heavily freighted barges and sloops, boats and fishing smacks were on their way east, and these were met and passed by many pretty white steamers. Along the shores ran country roads and railway tracks—all in the same direction. There was some place beyond in the east where all wished to go to in the morning.
On one of the islands the boy saw a big, white castle, and to the east of it the shores were dotted with villas. At the start these lay far apart, then they became closer and closer, and, presently, the whole shore was lined with them. They were of every variety—here a castle, there a cottage; then a low manor house appeared, or a mansion, with many small towers. Some stood in gardens, but most of them were in the wild woods which bordered the shores. Despite their dissimilarity, they had one point of resemblance—they were not plain and sombre-looking, like other buildings, but were gaudily painted in striking greens and blues, reds and white, like children's playhouses.
As the boy sat on the goose's back and glanced down at the curious shore mansions, Dunfin cried out with delight: "Now I know where I am! Over there lies the City that Floats on the Water."
The boy looked ahead. At first he saw nothing but some light clouds and mists rolling forward over the water, but soon he caught sight of some tall spires, and then one and another house with many rows of windows. They appeared and disappeared—rolling hither and thither—but not a strip of shore did he see! Everything over there appeared to be resting on the water.
Nearer to the city he saw no more pretty playhouses along the shores—only dingy factories. Great heaps of coal and wood were stacked behind tall planks, and alongside black, sooty docks lay bulky freight steamers; but over all was spread a shimmering, transparent mist, which made everything appear so big and strong and wonderful that it was almost beautiful.
The wild geese flew past factories and freight steamers and were nearing the cloud-enveloped spires. Suddenly all the mists sank to the water, save the thin, fleecy ones that circled above their heads, beautifully tinted in blues and pinks. The other clouds rolled over water and land. They entirely obscured the lower portions of the houses: only the upper stories and the roofs and gables were visible. Some of the buildings appeared to be as high as the Tower of Babel. The boy no doubt knew that they were built upon hills and mountains, but these he did not see—only the houses that seemed to float among the white, drifting clouds. In reality the buildings were dark and dingy, for the sun in the east was not shining on them.
The boy knew that he was riding above a large city, for he saw spires and house roofs rising from the clouds in every direction. Sometimes an opening was made in the circling mists, and he looked down into a running, tortuous stream; but no land could he see. All this was beautiful to look upon, but he felt quite distraught—as one does when happening upon something one cannot understand.
When he had gone beyond the city, he found that the ground was no longer hidden by clouds, but that shores, streams, and islands were again plainly visible. He turned to see the city better, but could not, for now it looked quite enchanted. The mists had taken on colour from the sunshine and were rolling forward in the most brilliant reds, blues, and yellows. The houses were white, as if built of light, and the windows and spires sparkled like fire. All things floated on the water as before.
The geese were travelling straight east. They flew over factories and workshops; then over mansions edging the shores. Steamboats and tugs swarmed on the water; but now they came from the east and were steaming westward toward the city.
The wild geese flew on, but instead of the narrow Mälar fiords and the little islands, broader waters and larger islands spread under them. At last the land was left behind and seen no more.
They flew still farther out, where they found no more large inhabited islands—only numberless little rock islands were scattered on the water. Now the fiords were not crowded by the land. The sea lay before them, vast and limitless.
Here the wild geese alighted on a cliff island, and as soon as their feet touched the ground the boy turned to Dunfin.
"What city did we fly over just now?" he asked.
"I don't know what human beings have named it," said Dunfin. "We gray geese call it the 'City that Floats on the Water'."
THE SISTERS
Dunfin had two sisters, Prettywing and Goldeye. They were strong and intelligent birds, but they did not have such a soft and shiny feather dress as Dunfin, nor did they have her sweet and gentle disposition. From the time they had been little, yellow goslings, their parents and relatives and even the old fisherman had plainly shown them that they thought more of Dunfin than of them. Therefore the sisters had always hated her.
When the wild geese landed on the cliff island, Prettywing and Goldeye were feeding on a bit of grass close to the strand, and immediately caught sight of the strangers.
"See, Sister Goldeye, what fine-looking geese have come to our island!" exclaimed Prettywing, "I have rarely seen such graceful birds. Do you notice that they have a white goosey-gander among them? Did you ever set eyes on a handsomer bird? One could almost take him for a swan!"
Goldeye agreed with her sister that these were certainly very distinguished strangers that had come to the island, but suddenly she broke off and called: "Sister Prettywing! Oh, Sister Prettywing! Don't you see whom they bring with them?"
Prettywing also caught sight of Dunfin and was so astounded that she stood for a long time with her bill wide open, and only hissed.
"It can't be possible that it is she! How did she manage to get in with people of that class? Why, we left her at Öland to freeze a
nd starve."
"The worse of it is she will tattle to father and mother that we flew so close to her that we knocked her wing out of joint," said Goldeye. "You'll see that it will end in our being driven from the island!"
"We have nothing but trouble in store for us, now that that young one has come back!" snapped Prettywing. "Still I think it would be best for us to appear as pleased as possible over her return. She is so stupid that perhaps she didn't even notice that we gave her a push on purpose."
While Prettywing and Goldeye were talking in this strain, the wild geese had been standing on the strand, pluming their feathers after the flight. Now they marched in a long line up the rocky shore to the cleft where Dunfin's parents usually stopped.
Dunfin's parents were good folk. They had lived on the island longer than any one else, and it was their habit to counsel and aid all newcomers. They too had seen the geese approach, but they had not recognized Dunfin in the flock.
"It is strange to see wild geese land on this island," remarked the goose-master. "It is a fine flock—that one can see by their flight."
"But it won't be easy to find pasturage for so many," said the goose-wife, who was gentle and sweet-tempered, like Dunfin.
When Akka came marching with her company, Dunfin's parents went out to meet her and welcome her to the island. Dunfin flew from her place at the end of the line and lit between her parents.
"Mother and father, I'm here at last!" she cried joyously. "Don't you know Dunfin?"
At first the old goose-parents could not quite make out what they saw, but when they recognized Dunfin they were absurdly happy, of course.
While the wild geese and Morten Goosey-Gander and Dunfin were chattering excitedly, trying to tell how she had been rescued, Prettywing and Goldeye came running. They cried "welcome" and pretended to be so happy because Dunfin was at home that she was deeply moved.