rapidly, that the boy fairly gasped.Before he had time to think that he ought to let go his hold around thegander's neck, he was so high up that he would have been killedinstantly, if he had fallen to the ground.
The only thing that he could do to make himself a little morecomfortable, was to try and get upon the gander's back. And there hewriggled himself forthwith; but not without considerable trouble. And itwas not an easy matter, either, to hold himself secure on the slipperyback, between two swaying wings. He had to dig deep into feathers anddown with both hands, to keep from tumbling to the ground.
THE BIG CHECKED CLOTH
The boy had grown so giddy that it was a long while before he came tohimself. The winds howled and beat against him, and the rustle offeathers and swaying of wings sounded like a whole storm. Thirteen geeseflew around him, flapping their wings and honking. They danced beforehis eyes and they buzzed in his ears. He didn't know whether they flewhigh or low, or in what direction they were travelling.
After a bit, he regained just enough sense to understand that he oughtto 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 lookdown. He was sure he'd faint if he attempted it.
The wild geese were not flying very high because the new travellingcompanion could not breathe in the very thinnest air. For his sake theyalso flew a little slower than usual.
At last the boy just made himself cast one glance down to earth. Then hethought that a great big rug lay spread beneath him, which was made upof 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 anyone to answer him.
But instantly the wild geese who flew about him called out: "Fields andmeadows. Fields and meadows."
Then he understood that the big, checked cloth he was travelling overwas the flat land of southern Sweden; and he began to comprehend why itlooked so checked and multi-coloured. The bright green checks herecognised first; they were rye fields that had been sown in the fall,and had kept themselves green under the winter snows. The yellowish-graychecks were stubble-fields--the remains of the oat-crop which had grownthere the summer before. The brownish ones were old clover meadows: andthe black ones, deserted grazing lands or ploughed-up fallow pastures.The brown checks with the yellow edges were, undoubtedly, beech-treeforests; for in these you'll find the big trees which grow in the heartof the forest--naked in winter; while the little beech-trees, which growalong the borders, keep their dry, yellowed leaves way 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 blackeningstraw roofs, and their stone-divided land-plots. And then there werechecks green in the middle with brown borders: these were the orchards,where the grass-carpets were already turning green, although the treesand bushes around them were still in their nude, brown bark.
The boy could not keep from laughing when he saw how checked everythinglooked.
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 happento a human being!" thought he. And for a moment he was pretty serious;but it wasn't long before he was laughing again.
Now that he had grown somewhat accustomed to the ride and the speed, sothat he could think of something besides holding himself on the gander'sback, 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 cameover to-day?" shrieked some. "Yes," answered the geese. "How do youthink the spring's getting on?" "Not a leaf on the trees and ice-coldwater in the lakes," came back the answer.
When the geese flew over a place where they saw any tame, half-nakedfowl, they shouted: "What's the name of this place? What's the name ofthis place?" Then the roosters cocked their heads and answered: "Itsname's Lillgarde this year--the same as last year."
Most of the cottages were probably named after their owners--which isthe custom in Skane. But instead of saying this is "Per Matssons," or"Ola Bossons," the roosters hit upon the kind of names which, to theirway of thinking, were more appropriate. Those who lived on small farms,and belonged to poor cottagers, cried: "This place is calledGrainscarce." And those who belonged to the poorest hut-dwellersscreamed: "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 theroosters--such as Luckymeadows, Eggberga and Moneyville.
But the roosters on the great landed estates were too high and mighty tocondescend to anything like jesting. One of them crowed and called outwith such gusto that it sounded as if he wanted to be heard clear up tothe 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 who crowed: "This is Swanholm,surely all the world knows that!"
The boy observed that the geese did not fly straight forward; butzigzagged hither and thither over the whole South country, just asthough they were glad to be in Skane again and wanted to pay theirrespects to every separate place.
They came to one place where there were a number of big, clumsy-lookingbuildings with great, tall chimneys, and all around these were a lot ofsmaller houses. "This is Jordberga Sugar Refinery," cried the roosters.The boy shuddered as he sat there on the goose's back. He ought to haverecognised this place, 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 exactly like itself when one saw it like that--from upabove.
And think! Just think! Osa the goose girl and little Mats, who were hiscomrades last year! Indeed the boy would have been glad to know if theystill were anywhere about here. Fancy what they would have said, hadthey suspected that he was flying over their heads!
Soon Jordberga was lost to sight, and they travelled towards Svedala andSkaber Lake and back again over Goerringe Cloister and Haeckeberga. Theboy saw more of Skane in this one day than he had ever seen before--inall the years that he had lived.
Whenever the wild geese happened across any tame geese, they had thebest fun! They flew forward very slowly and called down: "We're off tothe hills. Are you coming along? Are you coming along?"
But the tame geese answered: "It's still winter in this country. You'reout too soon. Fly back! Fly back!"
The wild geese lowered themselves that they might be heard a littlebetter, 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 themselves still lower--until they almost touchedthe ground--then, quick as lightning, they raised themselves, just as ifthey'd been terribly frightened. "Oh, oh, oh!" they exclaimed. "Thosethings 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 howbadly things had gone with him, and he cried. But the next second, hewas laughing again.
Never before had he ridden so fast; and to ride fast andrecklessly--that he had always liked. And, of course, he had neverdreamed that it could be as fresh and bracing as it was, up in the air;or that there rose from the earth such a fine scent of resin and soil.Nor had he ever dreamed what it could be like--to ride so high above theearth. It was just like flying away from sorrow and trouble andannoyances of every kind that could be thought of.
AKKA FROM KEB
NEKAISE
EVENING
The big tame goosey-gander that had followed them up in the air, feltvery proud of being permitted to travel back and forth over the Southcountry with the wild geese, and crack jokes with the tame birds. But inspite of his keen delight, he began to tire as the afternoon wore on. Hetried to take deeper breaths and quicker wing-strokes, but even so heremained several goose-lengths behind the others.
When the wild geese who flew last, noticed that the tame one couldn'tkeep up with them, they began to call to the goose who rode in thecentre of the angle and led the procession: "Akka from Kebnekaise! Akkafrom Kebnekaise!" "What do you want of me?" asked the leader. "The whiteone will be left behind; the white one will be left behind." "Tell
Nils Holgerssons underbara resa. English Page 4
