Nils Holgerssons underbara resa. English

by Selma Lagerlöf

advice.As soon as we light, you'll be requested to do a bit of work which mayseem very easy to you; but beware of doing it!"

  Soon thereafter Fumle-Drumle put Nils Holgersson down in the bottom ofa sandpit. The boy flung himself down, rolled over, and lay there asthough he was simply done up with fatigue. Such a lot of crows flutteredabout him that the air rustled like a wind-storm, but he didn't look up.

  "Thumbietot," said Wind-Rush, "get up now! You shall help us with amatter which will be very easy for you."

  The boy didn't move, but pretended to be asleep. Then Wind-Rush took himby the arm, and dragged him over the sand to an earthen crock ofold-time make, that was standing in the pit. "Get up, Thumbietot," saidhe, "and open this crock!" "Why can't you let me sleep?" said the boy."I'm too tired to do anything to-night. Wait until to-morrow!"

  "Open the crock!" said Wind-Rush, shaking him. "How shall a poor littlechild be able to open such a crock? Why, it's quite as large as I ammyself." "Open it!" commanded Wind-Rush once more, "or it will be asorry thing for you." The boy got up, tottered over to the crock,fumbled the clasp, and let his arms fall. "I'm not usually so weak,"said he. "If you will only let me sleep until morning, I think that I'llbe able to manage with that clasp."

  But Wind-Rush was impatient, and he rushed forward and pinched the boyin the leg. That sort of treatment the boy didn't care to suffer from acrow. He jerked himself loose quickly, ran a couple of paces backward,drew his knife from the sheath, and held it extended in front of him."You'd better be careful!" he cried to Wind-Rush.

  This one too was so enraged that he didn't dodge the danger. He rushedat the boy, just as though he'd been blind, and ran so straight againstthe knife, that it entered through his eye into the head. The boy drewthe knife back quickly, but Wind-Rush only struck out with his wings,then he fell down--dead.

  "Wind-Rush is dead! The stranger has killed our chieftain, Wind-Rush!"cried the nearest crows, and then there was a terrible uproar. Somewailed, others cried for vengeance. They all ran or fluttered up to theboy, with Fumle-Drumle in the lead. But he acted badly as usual. He onlyfluttered and spread his wings over the boy, and prevented the othersfrom coming forward and running their bills into him.

  The boy thought that things looked very bad for him now. He couldn't runaway from the crows, and there was no place where he could hide. Then hehappened to think of the earthen crock. He took a firm hold on theclasp, and pulled it off. Then he hopped into the crock to hide in it.But the crock was a poor hiding place, for it was nearly filled to thebrim with little, thin silver coins. The boy couldn't get far enoughdown, so he stooped and began to throw out the coins.

  Until now the crows had fluttered around him in a thick swarm and peckedat him, but when he threw out the coins they immediately forgot theirthirst for vengeance, and hurried to gather the money. The boy threw outhandfuls of it, and all the crows--yes, even Wind-Air herself--pickedthem up. And everyone who succeeded in picking up a coin ran off to thenest with the utmost speed to conceal it.

  When the boy had thrown out all the silver pennies from the crock heglanced up. Not more than a single crow was left in the sandpit. Thatwas Fumle-Drumle, with the white feather in his wing; he who had carriedThumbietot. "You have rendered me a greater service than youunderstand," said the crow--with a very different voice, and a differentintonation than the one he had used heretofore--"and I want to save yourlife. Sit down on my back, and I'll take you to a hiding place where youcan be secure for to-night. To-morrow, I'll arrange it so that you willget back to the wild geese."

  THE CABIN

  _Thursday, April fourteenth_.

  The following morning when the boy awoke, he lay in a bed. When he sawthat he was in a house with four walls around him, and a roof over him,he thought that he was at home. "I wonder if mother will come soon withsome coffee," he muttered to himself where he lay half-awake. Then heremembered that he was in a deserted cabin on the crow-ridge, and thatFumle-Drumle with the white feather had borne him there the nightbefore.

  The boy was sore all over after the journey he had made the day before,and he thought it was lovely to lie still while he waited forFumle-Drumle who had promised to come and fetch him.

  Curtains of checked cotton hung before the bed, and he drew them asideto look out into the cabin. It dawned upon him instantly that he hadnever seen the mate to a cabin like this. The walls consisted of nothingbut a couple of rows of logs; then the roof began. There was no interiorceiling, so he could look clear up to the roof-tree. The cabin was sosmall that it appeared to have been built rather for such as he than forreal people. However, the fireplace and chimney were so large, hethought that he had never seen larger. The entrance door was in agable-wall at the side of the fireplace, and was so narrow that it wasmore like a wicket than a door. In the other gable-wall he saw a low andbroad window with many panes. There was scarcely any movable furniturein the cabin. The bench on one side, and the table under the window,were also stationary--also the big bed where he lay, and themany-coloured cupboard.

  The boy could not help wondering who owned the cabin, and why it wasdeserted. It certainly looked as though the people who had lived thereexpected to return. The coffee-urn and the gruel-pot stood on thehearth, and there was some wood in the fireplace; the oven-rake andbaker's peel stood in a corner; the spinning wheel was raised on abench; on the shelf over the window lay oakum and flax, a couple ofskeins of yarn, a candle, and a bunch of matches.

  Yes, it surely looked as if those who had lived there had intended tocome back. There were bed-clothes on the bed; and on the walls therestill hung long strips of cloth, upon which three riders named Kasper,Melchior, and Baltasar were painted. The same horses and riders werepictured many times. They rode around the whole cabin, and continuedtheir ride even up toward the joists.

  But in the roof the boy saw something which brought him to his senses ina jiffy. It was a couple of loaves of big bread-cakes that hung thereupon a spit. They looked old and mouldy, but it was bread all the same.He gave them a knock with the oven-rake and one piece fell to the floor.He ate, and stuffed his bag full. It was incredible how good bread was,anyway.

  He looked around the cabin once more, to try and discover if there wasanything else which he might find useful to take along. "I may as welltake what I need, since no one else cares about it," thought he. Butmost of the things were too big and heavy. The only things that hecould carry might be a few matches perhaps.

  He clambered up on the table, and swung with the help of the curtains upto the window-shelf. While he stood there and stuffed the matches intohis bag, the crow with the white feather came in through the window."Well here I am at last," said Fumle-Drumle as he lit on the table. "Icouldn't get here any sooner because we crows have elected a newchieftain in Wind-Rush's place." "Whom have you chosen?" said the boy."Well, we have chosen one who will not permit robbery and injustice. Wehave elected Garm Whitefeather, lately called Fumle-Drumle," answeredhe, drawing himself up until he looked absolutely regal. "That was agood choice," said the boy and congratulated him. "You may well wish meluck," said Garm; then he told the boy about the time they had had withWind-Rush and Wind-Air.

  During this recital the boy heard a voice outside the window which hethought sounded familiar. "Is he here?"--inquired the fox. "Yes, he'shidden in there," answered a crow-voice. "Be careful, Thumbietot!" criedGarm. "Wind-Air stands without with that fox who wants to eat you." Morehe didn't have time to say, for Smirre dashed against the window. Theold, rotten window-frame gave way, and the next second Smirre stood uponthe window-table. Garm Whitefeather, who didn't have time to fly away,he killed instantly. Thereupon he jumped down to the floor, and lookedaround for the boy. He tried to hide behind a big oakum-spiral, butSmirre had already spied him, and was crouched for the final spring. Thecabin was so small, and so low, the boy understood that the fox couldreach him without the least difficulty. But just at that moment the boywas not without weapons of defence. He struck a match quickly, touchedthe curtains, and when they
were in flames, he threw them down uponSmirre Fox. When the fire enveloped the fox, he was seized with a madterror. He thought no more about the boy, but rushed wildly out of thecabin.

  But it looked as if the boy had escaped one danger to throw himself intoa greater one. From the tuft of oakum which he had flung at Smirre thefire had spread to the bed-hangings. He jumped down and tried to smotherit, but it blazed too quickly now. The cabin was soon filled with smoke,and Smirre Fox, who had remained just outside the window, began to graspthe state of affairs within. "Well, Thumbietot," he called out, "whichdo you choose now: to be broiled alive in there, or to come out here tome? Of course, I