“It may be because I want to show you wild geese that we tame ones may also be good for something,” said the goosey-gander.
“Yes, it would be well if you could show us that,” said the leader-goose. “We have already observed how much you know about flying; but you are more skilled, perhaps, in other sports. Possibly you are strong in a swimming match?”
“No, I can’t boast that I am,” said the goosey-gander. It seemed to him that the leader-goose had already made up her mind to send him home, so he didn’t much care how he answered. “I never swam any farther than across a marl-ditch,” he continued.
“Then I presume you’re a crack sprinter,” said the goose.
“I have never seen a tame goose run, nor have I ever done it myself,” said the goosey-gander; and he made things appear much worse than they really were.
The big white one was sure now that the leader-goose would say that under no circumstances could they take him along. He was very much astonished when she said: “You answer questions courageously; and he who has courage can become a good travelling companion, even if he is ignorant in the beginning. What do you say to stopping with us for a couple of days, until we can see what you are good for?”
“That suits me!” said the goosey-gander—and he was thoroughly happy.
Thereupon the leader-goose pointed with her bill and said: “But who is that you have with you? I’ve never seen anything like him before.”
“That’s my comrade,” said the goosey-gander. “He’s been a goose-tender all his life. He’ll be useful all right to take with us on the trip.”
“Yes, he may be all right for a tame goose,” answered the wild one. “What do you call him?”
“He has several names,” said the goosey-gander—hesitantly, not knowing what he should hit upon in a hurry, for he didn’t want to reveal the fact that the boy had a human name. “Oh! his name is Thumbietot,” he said at last.
“Does he belong to the elf family?” asked the leader-goose.
“At what time do you wild geese usually retire?” said the goosey-gander quickly—trying to evade that last question. “My eyes close of their own accord about this time.”
One could easily see that the goose who talked with the gander was very old. Her entire feather outfit was ice-gray, without any dark streaks. The head was larger, the legs coarser, and the feet were more worn than any of the others. The feathers were stiff; the shoulders knotty; the neck thin. All this was due to age. It was only upon the eyes that time had had no effect. They shone brighter—as if they were younger—than any of the others!
She turned, very haughtily, toward the goosey-gander. “Understand, Mr. Tame-goose, that I am Akka from Kebnekaise! And that the goose who flies nearest me—to the right—is Iksi from Vassijaure, and the one to the left, is Kaksi from Nuolja! Understand, also, that the second right-hand goose is Kolmi from Sarjektjakko, and the second, left, is Neljä from Svappavaara; and behind them fly Viisi from Oviksfjällen and Kuusi from Sjangeli! And know that these, as well as the six goslings who fly last—three to the right, and three to the left—are all high mountain geese of the finest breed! You must not take us for landlubbers who strike up a chance acquaintance with any and everyone! And you must not think that we permit anyone to share our quarters, that will not tell us who his ancestors were.”
When Akka, the leader-goose, talked in this way, the boy stepped briskly forward. It had distressed him that the goosey-gander, who had spoken up so glibly for himself, should give such evasive answers when it concerned him. “I don’t care to make a secret of who I am,” said he. “My name is Nils Holgersson. I’m a farmer’s son, and, until today, I have been a human being; but this morning—” He got no further. As soon as he had said that he was human the leader-goose staggered three steps backward, and the rest of them even farther back. They all extended their necks and hissed angrily at him.
“I have suspected this ever since I first saw you here on these shores,” said Akka; “and now you can clear out of here at once. We tolerate no human beings among us.”
“It isn’t possible,” said the goosey-gander, meditatively, “that you wild geese can be afraid of anyone who is so tiny! By tomorrow, of course, he’ll turn back home. You can surely let him stay with us overnight. None of us can afford to let such a poor little creature wander off by himself in the night—among weasels and foxes!”
The wild goose came nearer. But it was evident that it was hard for her to master her fear. “I have been taught to fear everything in human shape—be it big or little,” said she. “But if you will answer for this one, and swear that he will not harm us, he can stay with us tonight. But I don’t believe our night quarters are suitable either for him or you, for we intend to roost on the broken ice out here.”
She thought, of course, that the goosey-gander would be doubtful when he heard this, but he never let on. “She is pretty wise who knows how to choose such a safe bed,” said he.
“You will be answerable for his return to his own tomorrow.”
“Then I, too, will have to leave you,” said the goosey-gander. “I have sworn that I would not forsake him.”
“You are free to fly whither you will,” said the leader-goose.
With this, she raised her wings and flew out over the ice and one after another the wild geese followed her.
The boy was very sad to think that his trip to Lapland would not come off, and, in the bargain, he was afraid of the chilly night quarters. “It will be worse and worse,” said he. “In the first place, we’ll freeze to death
