In the beginning the boy took very little interest in that province. He thought there was nothing new to be seen there. But when the wild geese continued the journey farther south, along the narrow coastlands, the boy leaned over the goose’s neck and did not take his glance from the ground.
He saw the hills gradually disappear and the plain spread under him, at the same time he noticed that the coast became less rugged, while the group of islands beyond thinned and finally vanished and the broad, open sea came clear up to firm land. Here there were no more forests: here the plain was supreme. It spread all the way to the horizon. A land that lay so exposed, with field upon field, reminded the boy of Skåne. He felt both happy and sad as he looked at it.
“I can’t be very far from home,” he thought.
Many times during the trip the goslings had asked the old geese:
“How does it look in foreign lands?”
“Wait, wait! You shall soon see,” the old geese had answered.
When the wild geese had passed Halland Ridge and gone a distance into Skåne, Akka called out:
“Now look down! Look all around! It is like this in foreign lands.”
Just then they flew over Söder Ridge. The whole long range of hills was clad in beech woods, and beautiful, turreted castles peeped out here and there.
Among the trees grazed roebuck, and on the forest meadow romped the hares. Hunters’ horns sounded from the forests; the loud baying of dogs could be heard all the way up to the wild geese. Broad avenues wound through the trees and on these ladies and gentlemen were driving in polished carriages or riding fine horses. At the foot of the ridge lay Ring Lake with the ancient Bosjö Cloister on a narrow peninsula.
“Does it look like this in foreign lands?” asked the goslings.
“It looks exactly like this wherever there are forest-clad ridges,” replied Akka, “only one doesn’t see many of them. Wait! You shall see how it looks in general.”
Akka led the geese farther south to the great Skåne plain. There it spread, with grain fields; with acres and acres of sugar beets, where the beet-pickers were at work; with low whitewashed farm- and outhouses; with numberless little white churches; with ugly, gray sugar refineries and small villages near the railway stations. Little beech-encircled meadow lakes, each of them adorned by its own stately manor, shimmered here and there.
“Now look down! Look carefully!” called the leader-goose. “Thus it is in foreign lands, from the Baltic coast all the way down to the high Alps. Farther than that I have never travelled.”
When the goslings had seen the plain, the leader-goose flew down the Öresund coast. Swampy meadows sloped gradually toward the sea. In some places were high, steep banks, in others drift-sand fields, where the sand lay heaped in banks and hills. Fishing hamlets stood all along the coast, with long rows of low, uniform brick houses, with a lighthouse at the edge of the breakwater, and brown fishing nets hanging in the drying yard.
“Now look down! Look well! This is how it looks along the coasts in foreign lands.”
After Akka had been flying about in this manner a long time she alighted suddenly on a marsh in Vemminghög township and the boy could not help thinking that she had travelled over Skåne just to let him see that his was a country which could compare favourably with any in the world. This was unnecessary, for the boy was not thinking of whether the country was rich or poor.
From the moment that he had seen the first willow grove his heart ached with homesickness.
Home at Last
.
The atmosphere was dull and hazy. The wild geese had been feeding on the big meadow around Skerup church and were having their noonday rest when Akka came up to the boy.
“It looks as if we should have calm weather for awhile,” she remarked, “and I think we’ll cross the Baltic tomorrow.”
“Indeed!” said the boy abruptly, for his throat contracted so that he could hardly speak. All along he had cherished the hope that he would be released from the enchantment while he was still in Skåne.
“We are quite near West Vemminghög now,” said Akka, “and I thought that perhaps you might like to go home for awhile. It may be some time before you have another opportunity to see your people.”
“Perhaps I had better not,” said the boy hesitatingly, but something in his voice betrayed that he was glad of Akka’s proposal.
“If the goosey-gander remains with us, no harm can come to him,” Akka assured. “I think you had better find out how your parents are getting along. You might be of some help to them, even if you’re not a normal boy.”
“You are right, Mother Akka. I should have thought of that long ago,” said the boy impulsively.
The next second he and the leader-goose were on their way to his home. It was not long before Akka alighted behind the stone hedge encircling the little farm.
“Strange how natural everything looks around here!” the boy remarked, quickly clambering to the top of the hedge, so that he could look about.
“It seems to me only yesterday that I first saw you come flying through the air.”
“I wonder if your father has a gun,” said Akka suddenly.
“You may be sure he has,” returned the boy. “It was just the gun that kept me at home that Sunday morning when I should have been at church.”
“Then I don’t dare to stand here and wait for you,” said Akka. “You had better meet us at Smygahök early tomorrow morning, so that you may stay at home over night.”
“Oh, don’t go yet, Mother Akka!” begged the boy, jumping from the hedge.
He could not tell just why it was, but he felt as if something would happen, either to the wild goose or to himself, to prevent their future meeting.
“No
