The Wonderful Adventures of Nils Selma Lagerlöf (i wanna iguana read aloud .txt) 📖

“Look at those beasts that stay at home and sleep half the year rather than go to the trouble of travelling south!”

Down in the pine forest the young grouse sat huddled together and gazed longingly after the big bird flocks which, amid joy and merriment, proceeded southward.

“When will our turn come?” they asked the mother grouse.

“You will have to stay at home with mamma and papa,” she said.

Tuesday, October fourth.

The boy had had three days’ travel in the rain and mist and longed for some sheltered nook, where he might rest awhile.

At last the geese alighted to feed and ease their wings a bit. To his great relief the boy saw an observation tower on a hill close by, and dragged himself to it.

When he had climbed to the top of the tower he found a party of tourists there, so he quickly crawled into a dark corner and was soon sound asleep.

When the boy awoke, he began to feel uneasy because the tourists lingered so long in the tower telling stories. He thought they would never go. Morten Goosey-Gander could not come for him while they were there and he knew, of course, that the wild geese were in a hurry to continue the journey. In the middle of a story he thought he heard honking and the beating of wings, as if the geese were flying away, but he did not dare to venture over to the balustrade to find out if it was so.

At last, when the tourists were gone, and the boy could crawl from his hiding place, he saw no wild geese, and no Morten Goosey-Gander came to fetch him. He called, “Here am I, where are you?” as loud as he could, but his travelling companions did not appear. Not for a second did he think they had deserted him; but he feared that they had met with some mishap and was wondering what he should do to find them, when Bataki, the raven, lit beside him.

The boy never dreamed that he should greet Bataki with such a glad welcome as he now gave him.

“Dear Bataki,” he burst forth. “How fortunate that you are here! Maybe you know what has become of Morten Goosey-Gander and the wild geese?”

“I’ve just come with a greeting from them,” replied the raven. “Akka saw a hunter prowling about on the mountain and therefore dared not stay to wait for you, but has gone on ahead. Get up on my back and you shall soon be with your friends.”

The boy quickly seated himself on the raven’s back and Bataki would soon have caught up with the geese had he not been hindered by a fog. It was as if the morning sun had awakened it to life. Little light veils of mist rose suddenly from the lake, from fields, and from the forest. They thickened and spread with marvellous rapidity, and soon the entire ground was hidden from sight by white, rolling mists.

Bataki flew along above the fog in clear air and sparkling sunshine, but the wild geese must have circled down among the damp clouds, for it was impossible to sight them. The boy and the raven called and shrieked, but got no response.

“Well, this is a stroke of ill luck!” said Bataki finally. “But we know that they are travelling toward the south, and of course I’ll find them as soon as the mist clears.”

The boy was distressed at the thought of being parted from Morten Goosey-Gander just now, when the geese were on the wing, and the big white one might meet with all sorts of mishaps. After Thumbietot had been sitting worrying for two hours or more, he remarked to himself that, thus far, there had been no mishap, and it was not worth while to lose heart.

Just then he heard a rooster crowing down on the ground, and instantly he bent forward on the raven’s back and called out:

“What’s the name of the country I’m travelling over?”

“It’s called Härjedalen, Härjedalen, Härjedalen,” crowed the rooster.

“How does it look down there where you are?” the boy asked.

“Cliffs in the west, woods in the east, broad valleys across the whole country,” replied the rooster.

“Thank you,” cried the boy. “You give a clear account of it.”

When they had travelled a little farther, he heard a crow cawing down in the mist.

“What kind of people live in this country?” shouted the boy.

“Good, thrifty peasants,” answered the crow. “Good, thrifty peasants.”

“What do they do?” asked the boy. “What do they do?”

“They raise cattle and fell forests,” cawed the crow.

“Thanks,” replied the boy. “You answer well.”

A bit farther on he heard a human voice yodeling and singing down in the mist.

“Is there any large city in this part of the country?” the boy asked.

“What⁠—what⁠—who is it that calls?” cried the human voice.

“Is there any large city in this region?” the boy repeated.

“I want to know who it is that calls,” shouted the human voice.

“I might have known that I could get no information when I asked a human being a civil question,” the boy retorted.

It was not long before the mist went away as suddenly as it had come. Then the boy saw a beautiful landscape, with high cliffs as in Jämtland, but there were no large, flourishing settlements on the mountain slopes. The villages lay far apart, and the farms were small. Bataki followed the stream southward till they came within sight of a village. There he alighted in a stubble field and let the boy dismount.

“In the summer grain grew on this ground,” said Bataki. “Look around and see if you can’t find something eatable.”

The boy acted upon the suggestion and before long he found a blade of wheat. As he picked out the grains and ate them, Bataki talked to him.

“Do you see that mountain towering directly south of us?” he asked.

“Yes, of course, I see it,” said the boy.

“It is called Sonfjället,” continued the raven;