The Wonderful Adventures of Nils by Selma Lagerlöf (i can read book club TXT) 📕

he could not quite make up his mind to throw it out; but, in reality, his mind was taken up with something altogether different.

“ ‘Surely a man and a horse who have no infirmities need not let a feeble old woman be devoured by wolves for their sakes!’ he thought. ‘There must be some other way of salvation. Why, of course, there is! It’s only my stupidity that hinders me from finding the way.’

“Again he started to push the vat, then paused once more and burst out laughing.

“The old woman was alarmed and wondered if he had gone mad, but the man from Hede was laughing at himself because he had been so stupid all the while. It was the simplest thing in the world to save all three of them. He could not imagine why he had not thought of it before.

“ ‘Listen to what I say to you, Malin!’ he said. ‘It was splendid of you to be willing to throw yourself to the wolves. But you won’t have to do that because I know how we can all three be helped without endangering the life of any. Remember, whatever I may do, you are to sit still and drive down to Linsäll. There you must waken the townspeople and tell them that I’m alone out here on the ice, surrounded by wolves, and ask them to come and help me.’

“The man waited until the wolves were almost upon the sledge. Then he rolled out the big brewer’s vat, jumped down, and crawled in under it.

“It was a huge vat, large enough to hold a whole Christmas brew. The wolves pounced upon it and bit at the hoops, but the vat was too heavy for them to move. They could not get at the man inside.

“He knew that he was safe and laughed at the wolves. After a bit he was serious again.

“ ‘For the future, when I get into a tight place, I shall remember this vat, and I shall bear in mind that I need never wrong either myself or others, for there is always a third way out of a difficulty if only one can hit upon it.’ ”

With this Bataki closed his narrative.

The boy noticed that the raven never spoke unless there was some special meaning back of his words, and the longer he listened to him, the more thoughtful he became.

“I wonder why you told me that story?” remarked the boy.

“I just happened to think of it as I stood here, gazing up at Sonfjället,” replied the raven.

Now they had travelled farther down Lake Ljusna and in an hour or so they came to Kolsätt, close to the border of Hälsingland. Here the raven alighted near a little hut that had no windows⁠—only a shutter. From the chimney rose sparks and smoke, and from within the sound of heavy hammering was heard.

“Whenever I see this smithy,” observed the raven, “I’m reminded that, in former times, there were such skilled blacksmiths here in Härjedalen, more especially in this village⁠—that they couldn’t be matched in the whole country.”

“Perhaps you also remember a story about them?” said the boy.

“Yes,” returned Bataki, “I remember one about a smith from Härjedalen who once invited two other master blacksmiths⁠—one from Dalecarlia and one from Vermland⁠—to compete with him at nail-making. The challenge was accepted and the three blacksmiths met here at Kolsätt. The Dalecarlian began. He forged a dozen nails, so even and smooth and sharp that they couldn’t be improved upon. After him came the Vermlander. He, too, forged a dozen nails, which were quite perfect and, moreover, he finished them in half the time that it took the Dalecarlian. When the judges saw this they said to the Härjedal smith that it wouldn’t be worth while for him to try, since he could not forge better than the Dalecarlian or faster than the Vermlander.

“ ‘I shan’t give up! There must be still another way of excelling,’ insisted the Härjedal smith.

“He placed the iron on the anvil without heating it at the forge; he simply hammered it hot and forged nail after nail, without the use of either anvil or bellows. None of the judges had ever seen a blacksmith wield a hammer more masterfully, and the Härjedal smith was proclaimed the best in the land.”

With these remarks Bataki subsided, and the boy grew even more thoughtful.

“I wonder what your purpose was in telling me that?” he queried.

“The story dropped into my mind when I saw the old smithy again,” said Bataki in an offhand manner.

The two travellers rose again into the air and the raven carried the boy southward till they came to Lillhärdal Parish, where he alighted on a leafy mound at the top of a ridge.

“I wonder if you know upon what mound you are standing?” said Bataki.

The boy had to confess that he did not know.

“This is a grave,” said Bataki. “Beneath this mound lies the first settler in Härjedalen.”

“Perhaps you have a story to tell of him too?” said the boy.

“I haven’t heard much about him, but I think he was a Norwegian. He had served with a Norwegian king, got into his bad graces, and had to flee the country.

“Later he went over to the Swedish king, who lived at Upsala, and took service with him. But, after a time, he asked for the hand of the king’s sister in marriage, and when the king wouldn’t give him such a highborn bride, he eloped with her. By that time he had managed to get himself into such disfavour that it wasn’t safe for him to live either in Norway or Sweden, and he did not wish to move to a foreign country. ‘But there must still be a course open to me,’ he thought. With his servants and treasures, he journeyed through Dalecarlia until he arrived in the desolate forests beyond the outskirts of the province. There he settled, built houses and broke up land. Thus, you see, he was the first man to settle in this