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

wore on. He tried to take deeper breaths and quicker wing-strokes, but even so he remained several goose-lengths behind the others.

When the wild geese who flew last, noticed that the tame one couldn’t keep up with them, they began to call to the goose who rode in the centre of the angle and led the procession: “Akka from Kebnekaise! Akka from Kebnekaise!”

“What do you want of me?” asked the leader.

“The white one will be left behind; the white one will be left behind.”

“Tell him it’s easier to fly fast than slow!” called the leader, and raced on as before.

The goosey-gander certainly tried to follow the advice, and increase his speed; but then he became so exhausted that he sank away down to the drooping willows that bordered the fields and meadows.

“Akka, Akka, Akka from Kebnekaise!” cried those who flew last and saw what a hard time he was having.

“What do you want now?” asked the leader⁠—and she sounded awfully angry.

“The white one sinks to the earth; the white one sinks to the earth.”

“Tell him it’s easier to fly high than low!” shouted the leader, and she didn’t slow up the least little bit, but raced on as before.

The goosey-gander tried also to follow this advice; but when he wanted to raise himself, he became so winded that he almost burst his breast.

“Akka, Akka!” again cried those who flew last.

“Can’t you let me fly in peace?” asked the leader, and she sounded even madder than before.

“The white one is ready to collapse.”

“Tell him that he who has not the strength to fly with the flock, can go back home!” cried the leader. She certainly had no idea of decreasing her speed⁠—but raced on as before.

“Oh! is that the way the wind blows,” thought the goosey-gander. He understood at once that the wild geese had never intended to take him along up to Lapland. They had only lured him away from home in sport.

He felt thoroughly exasperated. To think that his strength should fail him now, so he wouldn’t be able to show these tramps that even a tame goose was good for something! But the most provoking thing of all was that he had fallen in with Akka from Kebnekaise. Tame goose that he was, he had heard about a leader goose, named Akka, who was more than a hundred years old. She had such a big name that the best wild geese in the world followed her. But no one had such a contempt for tame geese as Akka and her flock, and gladly would he have shown them that he was their equal.

He flew slowly behind the rest, while he deliberated whether he should turn back or continue. Finally, the little creature that he carried on his back said: “Dear Morten Goosey-gander,1 you know well enough that it is simply impossible for you, who have never flown, to go with the wild geese all the way up to Lapland. Won’t you turn back before you kill yourself?”

But the farmer’s lad was about the worst thing the goosey-gander knew anything about, and as soon as it dawned on him that this puny creature actually believed that he couldn’t make the trip, he decided to stick it out. “If you say another word about this, I’ll drop you into the first ditch we ride over!” said he, and at the same time his fury gave him so much strength that he began to fly almost as well as any of the others.

It isn’t likely that he could have kept this pace up very long, neither was it necessary; for, just then, the sun sank quickly; and at sunset the geese flew down, and before the boy and the goosey-gander knew what had happened, they stood on the shores of Vomb Lake.

“They probably intend that we shall spend the night here,” thought the boy, and jumped down from the goose’s back.

He stood on a narrow beach by a fair-sized lake. It was ugly to look upon, because it was almost entirely covered with an ice-crust that was blackened and uneven and full of cracks and holes⁠—as spring ice generally is.

The ice was already breaking up. It was loose and floating and had a broad belt of dark, shiny water all around it; but there was still enough of it left to spread chill and winter terror over the place.

On the other side of the lake there appeared to be an open and light country, but where the geese had lighted there was a thick pine-growth. It looked as if the forest of firs and pines had the power to bind the winter to itself. Everywhere else the ground was bare; but beneath the sharp pine-branches lay snow that had been melting and freezing, melting and freezing, until it was hard as ice.

The boy thought he had struck an arctic wilderness, and he was so miserable that he wanted to scream. He was hungry too. He hadn’t eaten a bite the whole day. But where should he find any food? Nothing eatable grew on either ground or tree in the month of March.

Yes, where was he to find food, and who would give him shelter, and who would fix his bed, and who would protect him from the wild beasts?

For now the sun was away and frost came from the lake, and darkness sank down from heaven, and terror stole forward on the twilight’s trail, and in the forest it began to patter and rustle.

Now the good humour which the boy had felt when he was up in the air, was gone, and in his misery he looked around for his travelling companions. He had no one but them to cling to now.

Then he saw that the goosey-gander was having even a worse time of it than he. He was lying prostrate on the spot where he had alighted; and it looked as if he were ready to die. His neck lay flat against the ground, his eyes were closed,