The Collected Works. Selma Lagerlöf

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СКАЧАТЬ 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; "you can imagine that wolves were plentiful there once upon a time."

      "It must have been an ideal place for wolves," said the boy.

      "The people who lived here in the valley were frequently attacked by them," remarked the raven.

      "Perhaps you remember a good wolf story you could tell me?" said the boy.

      "I've been told that a long, long time ago the wolves from Sonfjället are supposed to have waylaid a man who had gone out to peddle his wares," began Bataki. "He was from Hede, a village a few miles down the valley. It was winter time and the wolves made for him as he was driving over the ice on Lake Ljusna. There were about nine or ten, and the man from Hede had a poor old horse, so there was very little hope of his escaping.

      "When the man heard the wolves howl and saw how many there were after him, he lost his head, and it did not occur to him that he ought to dump his casks and jugs out of the sledge, to lighten the load. He only whipped up the horse and made the best speed he could, but he soon observed that the wolves were gaining on him. The shores were desolate and he was fourteen miles from the nearest farm. He thought that his final hour had come, and was paralyzed with fear.

      "While he sat there, terrified, he saw something move in the brush, which had been set in the ice to mark out the road; and when he discovered who it was that walked there, his fear grew more and more intense.

      "Wild beasts were not coming toward him, but a poor old woman, named Finn-Malin, who was in the habit of roaming about on highways and byways. She was a hunchback, and slightly lame, so he recognized her at a distance.

      "The old woman was walking straight toward the wolves. The sledge had hidden them from her view, and the man comprehended at once that, if he were to drive on without warning her, she would walk right into the jaws of the wild beasts, and while they were rending her, he would have time enough to get away.

      "The old woman walked slowly, bent over a cane. It was plain that she was doomed if he did not help her, but even if he were to stop and take her into the sledge, it was by no means certain that she would be safe. More than likely the wolves would catch up with them, and he and she and the horse would all be killed. He wondered if it were not better to sacrifice one life in order that two might be spared—this flashed upon him the minute he saw the old woman. He had also time to think how it would be with him afterward—if perchance he might not regret that he had not succoured her; or if people should some day learn of the meeting and that he had not tried to help her. It was a terrible temptation.

      "'I would rather not have seen her,' he said to himself.

      "Just then the wolves howled savagely. The horse reared, plunged forward, and dashed past the old beggar woman. She, too, had heard the howling of the wolves, and, as the man from Hede drove by, he saw that the old woman knew what awaited her. She stood motionless, her mouth open for a cry, her arms stretched out for help. But she neither cried nor tried to throw herself into the sledge. Something seemed to have turned her to stone. 'It was I,' thought the man. 'I must have looked like a demon as I passed.'

      "He tried to feel satisfied, now that he was certain of escape; but at that very moment his heart reproached him. Never before had he done a dastardly thing, and he felt now that his whole life was blasted.

      "'Let come what may,' he said, and reined in the horse, 'I cannot leave her alone with the wolves!'

      "It was with great difficulty that he got the horse to turn, but in the end he managed it and promptly drove back to her.

      "'Be quick and get into the sledge,' he said gruffly; for he was mad with himself for not leaving the old woman to her fate.

      "'You might stay at home once in awhile, you old hag!' he growled. 'Now both my horse and I will come to grief on your account.'

      "The old woman did not say a word, but the man from Hede was in no mood to spare her.

      "'The horse has already tramped thirty-five miles to-day, and the load hasn't lightened any since СКАЧАТЬ