The Wonderful Adventures of Nils Part 51

When the eagle had taken two more wing strokes, they sighted a log cabin at the edge of the clearing. It had no windows and only two loose boards for a door. The roof had been covered with bark and twigs, but now it was gaping, and the boy could see that inside the cabin there were only a few big stones to serve as a fireplace, and two board benches. When they were above the cabin the eagle suspected that the boy was wondering who could have lived in such a wretched hut as that.

"The reapers who mowed the forest field lived there," the eagle said.

The boy remembered how the reapers in his home had returned from their day's work, cheerful and happy, and how the best his mother had in the larder was always spread for them; while here, after the arduous work of the day, they must rest on hard benches in a cabin that was worse than an outhouse. And what they had to eat he could not imagine.

"I wonder if there are any harvest festivals for these labourers?" he questioned.

A little farther on they saw below them a wretchedly bad road winding through the forest. It was narrow and zigzag, hilly and stony, and cut up by brooks in many places. As they flew over it the eagle knew that the boy was wondering what was carted over a road like that.

"Over this road the harvest was conveyed to the stack," the eagle said.

The boy recalled what fun they had at home when the harvest wagons drawn by two st.u.r.dy horses, carried the grain from the field. The man who drove sat proudly on top of the load; the horses danced and p.r.i.c.ked up their ears, while the village children, who were allowed to climb upon the sheaves, sat there laughing and shrieking, half-pleased, half-frightened. But here the great logs were drawn up and down steep hills; here the poor horses must be worked to their limit, and the driver must often be in peril. "I'm afraid there has been very little cheer along this road," the boy observed.

The eagle flew on with powerful wing strokes, and soon they came to a river bank covered with logs, chips, and bark. The eagle perceived that the boy wondered why it looked so littered up down there.

"Here the harvest has been stacked," the eagle told him.

The boy thought of how the grain stacks in his part of the country were piled up close to the farms, as if they were their greatest ornaments, while here the harvest was borne to a desolate river strand, and left there.

"I wonder if any one out in this wilderness counts his stacks, and compares them with his neighbour's?" he said.

A little later they came to Ljungen, a river which glides through a broad valley. Immediately everything was so changed that they might well think they had come to another country. The dark spruce forest had stopped on the inclines above the valley, and the slopes were clad in light-stemmed birches and aspens. The valley was so broad that in many places the river widened into lakes. Along the sh.o.r.es lay a large flouris.h.i.+ng town.

As they soared above the valley the eagle realized that the boy was wondering if the fields and meadows here could provide a livelihood for so many people.

"Here live the reapers who mow the forest fields," the eagle said.

The boy was thinking of the lowly cabins and the hedged-in farms down in Skne when he exclaimed:

"Why, here the peasants live in real manors. It looks as if it might be worth one's while to work in the forest!"

The eagle had intended to travel straight north, but when he had flown out over the river he understood that the boy wondered who handled the timber after it was stacked on the river bank.

The boy recollected how careful they had been at home never to let a grain be wasted, while here were great rafts of logs floating down the river, uncared for. He could not believe that more than half of the logs ever reached their destination. Many were floating in midstream, and for them all went smoothly; others moved close to the sh.o.r.e, b.u.mping against points of land, and some were left behind in the still waters of the creeks. On the lakes there were so many logs that they covered the entire surface of the water. These appeared to be lodged for an indefinite period. At the bridges they stuck; in the falls they were bunched, then they were pyramided and broken in two; afterward, in the rapids, they were blocked by the stones and ma.s.sed into great heaps.

"I wonder how long it takes for the logs to get to the mill?" said the boy.

The eagle continued his slow flight down River Ljungen. Over many places he paused in the air on outspread wings, that the boy might see how this kind of harvest work was done.

Presently they came to a place where the loggers were at work. The eagle marked that the boy wondered what they were doing.

"They are the ones who take care of all the belated harvest," the eagle said.

The boy remembered the perfect ease with which his people at home had driven their grain to the mill. Here the men ran alongside the sh.o.r.es with long boat-hooks, and with toil and effort urged the logs along.

They waded out in the river and were soaked from top to toe. They jumped from stone to stone far out into the rapids, and they tramped on the rolling log heaps as calmly as though they were on flat ground. They were daring and resolute men.

"As I watch this, I'm reminded of the iron-moulders in the mining districts, who juggle with fire as if it were perfectly harmless,"

remarked the boy. "These loggers play with water as if they were its masters. They seem to have subjugated it so that it dare not harm them."

Gradually they neared the mouth of the river, and Bothnia Bay was beyond them. Gorgo flew no farther straight ahead, but went northward along the coast. Before they had travelled very far they saw a lumber camp as large as a small city. While the eagle circled back and forth above it, he heard the boy remark that this place looked interesting.

"Here you have the great lumber camp called Svartvik," the eagle said.

The boy thought of the mill at home, which stood peacefully embedded in foliage, and moved its wings very slowly. This mill, where they grind the forest harvest, stood on the water.

The mill pond was crowded with logs. One by one the helpers seized them with their cant-hooks, crowded them into the chutes and hurried them along to the whirling saws. What happened to the logs inside, the boy could not see, but he heard loud buzzing and roaring, and from the other end of the house small cars ran out, loaded with white planks. The cars ran on s.h.i.+ning tracks down to the lumber yard, where the planks were piled in rows, forming streets--like blocks of houses in a city. In one place they were building new piles; in another they were pulling down old ones. These were carried aboard two large vessels which lay waiting for cargo. The place was alive with workmen, and in the woods, back of the yard, they had their homes.

"They'll soon manage to saw up all the forests in Medelpad the way they work here," said the boy.

The eagle moved his wings just a little, and carried the boy above another large camp, very much like the first, with the mill, yard, wharf, and the homes of the workmen.

"This is called Kukikenborg," the eagle said.

He flapped his wings slowly, flew past two big lumber camps, and approached a large city. When the eagle heard the boy ask the name of it, he cried; "This is Sundsvall, the manor of the lumber districts."

The boy remembered the cities of Skne, which looked so old and gray and solemn; while here in the bleak North the city of Sundsvall faced a beautiful bay, and looked young and happy and beaming. There was something odd about the city when one saw it from above, for in the middle stood a cl.u.s.ter of tall stone structures which looked so imposing that their match was hardly to be found in Stockholm. Around the stone buildings there was a large open s.p.a.ce, then came a wreath of frame houses which looked pretty and cosy in their little gardens; but they seemed to be conscious of the fact that they were very much poorer than the stone houses, and dared not venture into their neighbourhood.

"This must be both a wealthy and powerful city," remarked the boy. "Can it be possible that the poor forest soil is the source of all this?"

The eagle flapped his wings again, and went over to Aln Island, which lies opposite Sundsvall. The boy was greatly surprised to see all the sawmills that decked the sh.o.r.es. On Aln Island they stood, one next another, and on the mainland opposite were mill upon mill, lumber yard upon lumber yard. He counted forty, at least, but believed there were many more.

"How wonderful it all looks from up here!" he marvelled. "So much life and activity I have not seen in any place save this on the whole trip.

It is a great country that we have! Wherever I go, there is always something new for people to live upon."

A MORNING IN NGERMANLAND

THE BREAD

_Sat.u.r.day, June eighteenth_.

Next morning, when the eagle had flown some distance into ngermanland, he remarked that to-day he was the one who was hungry, and must find something to eat! He set the boy down in an enormous pine on a high mountain ridge, and away he flew.

The boy found a comfortable seat in a cleft branch from which he could look down over ngermanland. It was a glorious morning! The suns.h.i.+ne gilded the treetops; a soft breeze played in the pine needles; the sweetest fragrance was wafted through the forest; a beautiful landscape spread before him; and the boy himself was happy and care-free. He felt that no one could be better off.

He had a perfect outlook in every direction. The country west of him was all peaks and table-land, and the farther away they were, the higher and wilder they looked. To the east there were also many peaks, but these sank lower and lower toward the sea, where the land became perfectly flat. Everywhere he saw s.h.i.+ning rivers and brooks which were having a troublesome journey with rapids and falls so long as they ran between mountains, but spread out clear and broad as they neared the sh.o.r.e of the coast. Bothnia Bay was dotted with islands and notched with points, but farther out was open, blue water, like a summer sky.

When the boy had had enough of the landscape he unloosed his knapsack, took out a morsel of fine white bread, and began to eat.

"I don't think I've ever tasted such good bread," said he. "And how much I have left! There's enough to last me for a couple of days." As he munched he thought of how he had come by the bread.

"It must be because I got it in such a nice way that it tastes so good to me," he said.

The golden eagle had left Medelpad the evening before. He had hardly crossed the border into ngermanland when the boy caught a glimpse of a fertile valley and a river, which surpa.s.sed anything of the kind he had seen before.

As the boy glanced down at the rich valley, he complained of feeling hungry. He had had no food for two whole days, he said, and now he was famished. Gorgo did not wish to have it said that the boy had fared worse in his company than when he travelled with the wild geese, so he slackened his speed.

"Why haven't you spoken of this before?" he asked. "You shall have all the food you want. There's no need of your starving when you have an eagle for a travelling companion."