ound anything eatable. No, that he hadn't, he replied, and
then she tried to help him. She couldn't find any nuts either, but she
discovered a couple of dried blossoms that hung on a brier-bush. These
the boy ate with a good relish. But he wondered what mother would say,
if she knew that he had lived on raw fish and old winter-dried blossoms.

When the wild geese had finally eaten themselves full, they bore off
toward the lake again, where they amused themselves with games until
almost dinner time.

The wild geese challenged the white goosey-gander to take part in all
kinds of sports. They had swimming races, running races, and flying
races with him. The big tame one did his level best to hold his own, but
the clever wild geese beat him every time. All the while, the boy sat on
the goosey-gander's back and encouraged him, and had as much fun as the
rest. They laughed and screamed and cackled, and it was remarkable that
the people on the estate didn't hear them.

When the wild geese were tired of play, they flew out on the ice and
rested for a couple of hours. The afternoon they spent in pretty much
the same way as the forenoon. First, a couple of hours feeding, then
bathing and play in the water near the ice-edge until sunset, when they
immediately arranged themselves for sleep.

"This is just the life that suits me," thought the boy when he crept in
under the gander's wing. "But to-morrow, I suppose I'll be sent home."

Before he fell asleep, he lay and thought that if he might go along with
the wild geese, he would escape all scoldings because he was lazy. Then
he could cut loose every day, and his only worry would be to get
something to eat. But he needed so little nowadays; and there would
always be a way to get that.

So he pictured the whole scene to himself; what he should see, and all
the adventures that he would be in on. Yes, it would be something
different from the wear and tear at home. "If I could only go with the
wild geese on their travels, I shouldn't grieve because I'd been
transformed," thought the boy.

He wasn't afraid of anything--except being sent home; but not even on
Wednesday did the geese say anything to him about going. That day passed
in the same way as Tuesday; and the boy grew more and more contented
with the outdoor life. He thought that he had the lovely Oevid Cloister
park--which was as large as a forest--all to himself; and he wasn't
anxious to go back to the stuffy cabin and the