ints that
lie along the coast of Blekinge, and which are nothing in the world but
the big stones that the giant threw.

"One can also tell because the salmon always go up in the Blekinge
streams and work their way up through rapids and still water, all the
way to Smaland.

"That giant is worthy of great thanks and much honour from the Blekinge
people; for salmon in the streams, and stone-cutting on the island--that
means work which gives food to many of them even to this day."

BY RONNEBY RIVER

_Friday, April first_.

Neither the wild geese nor Smirre Fox had believed that they should ever
run across each other after they had left Skane. But now it turned out
so that the wild geese happened to take the route over Blekinge and
thither Smirre Fox had also gone.

So far he had kept himself in the northern parts of the province; and
since he had not as yet seen any manor parks, or hunting grounds filled
with game and dainty young deer, he was more disgruntled than he could
say.

One afternoon, when Smirre tramped around in the desolate forest
district of Mellanbygden, not far from Ronneby River, he saw a flock of
wild geese fly through the air. Instantly he observed that one of the
geese was white and then he knew, of course, with whom he had to deal.

Smirre began immediately to hunt the geese--just as much for the
pleasure of getting a good square meal, as for the desire to be avenged
for all the humiliation that they had heaped upon him. He saw that they
flew eastward until they came to Ronneby River. Then they changed their
course, and followed the river toward the south. He understood that they
intended to seek a sleeping-place along the river-banks, and he thought
that he should be able to get hold of a pair of them without much
trouble. But when Smirre finally discovered the place where the wild
geese had taken refuge, he observed they had chosen such a
well-protected spot, that he couldn't get near.

Ronneby River isn't any big or important body of water; nevertheless, it
is just as much talked of, for the sake of its pretty shores. At several
points it forces its way forward between steep mountain-walls that stand
upright out of the water, and are entirely overgrown with honeysuckle
and bird-cherry, mountain-ash and osier; and there isn't much that can
be more delightful than to row out on the little dark river on a
pleasant summer day, and look upward on all the soft green that fastens
itself to t