he same horses and riders were
pictured many times. They rode around the whole cabin, and continued
their ride even up toward the joists.

But in the roof the boy saw something which brought him to his senses in
a jiffy. It was a couple of loaves of big bread-cakes that hung there
upon a spit. They looked old and mouldy, but it was bread all the same.
He gave them a knock with the oven-rake and one piece fell to the floor.
He ate, and stuffed his bag full. It was incredible how good bread was,
anyway.

He looked around the cabin once more, to try and discover if there was
anything else which he might find useful to take along. "I may as well
take what I need, since no one else cares about it," thought he. But
most of the things were too big and heavy. The only things that he
could carry might be a few matches perhaps.

He clambered up on the table, and swung with the help of the curtains up
to the window-shelf. While he stood there and stuffed the matches into
his bag, the crow with the white feather came in through the window.
"Well here I am at last," said Fumle-Drumle as he lit on the table. "I
couldn't get here any sooner because we crows have elected a new
chieftain in Wind-Rush's place." "Whom have you chosen?" said the boy.
"Well, we have chosen one who will not permit robbery and injustice. We
have elected Garm Whitefeather, lately called Fumle-Drumle," answered
he, drawing himself up until he looked absolutely regal. "That was a
good choice," said the boy and congratulated him. "You may well wish me
luck," said Garm; then he told the boy about the time they had had with
Wind-Rush and Wind-Air.

During this recital the boy heard a voice outside the window which he
thought sounded familiar. "Is he here?"--inquired the fox. "Yes, he's
hidden in there," answered a crow-voice. "Be careful, Thumbietot!" cried
Garm. "Wind-Air stands without with that fox who wants to eat you." More
he didn't have time to say, for Smirre dashed against the window. The
old, rotten window-frame gave way, and the next second Smirre stood upon
the window-table. Garm Whitefeather, who didn't have time to fly away,
he killed instantly. Thereupon he jumped down to the floor, and looked
around for the boy. He tried to hide behind a big oakum-spiral, but
Smirre had already spied him, and was crouched for the final spring. The
cabin was so small, and so low, the boy understood that the fox could
reach him without the least difficulty. But ju