, goosey-gander," screamed the boy excitedly,
"fly upward again! It is too late. I cannot get my shoe back again."

Down on the road stood Osa, the goose-girl, and her brother, little
Mats, looking at a tiny wooden shoe that had fallen from the skies.

Osa, the goose-girl, stood silent a long while, and pondered over the
find. At last she said, slowly and thoughtfully: "Do you remember,
little Mats, that when we went past Oevid Cloister, we heard that the
folks in a farmyard had seen an elf who was dressed in leather breeches,
and had wooden shoes on his feet, like any other working man? And do you
recollect when we came to Vittskoevle, a girl told us that she had seen a
Goa-Nisse with wooden shoes, who flew away on the back of a goose? And
when we ourselves came home to our cabin, little Mats, we saw a goblin
who was dressed in the same way, and who also straddled the back of a
goose--and flew away. Maybe it was the same one who rode along on his
goose up here in the air and dropped his wooden shoe."

"Yes, it must have been," said little Mats.

They turned the wooden shoe about and examined it carefully--for it
isn't every day that one happens across a Goa-Nisse's wooden shoe on the
highway.

"Wait, wait, little Mats!" said Osa, the goose-girl. "There is something
written on one side of it."

"Why, so there is! but they are such tiny letters."

"Let me see! It says--it says: 'Nils Holgersson from W. Vemminghoeg.'
That's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard!" said little Mats.

THE STORY OF KARR AND GRAYSKIN

KARR

About twelve years before Nils Holgersson started on his travels with
the wild geese there was a manufacturer at Kolmarden who wanted to be
rid of one of his dogs. He sent for his game-keeper and said to him that
it was impossible to keep the dog because he could not be broken of the
habit of chasing all the sheep and fowl he set eyes on, and he asked the
man to take the dog into the forest and shoot him.

The game-keeper slipped the leash on the dog to lead him to a spot in
the forest where all the superannuated dogs from the manor were shot and
buried. He was not a cruel man, but he was very glad to shoot that dog,
for he knew that sheep and chickens were not the only creatures he
hunted. Times without number he had gone into the forest and helped
himself to a hare or a grouse-chick.

The dog was a little black-and-tan setter. His name was Karr, and he was
so wise he understood all th