aroused.

He dashed across the house yard, sprang up on the board-walk leading to
the entrance door and ran into the hallway, where he kicked off his
wooden shoes in the old accustomed way, and walked toward the door.

All the while it went so much against the grain to appear before his
father and mother that he could not raise his hand to knock.

"But this concerns the life of the goosey-gander," he said to
himself--"he who has been my best friend ever since I last stood here."

In a twinkling the boy remembered all that he and the goosey-gander had
suffered on ice-bound lakes and stormy seas and among wild beasts of
prey. His heart swelled with gratitude; he conquered himself and knocked
on the door.

"Is there some one who wishes to come in?" asked his father, opening the
door.

"Mother, you sha'n't touch the goosey-gander!" cried the boy.

Instantly both the goosey-gander and Dunfin, who lay on a bench with
their feet tied, gave a cry of joy, so that he was sure they were alive.

Some one else gave a cry of joy--his _mother_!

"My, but you have grown tall and handsome!" she exclaimed.

The boy had not entered the cabin, but was standing on the doorstep,
like one who is not quite certain how he will be received.

"The Lord be praised that I have you back again!" said his mother,
laughing and crying. "Come in, my boy! Come in!"

"Welcome!" added his father, and not another word could he utter.

But the boy still lingered at the threshold. He could not comprehend why
they were so glad to see him--such as he was. Then his mother came and
put her arms around him and drew him into the room, and he knew that he
was all right.

"Mother and father!" he cried. "I'm a big boy. I am a human being
again!"

THE PARTING WITH THE WILD GEESE

_Wednesday, November ninth_.

The boy arose before dawn and wandered down to the coast. He was
standing alone on the strand east of Smyge fishing hamlet before
sunrise. He had already been in the pen with Morten Goosey-Gander to try
to rouse him, but the big white gander had no desire to leave home. He
did not say a word, but only stuck his bill under his wing and went to
sleep again.

To all appearances the weather promised to be almost as perfect as it
had been that spring day when the wild geese came to Skane. There was
hardly a ripple on the water; the air was still and the boy thought of
the good passage the geese would have. He himself was as yet in a kind
of d