RETRIBUTION

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      One afternoon Akka from Kebnekaise and her flock alighted on the shore of a forest lake.

      Spring was backward—as it always is in the mountain districts. Ice covered all the lake save a narrow strip next the land. The geese at once plunged into the water to bathe and hunt for food. In the morning Nils Holgersson had dropped one of his wooden shoes, so he went down by the elms and birches that grew along the shore, to look for something to bind around his foot.

      The boy walked quite a distance before he found anything that he could use. He glanced about nervously, for he did not fancy being in the forest.

      "Give me the plains and the lakes!" he thought. "There you can see what you are likely to meet. Now, if this were a grove of little birches, it would be well enough, for then the ground would be almost bare; but how people can like these wild, pathless forests is incomprehensible to me. If I owned this land I would chop down every tree."

      At last he caught sight of a piece of birch bark, and just as he was fitting it to his foot he heard a rustle behind him. He turned quickly. A snake darted from the brush straight toward him!

      The snake was uncommonly long and thick, but the boy soon saw that it had a white spot on each cheek.

      "Why, it's only a water-snake," he laughed; "it can't harm me."

      But the next instant the snake gave him a powerful blow on the chest that knocked him down. The boy was on his feet in a second and running away, but the snake was after him! The ground was stony and scrubby; the boy could not proceed very fast; and the snake was close at his heels.

      Then the boy saw a big rock in front of him, and began to scale it.

      "I do hope the snake can't follow me here!" he thought, but he had no sooner reached the top of the rock than he saw that the snake was following him.

      Quite close to the boy, on a narrow ledge at the top of the rock, lay a round stone as large as a man's head. As the snake came closer, the boy ran behind the stone, and gave it a push. It rolled right down on the snake, drawing it along to the ground, where it landed on its head.

      "That stone did its work well!" thought the boy with a sigh of relief, as he saw the snake squirm a little, and then lie perfectly still.

      "I don't think I've been in greater peril on the whole journey," he said.

      He had hardly recovered from the shock when he heard a rustle above him, and saw a bird circling through the air to light on the ground right beside the snake. The bird was like a crow in size and form, but was dressed in a pretty coat of shiny black feathers.

      The boy cautiously retreated into a crevice of the rock. His adventure in being kidnapped by crows was still fresh in his memory, and he did not care to show himself when there was no need of it.

      The bird strode back and forth beside the snake's body, and turned it over with his beak. Finally he spread his wings and began to shriek in ear-splitting tones:

      "It is certainly Helpless, the water-snake, that lies dead here!" Once more he walked the length of the snake; then he stood in a deep study, and scratched his neck with his foot.

      "It isn't possible that there can be two such big snakes in the forest," he pondered. "It must surely be Helpless!"

      He was just going to thrust his beak into the snake, but suddenly checked himself.

      "You mustn't be a numbskull, Bataki!" he remarked to himself. "Surely you cannot be thinking of eating the snake until you have called Karr! He wouldn't believe that Helpless was dead unless he could see it with his own eyes."

      The boy tried to keep quiet, but the bird was so ludicrously solemn, as he stalked back and forth chattering to himself, that he had to laugh.

      The bird heard him, and, with a flap of his wings, he was up on the rock. The boy rose quickly and walked toward him.

      "Are you not the one who is called Bataki, the raven? and are you not a friend of Akka from Kebnekaise?" asked the boy.

      The bird regarded him intently; then nodded three times.

      "Surely, you're not the little chap who flies around with the wild geese, and whom they call Thumbietot?"

      "Oh, you're not so far out of the way," said the boy.

      "What luck that I should have run across you! Perhaps you can tell me who killed this water-snake?"

      "The stone which I rolled down on him killed him," replied the boy, and related how the whole thing happened.

      "That was cleverly done for one who is as tiny as you are!" said the raven. "I have a friend in these parts who will be glad to know that this snake has been killed, and I should like to render you a service in return."

      "Then tell me why you are glad the water-snake is dead," responded the boy.

      "It's a long story," said the raven; "you wouldn't have the patience to listen to it."

      But the boy insisted that he had, and then the raven told him the whole story about Karr and Grayskin and Helpless, the water-snake. When he had finished, the boy sat quietly for a moment, looking straight ahead. Then he spoke:

      "I seem to like the forest better since hearing this. I wonder if there is anything left of the old Liberty Forest."

      "Most of it has been destroyed," said Bataki. "The trees look as if they had passed through a fire. They'll have to be cleared away, and it will take many years before the forest will be what it once was."

      "That snake deserved his death!" declared the boy. "But I wonder if it could be possible that he was so wise he could send sickness to the caterpillars?"

      "Perhaps he knew that they frequently became sick in that way," intimated Bataki.

      "Yes, that may be; but all the same, I must say that he was a very wily snake."

      The boy stopped talking because he saw the raven was not listening to him, but sitting with gaze averted. "Hark!" he said. "Karr is in the vicinity. Won't he be happy when he sees that Helpless is dead!"

      The boy turned his head in the direction of the sound.

      "He's talking with the wild geese," he said.

      "Oh, you may be sure that he has dragged himself down to the strand to get the latest news about Grayskin!"

      Both the boy and the raven jumped to the ground, and hastened down to the shore. All the geese had come out of the lake, and stood talking with an old dog, who was so weak and decrepit that it seemed as if he might drop dead at any moment.

      "There's Karr," said Bataki to the boy. "Let him hear first what the wild geese have to say to him; later we shall tell him that the water-snake is dead."

      Presently they heard Akka talking to Karr.

      "It happened last year while we were making our usual spring trip," remarked the leader-goose. "We started out one morning—Yksi, Kaksi, and I, and we flew over the great boundary forests between Dalecarlia and Hälsingland. Under us we, saw only