When the boy awoke the morning was come, with fine, clear weather.  First, he himself ate a bit of bread which he found in the cabin; then he gave morning feed to both geese and cow, and opened the cowhouse door so that the cow could go over to the nearest farm.  When the cow came along all by herself the neighbours would no doubt understand that something was wrong with her mistress.  They would hurry over to the desolate farm to see how the old woman was getting along, and then they would find her dead body and bury it.

The boy and the geese had barely raised themselves into the air, when they caught a glimpse of a high mountain, with almost perpendicular walls, and an abrupt, broken-off top; and they understood that this must be Taberg.  On the summit stood Akka, with Yksi and Kaksi, Kolmi and Neljae, Viisi and Knusi, and all six goslings and waited for them.  There was a rejoicing, and a cackling, and a fluttering, and a calling which no one can describe, when they saw that the goosey-gander and Dunfin had succeeded in finding Thumbietot.

The woods grew pretty high up on Taberg’s sides, but her highest peak was barren; and from there one could look out in all directions.  If one gazed toward the east, or south, or west, then there was hardly anything to be seen but a poor highland with dark spruce-trees, brown morasses, ice-clad lakes, and bluish mountain-ridges.  The boy couldn’t keep from thinking it was true that the one who had created this hadn’t taken very great pains with his work, but had thrown it together in a hurry.  But if one glanced to the north, it was altogether different.  Here it looked as if it had been worked out with the utmost care and affection.  In this direction one saw only beautiful mountains, soft valleys, and winding rivers, all the way to the big Lake Vettern, which lay ice-free and transparently clear, and shone as if it wasn’t filled with water but with blue light.

It was Vettern that made it so pretty to look toward the north, because it looked as though a blue stream had risen up from the lake, and spread itself over land also.  Groves and hills and roofs, and the spires of Joenkoeping City—­which shimmered along Vettern’s shores—­lay enveloped in pale blue which caressed the eye.  If there were countries in heaven, they, too, must be blue like this, thought the boy, and imagined that he had gotten a faint idea of how it must look in Paradise.

Later in the day, when the geese continued their journey, they flew up toward the blue valley.  They were in holiday humour; shrieked and made such a racket that no one who had ears could help hearing them.

This happened to be the first really fine spring day they had had in this section.  Until now, the spring had done its work under rain and bluster; and now, when it had all of a sudden become fine weather, the people were filled with such a longing after summer warmth and green woods that they could hardly perform their tasks.  And when the wild geese rode by, high above the ground, cheerful and free, there wasn’t one who did not drop what he had in hand, and glance at them.