The first ones who saw the wild geese that day were miners on Taberg, who were digging ore at the mouth of the mine.  When they heard them cackle, they paused in their drilling for ore, and one of them called to the birds:  “Where are you going?  Where are you going?” The geese didn’t understand what he said, but the boy leaned forward over the goose-back, and answered for them:  “Where there is neither pick nor hammer.”  When the miners heard the words, they thought it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech.  “Take us along with you!  Take us along with you!” they cried.  “Not this year,” shrieked the boy.  “Not this year.”

The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the while they made the same racket.  Here, on the narrow land-strip between Monk and Vettern lakes, lay Joenkoeping with its great factories.  The wild geese rode first over Monksjoe paper mills.  The noon rest hour was just over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate.  When they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them.  “Where are you going?  Where are you going?” called the workmen.  The wild geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for them:  “There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes.”  When the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech.  “Take us along with you!” “Not this year,” answered the boy.  “Not this year.”

Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on the shores of Vettern—­large as a fortress—­and lifts its high chimneys toward the sky.  Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall young working-women sat and filled match-boxes.  They had opened a window on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild geese’s call.  The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a match-box in her hand, and cried:  “Where are you going?  Where are you going?” “To that land where there is no need of either light or matches,” said the boy.  The girl thought that what she had heard was only goose-cackle; but since she thought she had distinguished a couple of words, she called out in answer:  “Take me along with you!” “Not this year,” replied the boy.  “Not this year.”

East of the factories rises Joenkoeping, on the most glorious spot that any city can occupy.  The narrow Vettern has high, steep sand-shores, both on the eastern and western sides; but straight south, the sand-walls are broken down, just as if to make room for a large gate, through which one reaches the lake.  And in the middle of the gate—­with mountains to the left, and mountains to the right, with Monk Lake behind it, and Vettern in front of it—­lies Joenkoeping.

The wild geese travelled forward over the long, narrow city, and behaved themselves here just as they had done in the country.  But in the city there was no one who answered them.  It was not to be expected that city folks should stop out in the streets, and call to the wild geese.