“They probably intend that we shall spend the night here,” thought the boy, and jumped down from the goose’s back.

He stood on a narrow beach by a fair-sized lake.  It was ugly to look upon, because it was almost entirely covered with an ice-crust that was blackened and uneven and full of cracks and holes—­as spring ice generally is.

The ice was already breaking up.  It was loose and floating and had a broad belt of dark, shiny water all around it; but there was still enough of it left to spread chill and winter terror over the place.

On the other side of the lake there appeared to be an open and light country, but where the geese had lighted there was a thick pine-growth.  It looked as if the forest of firs and pines had the power to bind the winter to itself.  Everywhere else the ground was bare; but beneath the sharp pine-branches lay snow that had been melting and freezing, melting and freezing, until it was hard as ice.

The boy thought he had struck an arctic wilderness, and he was so miserable that he wanted to scream.  He was hungry too.  He hadn’t eaten a bite the whole day.  But where should he find any food?  Nothing eatable grew on either ground or tree in the month of March.

Yes, where was he to find food, and who would give him shelter, and who would fix his bed, and who would protect him from the wild beasts?

For now the sun was away and frost came from the lake, and darkness sank down from heaven, and terror stole forward on the twilight’s trail, and in the forest it began to patter and rustle.

Now the good humour which the boy had felt when he was up in the air, was gone, and in his misery he looked around for his travelling companions.  He had no one but them to cling to now.

Then he saw that the goosey-gander was having even a worse time of it than he.  He was lying prostrate on the spot where he had alighted; and it looked as if he were ready to die.  His neck lay flat against the ground, his eyes were closed, and his breathing sounded like a feeble hissing.

“Dear Morten Goosey-Gander,” said the boy, “try to get a swallow of water!  It isn’t two steps to the lake.”

But the goosey-gander didn’t stir.

The boy had certainly been cruel to all animals, and to the goosey-gander in times gone by; but now he felt that the goosey-gander was the only comfort he had left, and he was dreadfully afraid of losing him.

At once the boy began to push and drag him, to get him into the water, but the goosey-gander was big and heavy, and it was mighty hard work for the boy; but at last he succeeded.

The goosey-gander got in head first.  For an instant he lay motionless in the slime, but soon he poked up his head, shook the water from his eyes and sniffed.  Then he swam, proudly, between reeds and seaweed.

The wild geese were in the lake before him.  They had not looked around for either the goosey-gander or for his rider, but had made straight for the water.  They had bathed and primped, and now they lay and gulped half-rotten pond-weed and water-clover.