But at Vittskoevle the goosey-gander was stolen, and how it happened has already been related.  If the boy had not used all his powers to help him he would never again have been found.

On Saturday evening, as the boy came back to Vomb Lake with the goosey-gander, he thought that he had done a good day’s work; and he speculated a good deal on what Akka and the wild geese would say to him.  The wild geese were not at all sparing in their praises, but they did not say the word he was longing to hear.

Then Sunday came again.  A whole week had gone by since the boy had been bewitched, and he was still just as little.

But he didn’t appear to be giving himself any extra worry on account of this thing.  On Sunday afternoon he sat huddled together in a big, fluffy osier-bush, down by the lake, and blew on a reed-pipe.  All around him there sat as many finches and bullfinches and starlings as the bush could well hold—­who sang songs which he tried to teach himself to play.  But the boy was not at home in this art.  He blew so false that the feathers raised themselves on the little music-masters and they shrieked and fluttered in their despair.  The boy laughed so heartily at their excitement, that he dropped his pipe.

He began once again, and that went just as badly.  Then all the little birds wailed:  “To-day you play worse than usual, Thumbietot!  You don’t take one true note!  Where are your thoughts, Thumbietot?”

“They are elsewhere,” said the boy—­and this was true.  He sat there and pondered how long he would be allowed to remain with the wild geese; or if he should be sent home perhaps to-day.

Finally the boy threw down his pipe and jumped from the bush.  He had seen Akka, and all the wild geese, coming toward him in a long row.  They walked so uncommonly slow and dignified-like, that the boy immediately understood that now he should learn what they intended to do with him.

When they stopped at last, Akka said:  “You may well have reason to wonder at me, Thumbietot, who have not said thanks to you for saving me from Smirre Fox.  But I am one of those who would rather give thanks by deeds than words.  I have sent word to the elf that bewitched you.  At first he didn’t want to hear anything about curing you; but I have sent message upon message to him, and told him how well you have conducted yourself among us.  He greets you, and says, that as soon as you turn back home, you shall be human again.”

But think of it!  Just as happy as the boy had been when the wild geese began to speak, just that miserable was he when they had finished.  He didn’t say a word, but turned away and wept.

“What in all the world is this?” said Akka.  “It looks as though you had expected more of me than I have offered you.”

But the boy was thinking of the care-free days and the banter; and of adventure and freedom and travel, high above the earth, that he should miss, and he actually bawled with grief.  “I don’t want to be human,” said he.  “I want to go with you to Lapland.”  “I’ll tell you something,” said Akka.  “That elf is very touchy, and I’m afraid that if you do not accept his offer now, it will be difficult for you to coax him another time.”