That day it was perfectly still and warm—­like a summer’s day—­the best weather in the world for a sea trip.  The only grave thing about it was that it was not quite clear, for the sky was gray and veiled.  Here and there were enormous mist-clouds which hung way down to the sea’s outer edge, and obstructed the view.

When the travellers had gotten away from the wooded island, the sea spread itself so smooth and mirror-like, that the boy as he looked down thought the water had disappeared.  There was no longer any earth under him.  He had nothing but mist and sky around him.  He grew very dizzy, and held himself tight on the goose-back, more frightened than when he sat there for the first time.  It seemed as though he couldn’t possibly hold on; he must fall in some direction.

It was even worse when they reached the big bird-track, of which the gray goose had spoken.  Actually, there came flock after flock flying in exactly the same direction.  They seemed to follow a fixed route.  There were ducks and gray geese, surf-scoters and guillemots, loons and pin-tail ducks and mergansers and grebes and oyster-catchers and sea-grouse.  But now, when the boy leaned forward, and looked in the direction where the sea ought to lie, he saw the whole bird procession reflected in the water.  But he was so dizzy that he didn’t understand how this had come about:  he thought that the whole bird procession flew with their bellies upside down.  Still he didn’t wonder at this so much, for he did not himself know which was up, and which was down.

The birds were tired out and impatient to get on.  None of them shrieked or said a funny thing, and this made everything seem peculiarly unreal.

“Think, if we have travelled away from the earth!” he said to himself.  “Think, if we are on our way up to heaven!”

He saw nothing but mists and birds around him, and began to look upon it as reasonable that they were travelling heaven-ward.  He was glad, and wondered what he should see up there.  The dizziness passed all at once.  He was so exceedingly happy at the thought that he was on his way to heaven and was leaving this earth.

Just about then he heard a couple of loud shots, and saw two white smoke-columns ascend.

There was a sudden awakening, and an unrest among the birds.  “Hunters!  Hunters!” they cried.  “Fly high!  Fly away!”

Then the boy saw, finally, that they were travelling all the while over the sea-coast, and that they certainly were not in heaven.  In a long row lay small boats filled with hunters, who fired shot upon shot.  The nearest bird-flocks hadn’t noticed them in time.  They had flown too low.  Several dark bodies sank down toward the sea; and for every one that fell, there arose cries of anguish from the living.

It was strange for one who had but lately believed himself in heaven, to wake up suddenly to such fear and lamentation.  Akka shot toward the heights as fast as she could, and the flock followed with the greatest possible speed.  The wild geese got safely out of the way, but the boy couldn’t get over his amazement.  “To think that anyone could wish to shoot upon such as Akka and Yksi and Kaksi and the goosey-gander and the others!  Human beings had no conception of what they did.”