So it bore on again, in the still air, and everything was as quiet as heretofore—­with the exception that some of the tired birds called out every now and then:  “Are we not there soon?  Are you sure we’re on the right track?” Hereupon, those who flew in the centre answered:  “We are flying straight to Oeland; straight to Oeland.”

The gray geese were tired out, and the loons flew around them.  “Don’t be in such a rush!” cried the ducks.  “You’ll eat up all the food before we get there.”  “Oh! there’ll be enough for both you and us,” answered the loons.

Before they had gotten so far that they saw Oeland, there came a light wind against them.  It brought with it something that resembled immense clouds of white smoke—­just as if there was a big fire somewhere.

When the birds saw the first white spiral haze, they became uneasy and increased their speed.  But that which resembled smoke blew thicker and thicker, and at last it enveloped them altogether.  They smelled no smoke; and the smoke was not dark and dry, but white and damp.  Suddenly the boy understood that it was nothing but a mist.

When the mist became so thick that one couldn’t see a goose-length ahead, the birds began to carry on like real lunatics.  All these, who before had travelled forward in such perfect order, began to play in the mist.  They flew hither and thither, to entice one another astray.  “Be careful!” they cried.  “You’re only travelling round and round.  Turn back, for pity’s sake!  You’ll never get to Oeland in this way.”

They all knew perfectly well where the island was, but they did their best to lead each other astray.  “Look at those wagtails!” rang out in the mist.  “They are going back toward the North Sea!” “Have a care, wild geese!” shrieked someone from another direction.  “If you continue like this, you’ll get clear up to Ruegen.”

There was, of course, no danger that the birds who were accustomed to travel here would permit themselves to be lured in a wrong direction.  But the ones who had a hard time of it were the wild geese.  The jesters observed that they were uncertain as to the way, and did all they could to confuse them.

“Where do you intend to go, good people?” called a swan.  He came right up to Akka, and looked sympathetic and serious.

“We shall travel to Oeland; but we have never been there before,” said Akka.  She thought that this was a bird to be trusted.

“It’s too bad,” said the swan.  “They have lured you in the wrong direction.  You’re on the road to Blekinge.  Now come with me, and I’ll put you right!”

And so he flew off with them; and when he had taken them so far away from the track that they heard no calls, he disappeared in the mist.

They flew around for a while at random.  They had barely succeeded in finding the birds again, when a duck approached them.  “It’s best that you lie down on the water until the mist clears,” said the duck.  “It is evident that you are not accustomed to look out for yourselves on journeys.”