Poor thing! it certainly did not think of marrying, and only hoped to obtain leave to lie among the reeds and drink some of the swamp water.

Thus it lay two whole days; then came thither two wild geese, or, properly speaking, two wild ganders.  It was not long since each had crept out of an egg, and that’s why they were so saucy.

“Listen, comrade,” said one of them.  “You’re so ugly that I like you.  Will you go with us, and become a bird of passage?  Near here, in another moor, there are a few sweet lovely wild geese, all unmarried, and all able to say ‘Rap!’ You’ve a chance of making your fortune, ugly as you are.”

“Piff! paff!” resounded through the air; and the two ganders fell down dead in the swamp, and the water became blood red.  “Piff! paff!” it sounded again, and the whole flock of wild geese rose up from the reeds.  And then there was another report.  A great hunt was going on.  The sportsmen were lying in wait all round the moor, and some were even sitting up in the branches of the trees, which spread far over the reeds.  The blue smoke rose up like clouds among the dark trees, and was wafted far away across the water; and the hunting dogs came—­splash, splash!—­into the swamp, and the rushes and the reeds bent down on every side.  That was a fright for the poor Duckling!  It turned its head, and put it under its wing; but at that moment a frightful great dog stood close by the Duckling.  His tongue hung far out of his mouth, and his eyes gleamed horrible and ugly; he thrust out his nose close against the Duckling, showed his sharp teeth, and—­splash, splash!—­on he went, without seizing it.

“Oh, Heaven be thanked!” sighed the Duckling.  “I am so ugly that even the dog does not like to bite me!”

And so it lay quite quiet, while the shots rattled through the reeds and gun after gun was fired.  At last, late in the day, all was still; but the poor Duckling did not dare to rise up; it waited several hours before it looked round, and then hastened away out of the moor as fast as it could.  It ran on over field and meadow; there was such a storm raging that it was difficult to get from one place to another.

Towards evening the Duck came to a little miserable peasant’s hut.  This hut was so dilapidated that it did not itself know on which side it should fall; and that’s why it remained standing.  The storm whistled round the Duckling in such a way that the poor creature was obliged to sit down, to stand against it; and the wind blew worse and worse.  Then the Duckling noticed that one of the hinges of the door had given way, and the door hung so slanting that the Duckling could slip through the crack into the room; and that is what it did.

Here lived a woman, with her Cat and her Hen.  And the Cat, whom she called Sonnie, could arch his back and purr, he could even give out sparks; but to make him do it one had to stroke his fur the wrong way.  The Hen had quite little, short legs, and therefore she was called Chickabiddy Short-shanks.  She laid good eggs, and the woman loved her like her own child.