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He had not the strength even to kill a water-snake. He was not able to save his friend Grayskin from his enemy. One afternoon Akka from Kebnekaise and her flock alighted on the shore of a forest lake. Spring was backward as it always is in the mountain districts. Ice covered all the lake save a narrow strip next the land. The geese at once plunged into the water to bathe and hunt for food.
The poor youngsters had never before been on a long trip and at first they had difficulty in keeping up with the rapid flight. "Akka from Kebnekaise! Akka from Kebnekaise!" they cried in plaintive tones. "What's the matter?" said the leader-goose sharply. "Our wings are tired of moving, our wings are tired of moving!" wailed the young ones.
He tried to take deeper breaths and quicker wing-strokes, but even so he remained several goose-lengths behind the others. When the wild geese who flew last, noticed that the tame one couldn't keep up with them, they began to call to the goose who rode in the centre of the angle and led the procession: "Akka from Kebnekaise! Akka from Kebnekaise!" "What do you want of me?" asked the leader.
He had stood on snow-capped Mount Kebnekaise, had looked down at the glaciers and visited many high cliffs seldom tramped by human feet. Akka had shown him deep-hidden mountain dales and had let him peep into caves where mother wolves brought up their young.
"Akka, Akka, Akka from Kebnekaise!" wailed the goslings pitifully. "What's the trouble now?" asked the leader-goose. "We're so hungry, we can't fly any more!" whimpered the goslings. "We're so hungry, we can't fly any more!" "Wild geese must learn to eat air and drink wind," said the leader-goose, and kept right on flying.
It was only upon the eyes that time had had no effect. They shone brighter as if they were younger than any of the others! She turned, very haughtily, toward the goosey-gander. "Understand, Mr. Tame-goose, that I am Akka from Kebnekaise! And that the goose who flies nearest me to the right is Iksi from Vassijaure, and the one to the left, is Kaksi from Nuolja!
When Smirre Fox sank down on a pile of dry leaves, weak and powerless and almost ready to give up the ghost, they stopped teasing him. "Now you know, Mr. Fox, what happens to the one who dares to come near Akka of Kebnekaise!" they shouted in his ear; and with that they left him in peace. Thursday, March twenty-fourth.
Two years before Nils Holgersson travelled with the wild geese the old leader-goose, Akka from Kebnekaise, was standing at the foot of the mountain slope looking toward the eagle's nest.
"Akka, Akka, Akka from Kebnekaise!" cried those who flew last and saw what a hard time he was having. "What do you want now?" asked the leader and she sounded awfully angry. "The white one sinks to the earth; the white one sinks to the earth." "Tell him it's easier to fly high than low!" shouted the leader, and she didn't slow up the least little bit, but raced on as before.
He felt thoroughly exasperated. To think that his strength should fail him now, so he wouldn't be able to show these tramps that even a tame goose was good for something! But the most provoking thing of all was that he had fallen in with Akka from Kebnekaise. Tame goose that he was, he had heard about a leader goose, named Akka, who was more than a hundred years old.
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