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'Well, you see, said Father Mikko, 'the main thing was to build the boat by magic, and we'll see now how he did that. Wainamoinen had failed to find the three magic words in the Deathland, and now he sat and pondered whither he should go next to seek them.
'I think Aino was very stupid not to want to leave that horrid Lapland, said Mimi; 'but then I suppose she didn't know what a beautiful country ours is, she added thoughtfully. Here Antero, who only cared for the stories, mustered up enough courage to ask Pappa Mikko to go on, which the old man did at once.
When they went out the next morning, they found that the snow had long since stopped, but the wind was blowing so hard and it was so bitterly cold, that Father Mikko was easily persuaded to stay another day. After dinner they settled down exactly as the day before, Mimi in 'Pappa' Mikko's lap again, and in a few minutes he began to tell them some more of his wonderful stories.
But the old man answered that he must have a little time to breathe at least. So he filled his pipe again and lighted it, and Erik brought up some more beer, and they sat and smoked and drank beer and chatted for a while. Then, when he felt rested once more, Father Mikko obeyed Mimi's urgent request and began again to tell them how Wainamoinen got home, and what happened afterwards.
Then over the meadows, still playing, until the very ferns and flowers laughed with delight and the bushes chimed in in unison with the magic music of the kantele. 'Oh! I'm so glad that he got another kantele, cried little Mimi, delighted. 'And now what is coming next, Pappa Mikko?
'Well, said Mimi, with a sigh, 'I suppose there aren't, so you might as well tell us what Wainamoinen did next, Pappa Mikko, please. And Father Mikko began again. After the magic kantele was finished, the three great heroes and magicians sailed away again towards the dismal Northland. Ilmarinen led the rowers on one side of the ship, and Lemminkainen on the other, and old Wainamoinen steered.
'I will tell you about some one you have not heard of yet, Father Mikko said; 'about Kullervo, though I am sure you will none of you like Kullervo himself but yet the story itself may be interesting. So he began. Many ages ago there was a mother who had three sons, and one of them grew up to be a prosperous merchant, but the other two were carried off one to distant Pohjola and one to Karjala.
But when he had taken his wraps off there was a general cry of recognition, and a second even more hearty welcome. 'Welcome, Father Mikko! 'What good fortune has brought you hither? 'Come up to the fire, and a chorus of cries from two little children, who greeted 'Pappa Mikko' with delight as an old and welcome acquaintance.
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