"
But just as Smirre was waiting to hear the geese's death-rattle, he saw
the marten tumble from branch to branch--and plump into the river so the
water splashed high. Soon thereafter, wings beat loudly and strongly and
all the geese went up in a hurried flight.
Smirre intended to hurry after the geese, but he was so curious to know
how they had been saved, that he sat there until the marten came
clambering up. That poor thing was soaked in mud, and stopped every now
and then to rub his head with his forepaws. "Now wasn't that just what I
thought--that you were a booby, and would go and tumble into the river?"
said Smirre, contemptuously.
"I haven't acted boobyishly. You don't need to scold me," said the
marten. "I sat--all ready--on one of the lowest branches and thought how
I should manage to tear a whole lot of geese to pieces, when a little
creature, no bigger than a squirrel, jumped up and threw a stone at my
head with such force, that I fell into the water; and before I had time
to pick myself up--"
The marten didn't have to say any more. He had no audience. Smirre was
already a long way off in pursuit of the wild geese.
In the meantime Akka had flown southward in search of a new
sleeping-place. There was still a little daylight; and, beside, the
half-moon stood high in the heavens, so that she could see a little.
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