Although he had not cared
to show his feelings before the ram, he was very sad on the sheep's
account, and he would have been glad to help them. "I can at least talk
with Akka and Morten goosey-gander about the matter," thought he.
"Perhaps they can help me with a good suggestion."
A little later the white goosey-gander took the boy on his back and went
over the mountain plain, and in the direction of Hell's Hole at that.
He wandered, care-free, on the open mountain roof--apparently
unconscious of how large and white he was. He didn't seek protection
behind tufts, or any other protuberances, but went straight ahead. It
was strange that he was not more careful, for it was apparent that he
had fared badly in yesterday's storm. He limped on his right leg, and
the left wing hung and dragged as if it might be broken.
He acted as if there were no danger, pecked at a grass-blade here and
another there, and did not look about him in any direction. The boy lay
stretched out full length on the goose-back, and looked up toward the
blue sky. He was so accustomed to riding now, that he could both stand
and lie down on the goose-back.
When the goosey-gander and the boy were so care-free, they did not
observe, of course, that the three foxes had come up on the mountain
plain.
And the foxes, who knew that it was well-nigh impossible to take the
life of a goose on an open plain, thought at first that they wouldn't
chase after the goosey-gander.
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