They travelled over a poor and desolate portion of northern
Smaland. But the sort of resting place which they wanted, they should
have been able to find; for they were no weaklings who asked for soft
beds or comfortable rooms. "If one of these long mountain-ridges had a
peak so high and steep that a fox couldn't in any way climb up to it,
then we should have a good sleeping-place," said one of them. "If a
single one of the big swamps was thawed out, and was so marshy and wet
that a fox wouldn't dare venture out on it, this, too, would be a right
good night harbour," said the second. "If the ice on one of the large
lakes we travel past were loose, so that a fox could not come out on
it, then we should have found just what we are seeking," said the third.
The worst of it was that when the sun had gone down, two of the
travellers became so sleepy that every second they were ready to fall to
the ground. The third one, who could keep himself awake, grew more and
more uneasy as night approached. "Then it was a misfortune that we came
to a land where lakes and swamps are frozen, so that a fox can get
around everywhere. In other places the ice has melted away; but now
we're well up in the very coldest Smaland, where spring has not as yet
arrived. I don't know how I shall ever manage to find a good
sleeping-place! Unless I find some spot that is well protected, Smirre
Fox will be upon us before morning.
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