"Not this year."
The wild geese followed Taberg River down toward Monk Lake, and all the
while they made the same racket. Here, on the narrow land-strip between
Monk and Vettern lakes, lay Joenkoeping with its great factories. The wild
geese rode first over Monksjoe paper mills. The noon rest hour was just
over, and the big workmen were streaming down to the mill-gate. When
they heard the wild geese, they stopped a moment to listen to them.
"Where are you going? Where are you going?" called the workmen. The wild
geese understood nothing of what they said, but the boy answered for
them: "There, where there are neither machines nor steam-boxes." When
the workmen heard the answer, they believed it was their own longing
that made the goose-cackle sound like human speech. "Take us along with
you!" "Not this year," answered the boy. "Not this year."
Next, the geese rode over the well-known match factory, which lies on
the shores of Vettern--large as a fortress--and lifts its high chimneys
toward the sky. Not a soul moved out in the yards; but in a large hall
young working-women sat and filled match-boxes. They had opened a window
on account of the beautiful weather, and through it came the wild
geese's call. The one who sat nearest the window, leaned out with a
match-box in her hand, and cried: "Where are you going? Where are you
going?" "To that land where there is no need of either light or
matches," said the boy.
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