Still Jarro stood there and stared at the nest, because
it came so straight toward the islet that it looked as though someone
had steered its course over the water.
As the nest came nearer, Jarro saw that a little human being--the
tiniest he had ever seen--sat in the nest and rowed it forward with a
pair of sticks. And this little human called to him: "Go as near the
water as you can, Jarro, and be ready to fly. You shall soon be freed."
A few seconds later the grebe-nest lay near land, but the little oarsman
did not leave it, but sat huddled up between branches and straw. Jarro
too held himself almost immovable. He was actually paralysed with fear
lest the rescuer should be discovered.
The next thing which occurred was that a flock of wild geese came along.
Then Jarro woke up to business, and warned them with loud shrieks; but
in spite of this they flew backward and forward over the shallows
several times. They held themselves so high that they were beyond
shooting distance; still the farm-hand let himself be tempted to fire a
couple of shots at them. These shots were hardly fired before the little
creature ran up on land, drew a tiny knife from its sheath, and, with a
couple of quick strokes, cut loose Jarro's halter. "Now fly away, Jarro,
before the man has time to load again!" cried he, while he himself ran
down to the grebe-nest and poled away from the shore.
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