You should not have left it to another to set out
that blue bowl!"
IN MEDELPAD
_Friday, June seventeenth_.
The boy and the eagle were out bright and early the next morning. Gorgo
hoped that he would get far up into West Bothnia that day. As luck would
have it, he heard the boy remark to himself that in a country like the
one through which they were now travelling it must be impossible for
people to live.
The land which spread below them was Southern Medelpad. When the eagle
heard the boy's remark, he replied:
"Up here they have forests for fields."
The boy thought of the contrast between the light, golden-rye fields
with their delicate blades that spring up in one summer, and the dark
spruce forest with its solid trees which took many years to ripen for
harvest.
"One who has to get his livelihood from such a field must have a deal of
patience!" he observed.
Nothing more was said until they came to a place where the forest had
been cleared, and the ground was covered with stumps and lopped-off
branches. As they flew over this ground, the eagle heard the boy mutter
to himself that it was a mighty ugly and poverty-stricken place.
"This field was cleared last winter," said the eagle.
The boy thought of the harvesters at home, who rode on their reaping
machines on fine summer mornings, and in a short time mowed a large
field.
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