'"
THE MOVING LANDSCAPE
_Saturday, June eighteenth_.
The boy had been reminded of the old Laplander's story because he
himself was now travelling over the country of which he had spoken. The
eagle told him that the expanse of coast which spread beneath them was
Westbottom, and that the blue ridges far to the west were in Lapland.
Only to be once more seated comfortably on Gorgo's back, after all that
he had suffered during the forest fire, was a pleasure. Besides, they
were having a fine trip. The flight was so easy that at times it seemed
as if they were standing still in the air. The eagle beat and beat his
wings, without appearing to move from the spot; on the other hand,
everything under them seemed in motion. The whole earth and all things
on it moved slowly southward. The forests, the fields, the fences, the
rivers, the cities, the islands, the sawmills--all were on the march.
The boy wondered whither they were bound. Had they grown tired of
standing so far north, and wished to move toward the south?
Amid all the objects in motion there was only one that stood still: that
was a railway train. It stood directly under them, for it was with the
train as with Gorgo--it could not move from the spot. The locomotive
sent forth smoke and sparks. The clatter of the wheels could be heard
all the way up to the boy, but the train did not seem to move.
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