The boy raised his head and looked around, perfectly bewildered. It was
mighty queer! Here he lay sleeping in some place where he had not been
before. No, he had never seen this glen nor the mountains round about;
and never had he noticed such puny and shrunken birches as those under
which he now lay.
Where was the eagle? The boy could see no sign of him. Gorgo must have
deserted him. Well, here was another adventure!
The boy lay down again, closed his eyes, and tried to recall the
circumstances under which he had dropped to sleep.
He remembered that as long as he was travelling over Westbottom he had
fancied that the eagle and he were at a standstill in the air, and that
the land under them was moving southward. As the eagle turned northwest,
the wind had come from that side, and again he had felt a current of
air, so that the land below had stopped moving and he had noticed that
the eagle was bearing him onward with terrific speed.
"Now we are flying into Lapland," Gorgo had said, and the boy had bent
forward, so that he might see the country of which he had heard so much.
But he had felt rather disappointed at not seeing anything but great
tracts of forest land and wide marshes. Forest followed marsh and marsh
followed forest. The monotony of the whole finally made him so sleepy
that he had nearly dropped to the ground.
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