"How does it look down there where you are?" the boy asked.
"Cliffs in the west, woods in the east, broad valleys across the whole
country," replied the rooster.
"Thank you," cried the boy. "You give a clear account of it."
When they had travelled a little farther, he heard a crow cawing down in
the mist.
"What kind of people live in this country?" shouted the boy.
"Good, thrifty peasants," answered the crow. "Good, thrifty peasants."
"What do they do?" asked the boy. "What do they do?"
"They raise cattle and fell forests," cawed the crow.
"Thanks," replied the boy. "You answer well."
A bit farther on he heard a human voice yodeling and singing down in the
mist.
"Is there any large city in this part of the country?" the boy asked.
"What--what--who is it that calls?" cried the human voice.
"Is there any large city in this region?" the boy repeated.
"I want to know who it is that calls," shouted the human voice.
"I might have known that I could get no information when I asked a human
being a civil question," the boy retorted.
It was not long before the mist went away as suddenly as it had come.
Then the boy saw a beautiful landscape, with high cliffs as in Jaemtland,
but there were no large, flourishing settlements on the mountain slopes.
The villages lay far apart, and the farms were small.
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