had heard the bullets whizz around his ears. He had lain in hiding, down
in the lair, while the dachshunds crept into the crevices and all but
found him. But all the anguish that Smirre Fox had been forced to suffer
under this hot chase, was not to be compared with what he suffered every
time that he missed one of the wild geese.

In the morning, when the play began, Smirre Fox had looked so stunning
that the geese were amazed when they saw him. Smirre loved display. His
coat was a brilliant red; his breast white; his nose black; and his tail
was as bushy as a plume. But when the evening of this day was come,
Smirre's coat hung in loose folds. He was bathed in sweat; his eyes were
without lustre; his tongue hung far out from his gaping jaws; and froth
oozed from his mouth.

In the afternoon Smirre was so exhausted that he grew delirious. He saw
nothing before his eyes but flying geese. He made leaps for sun-spots
which he saw on the ground; and for a poor little butterfly that had
come out of his chrysalis too soon.

The wild geese flew and flew, unceasingly. All day long they continued
to torment Smirre. They were not moved to pity because Smirre was done
up, fevered, and out of his head. They continued without a let-up,
although they understood that he hardly saw them, and that he jumped
after their shadows.

When Smirre Fox sank down on a pile of dry leaves, weak and powerless
and almost ready to give up the ghost, they stopped teasing him.

"Now you know, Mr. Fox, what happens to the one who dares to come near
Akka of Kebnekaise!" they shouted in his ear; and with that they left