he did not care to help him. "You surely can't expect anything from me,
or the rest of the small animals!" said Sirle. "Don't you think we know
that you are Nils the goose boy, who tore down the swallow's nest last
year, crushed the starling's eggs, threw baby crows in the marl-ditch,
caught thrushes in snares, and put squirrels in cages? You just help
yourself as well as you can; and you may be thankful that we do not form
a league against you, and drive you back to your own kind!"

This was just the sort of answer the boy would not have let go
unpunished, in the days when he was Nils the goose boy. But now he was
only fearful lest the wild geese, too, had found out how wicked he could
be. He had been so anxious for fear he wouldn't be permitted to stay
with the wild geese, that he hadn't dared to get into the least little
mischief since he joined their company. It was true that he didn't have
the power to do much harm now, but, little as he was, he could have
destroyed many birds' nests, and crushed many eggs, if he'd been in a
mind to. Now he had been good. He hadn't pulled a feather from a
goose-wing, or given anyone a rude answer; and every morning when he
called upon Akka he had always removed his cap and bowed.

All day Thursday he thought it was surely on account of his wickedness
that the wild geese did not care to take him along up to Lapland. And in
the evening, when he heard that Sirle Squirrel's wife had been stolen,
and her children were starving to death, he made up his mind to help
them. And we have already been told how well he succeeded.

When the boy came into the park on Friday, he heard the bulfinches sing
in every bush, of how Sirle Squirrel's wife had been carried away from
her children by cruel robbers, and how Nils, the goose boy, had risked
his life among human beings, and taken the little squirrel children to