before the juniper. "Catch hold of me," said the heather. The juniper
did so, and where there was only a wee crevice, the heather thrust in a
finger, and where it first had placed a finger, the juniper took hold
with its whole hand. They crawled and crept along, the fir laboring on
behind, the birch also. "This is well worth doing," said the birch.

But the mountain began to ponder on what manner of insignificant objects
these might be that were clambering up over it. And after it had been
considering the matter a few hundred years, it sent a little brook down
to inquire. It was yet in the time of the spring freshets, and the brook
stole on until it reached the heather. "Dear, dear heather, cannot you
let me pass? I am so small." The heather was very busy; only raised
itself a little and pressed onward. In, under, and onward went the
brook. "Dear, dear juniper, cannot you let me pass? I am so small." The
juniper looked sharply at it; but if the heather had let it pass, why,
in all reason, it must do so too. Under it and onward went the brook;
and now came to the spot where the fir stood puffing on the hill-side.
"Dear, dear fir, cannot you let me pass? I am really so small," said the
brook,--and it kissed the fir's feet and made itself so very sweet. The
fir became bashful at this, and let it pass. But the birch raised itself
before the brook asked it. "Hi, hi, hi!" said the brook, and grew. "Ha,
ha, ha!" said the brook, and grew. "Ho, ho, ho!" said the brook, and
flung the heather and the juniper and the fir and the birch flat on
their faces and backs, up and down these great hills. The mountain sat
up for many hundred years musing on whether it had not smiled a
little that day.

It was plain enough: the mountain did not want to be clad. The heather
fretted over this until it grew green again, and then it started
forward. "Fresh courage!" said the heather.