They were tied to the reindeer, the little robber-girl opened the
door, made all the big dogs come away, cut through the halter
with her sharp knife, and said to the reindeer, 'Run now! But
take great care of the little girl.'

And Gerda stretched out her hands with the large fur gloves
towards the little robber-girl and said, 'Good-bye!'

Then the reindeer flew over the ground, through the great forest,
as fast as he could.

The wolves howled, the ravens screamed, the sky seemed on fire.

'Those are my dear old northern lights,' said the reindeer; 'see
how they shine!'

And then he ran faster still, day and night.

The loaves were eaten, and the sausage also, and then they came
to Lapland.

They stopped by a wretched little house; the roof almost touched
the ground, and the door was so low that you had to creep in and
out.

There was no one in the house except an old Lapland woman who was
cooking fish over an oil-lamp. The reindeer told Gerda's whole
history, but first he told his own, for that seemed to him much
more important, and Gerda was so cold that she could not speak.