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Pelle the Conqueror — Volume 01 by Martin Andersen Nexø
page 45 of 397 (11%)

Out of the open half-doors of the smaller outbuildings there came
a steamy warmth that smelt pleasantly of calves and pigs. The pigs
were hard at work. All through the long sty there was munching and
smacking. One old sow supped up the liquid through the corners of
her mouth, another snuffed and bubbled with her snout along the
bottom of the trough to find the rotten potatoes under the liquid.
Here and there two pigs were fighting over the trough, and emitting
piercing squeals. The calves put their slobbering noses out at the
doors, gazing into the sunny air and lowing feelingly. One little
fellow, after snuffing up air from the cow-stable in a peculiarly
thorough way, turned up his lip in a foolish grin: it was a bull-
calf. He laid his chin upon the half-door, and tried to jump over,
but Pelle drove him down again. Then he kicked up his hind legs,
looked at Pelle out of the corner of his eye, and stood with arched
back, lifting his fore and hindquarters alternately with the action
of a rocking-horse. He was light-headed with the sun.

Down on the pond, ducks and geese stood upon their heads in the
water, flourishing their red legs in the air. And all at once the
whole flock would have an attack of giddy delight in the sunshine,
and splash screaming from bank to bank, the last part of the way
sliding along the top of the water with a comical wagging of the
tail.

Pelle had promised himself much from this couple of hours that were
to be entirely his own, as his father had given him a holiday until
the time came for the midday work. But now he stood in bewilderment,
overwhelmed by the wealth of possibilities. Would it be the best fun
to sail upon the pond on two tail-boards laid one across the other?
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