Lagerlöf Selma
The Wonderful Adventures of Nils
HELPLESS, THE WATER-SNAKE
In a pine thicket in the heart of Liberty Forest, every year, in the month of August, there appeared a few grayish-white moths of the kind which are called nun moths. They were small and few in number, and scarcely any one noticed them. When they had fluttered about in the depth of the forest a couple of nights, they laid a few thousand eggs on the branches of trees; and shortly afterward dropped lifeless to the ground.
When spring came, little prickly caterpillars crawled out from the eggs and began to eat the pine needles. They had good appetites, but they never seemed to do the trees any serious harm, because they were hotly pursued by birds. It was seldom that more than a few hundred caterpillars escaped the pursuers.
The poor things that lived to be full grown crawled up on the branches, spun white webs around themselves, and sat for a couple of weeks as motionless pupae. During this period, as a rule, more than half of them were abducted. If a hundred nun moths came forth in August, winged and perfect, it was reckoned a good year for them.
This sort of uncertain and obscure existence did the moths lead for many years in Liberty Forest. There were no insect folk in the whole country that were so scarce, and they would have remained quite harmless and powerless had they not, most unexpectedly, received a helper.
This fact has some connection with Grayskin's flight from the game-keeper's paddock. Grayskin roamed the forest that he might become more familiar with the place. Late in the afternoon he happened to squeeze through some thickets behind a clearing where the soil was muddy and slimy, and in the centre of it was a murky pool. This open space was encircled by tall pines almost bare from age and miasmic air. Grayskin was displeased with the place and would have left it at once had he not caught sight of some bright green calla leaves which grew near the pool.
As he bent his head toward the calla stalks, he happened to disturb a big black snake, which lay sleeping under them. Grayskin had heard Karr speak of the poisonous adders that were to be found in the forest. So, when the snake raised its head, shot out its tongue and hissed at him, he thought he had encountered an awfully dangerous reptile. He was terrified and, raising his foot, he struck so hard with his hoof that he crushed the snake's head. Then, away he ran in hot haste!
As soon as Grayskin had gone, another snake, just as long and as black as the first, came up from the pool. It crawled over to the dead one, and licked the poor, crushed-in head.
"Can it be true that you are dead, old Harmless?" hissed the snake. "We two have lived together so many years; we two have been so happy with each other, and have fared so well here in the swamp, that we have lived to be older than all the other water-snakes in the forest! This is the worst sorrow that could have befallen me!"
The snake was so broken-hearted that his long body writhed as if it had been wounded. Even the frogs, who lived in constant fear of him, were sorry for him.
"What a wicked creature he must be to murder a poor water-snake that cannot defend itself!" hissed the snake. "He certainly deserves a severe punishment. As sure as my name is Helpless and I'm the oldest water-snake in the whole forest, I'll be avenged! I shall not rest until that elk lies as dead on the ground as my poor old snake-wife."
When the snake had made this vow he curled up into a hoop and began to ponder. One can hardly imagine anything that would be more difficult for a poor water-snake than to wreak vengeance upon a big, strong elk; and old Helpless pondered day and night without finding any solution.
One night, as he lay there with his vengeance-thoughts, he heard a slight rustle over his head. He glanced up and saw a few light nun moths playing in among the trees.
He followed them with his eyes a long while; then began to hiss loudly to himself, apparently pleased with the thought that had occurred to him – then he fell asleep.
The next morning the water-snake went over to see Crawlie, the adder, who lived in a stony and hilly part of Liberty Forest. He told him all about the death of the old water-snake, and begged that he who could deal such deadly thrusts would undertake the work of vengeance. But Crawlie was not exactly disposed to go to war with an elk.
"If I were to attack an elk," said the adder, "he would instantly kill me. Old Harmless is dead and gone, and we can't bring her back to life, so why should I rush into danger on her account?"
When the water-snake got this reply he raised his head a whole foot from the ground, and hissed furiously:
"Vish vash! Vish vash!" he said. "It's a pity that you, who have been blessed with such weapons of defence, should be so cowardly that you don't dare use them!"
When the adder heard this, he, too, got angry.
"Crawl away, old Helpless!" he hissed. "The poison is in my fangs, but I would rather spare one who is said to be my kinsman."
But the water-snake did not move from the spot, and for a long time the snakes lay there hissing abusive epithets at each other.
When Crawlie was so angry that he couldn't hiss, but could only dart his tongue out, the water-snake changed the subject, and began to talk in a very different tone.
"I had still another errand, Crawlie," he said, lowering his voice to a mild whisper. "But now I suppose you are so angry that you wouldn't care to help me?"
"If you don't ask anything foolish of me, I shall certainly be at your service."
"In the pine trees down by the swamp live a moth folk that fly around all night."
"I know all about them," remarked Crawlie. "What's up with them now?"
"They are the smallest insect family in the forest," said Helpless, "and the most harmless, since the caterpillars content themselves with gnawing only pine needles."
"Yes, I know," said Crawlie.
"I'm afraid those moths will soon be exterminated," sighed the water-snake. "There are so many who pick off the caterpillars in the spring."
Now Crawlie began to understand that the water-snake wanted the caterpillars for his own purpose, and he answered pleasantly:
"Do you wish me to say to the owls that they are to leave those pine tree worms in peace?"
"Yes, it would be well if you who have some authority in the forest should do this," said Helpless.
"I might also drop a good word for the pine needle pickers among the thrushes?" volunteered the adder. "I will gladly serve you when you do not demand anything unreasonable."
"Now you have given me a good promise, Crawlie," said Helpless, "and I'm glad that I came to you."
THE NUN MOTHS
One morning – several years later – Karr lay asleep on the porch. It was in the early summer, the season of light nights, and it was as bright as day, although the sun was not yet up. Karr was awakened by some one calling his name.
"Is it you, Grayskin?" he asked, for he was accustomed to the elk's nightly visits. Again he heard the call; then he recognized Grayskin's voice, and hastened in the direction of the sound.
Karr heard the elk's footfalls in the distance, as he dashed into the thickest pine wood, and straight through the brush, following no trodden path. Karr could not catch up with him, and he had great difficulty in even following the trail. "Karr, Karri" came the cry, and the voice was certainly Grayskin's, although it had a ring now which the dog had never heard before.
"I'm coming, I'm coming!" the dog responded. "Where are you?"
"Karr, Karr! Don't you see how it falls and falls?" said Grayskin.
Then Karr noticed that the pine needles kept dropping and dropping from the trees, like a steady fall of rain.
"Yes, I see how it falls," he cried, and ran far into the forest in search of the elk.
Grayskin kept running through the thickets, while Karr was about to lose the trail again.
"Karr, Karr!" roared Grayskin; "can't you scent that peculiar odour in the forest?"
Karr stopped and sniffed.
He had not thought of it before, but now he remarked that the pines sent forth a much stronger odour than usual.
"Yes, I catch the scent," he said. He did not stop long enough to find out the cause of it, but hurried on after Grayskin.
The elk ran ahead with such speed that the dog could not catch up with him.
"Karr, Karr!" he called; "can't you hear the crunching on the pines?"
Now his tone was so plaintive it would have melted a stone.
Karr paused to listen. He heard a faint but distinct "tap, tap," on the trees. It sounded like the ticking of a watch.
"Yes, I hear how it ticks," cried Karr, and ran no farther. He understood that the elk did not want him to follow, but to take notice of something that was happening in the forest.
Karr was standing beneath the drooping branches of a great pine. He looked carefully at it; the needles moved. He went closer and saw a mass of grayish-white caterpillars creeping along the branches, gnawing off the needles. Every branch was covered with them. The crunch, crunch in the trees came from the working of their busy little jaws. Gnawed-off needles fell to the ground in a continuous shower, and from the poor pines there came such a strong odour that the dog suffered from it.
"What can be the meaning of this?" wondered Karr. "It's too bad about the pretty trees! Soon they'll have no beauty left."
He walked from tree to tree, trying with his poor eyesight to see if all was well with them.
"There's a pine they haven't touched," he thought. But they had taken possession of it, too. "And here's a birch – no, this also! The game-keeper will not be pleased with this," observed Karr.
He ran deeper into the thickets, to learn how far the destruction had spread. Wherever he went, he heard the same ticking; scented the same odour; saw the same needle rain. There was no need of his pausing to investigate. He understood it all by these signs. The little caterpillars were everywhere. The whole forest was being ravaged by them!
All of a sudden he came to a tract where there was no odour, and where all was still.
"Here's the end of their domain," thought the dog, as he paused and glanced about.
But here it was even worse; for the caterpillars had already done their work, and the trees were needleless. They were like the dead. The only thing that covered them was a network of ragged threads, which the caterpillars had spun to use as roads and bridges.
In there, among the dying trees, Grayskin stood waiting for Karr.
He was not alone. With him were four old elk – the most respected in the forest. Karr knew them: They were Crooked-Back, who was a small elk, but had a larger hump than the others; Antler-Crown, who was the most dignified of the elk; Rough-Mane, with the thick coat; and an old long-legged one, who, up till the autumn before, when he got a bullet in his thigh, had been terribly hot-tempered and quarrelsome.
"What in the world is happening to the forest?" Karr asked when he came up to the elk. They stood with lowered heads, far protruding upper lips, and looked puzzled.
"No one can tell," answered Grayskin. "This insect family used to be the least hurtful of any in the forest, and never before have they done any damage. But these last few years they have been multiplying so fast that now it appears as if the entire forest would be destroyed."
"Yes, it looks bad," Karr agreed, "but I see that the wisest animals in the forest have come together to hold a consultation. Perhaps you have already found some remedy?"
When the dog said this, Crooked-Back solemnly raised his heavy head, pricked up his long ears, and spoke:
"We have summoned you hither, Karr, that we may learn if the humans know of this desolation."
"No," said Karr, "no human being ever comes thus far into the forest when it's not hunting time. They know nothing of this misfortune."
Then Antler-Crown said:
"We who have lived long in the forest do not think that we can fight this insect pest all by ourselves."
"After this there will be no peace in the forest!" put in Rough-Mane.
"But we can't let the whole Liberty Forest go to rack and ruin!" protested Big-and-Strong. "We'll have to consult the humans; there is no alternative."
Karr understood that the elk had difficulty in expressing what they wished to say, and he tried to help them.
"Perhaps you want me to let the people know the conditions here?" he suggested.
All the old elk nodded their heads.
"It's most unfortunate that we are obliged to ask help of human beings, but we have no choice."
A moment later Karr was on his way home. As he ran ahead, deeply distressed over all that he had heard and seen, a big black water-snake approached them.
"Well met in the forest!" hissed the water-snake.
"Well met again!" snarled Karr, and rushed by without stopping.
The snake turned and tried to catch up to him.
"Perhaps that creature also, is worried about the forest," thought Karr, and waited.
Immediately the snake began to talk about the great disaster.
"There will be an end of peace and quiet in the forest when human beings are called hither," said the snake.
"I'm afraid there will," the dog agreed; "but the oldest forest dwellers know what they're about!" he added.
"I think I know a better plan," said the snake, "if I can get the reward
I wish."
"Are you not the one whom every one around here calls old Helpless?" said the dog, sneeringly.
"I'm an old inhabitant of the forest," said the snake, "and I know how to get rid of such plagues."
"If you clear the forest of that pest, I feel sure you can have anything you ask for," said Karr.
The snake did not respond to this until he had crawled under a tree stump, where he was well protected. Then he said:
"Tell Grayskin that if he will leave Liberty Forest forever, and go far north, where no oak tree grows, I will send sickness and death to all the creeping things that gnaw the pines and spruces!"
"What's that you say?" asked Karr, bristling up. "What harm has Grayskin ever done you?"
"He has slain the one whom I loved best," the snake declared, "and I want to be avenged."
Before the snake had finished speaking, Karr made a dash for him; but the reptile lay safely hidden under the tree stump.
"Stay where you are!" Karr concluded. "We'll manage to drive out the caterpillars without your help."
THE BIG WAR OF THE MOTHS
The following spring, as Karr was dashing through the forest one morning, he heard some one behind him calling: "Karr! Karr!"
He turned and saw an old fox standing outside his lair.
"You must tell me if the humans are doing anything for the forest," said the fox.
"Yes, you may be sure they are!" said Karr. "They are working as hard as they can."
"They have killed off all my kinsfolk, and they'll be killing me next," protested the fox. "But they shall be pardoned for that if only they save the forest."
That year Karr never ran into the woods without some animal's asking if the humans could save the forest. It was not easy for the dog to answer; the people themselves were not certain that they could conquer the moths. But considering how feared and hated old Kolmården had always been, it was remarkable that every day more than a hundred men went there, to work. They cleared away the underbrush. They felled dead trees, lopped off branches from the live ones so that the caterpillars could not easily crawl from tree to tree; they also dug wide trenches around the ravaged parts and put up lime-washed fences to keep them out of new territory. Then they painted rings of lime around the trunks of trees to prevent the caterpillars leaving those they had already stripped. The idea was to force them to remain where they were until they starved to death.
The people worked with the forest until far into the spring. They were hopeful, and could hardly wait for the caterpillars to come out from their eggs, feeling certain that they had shut them in so effectually that most of them would die of starvation.
But in the early summer the caterpillars came out, more numerous than ever.
They were everywhere! They crawled on the country roads, on fences, on the walls of the cabins. They wandered outside the confines of Liberty Forest to other parts of Kolmården.
"They won't stop till all our forests are destroyed!" sighed the people, who were in great despair, and could not enter the forest without weeping.
Karr was so sick of the sight of all these creeping, gnawing things that he could hardly bear to step outside the door. But one day he felt that he must go and find out how Grayskin was getting on. He took the shortest cut to the elk's haunts, and hurried along – his nose close to the earth. When he came to the tree stump where he had met Helpless the year before, the snake was still there, and called to him:
"Have you told Grayskin what I said to you when last we met?" asked the water-snake.
Karr only growled and tried to get at him.
"If you haven't told him, by all means do so!" insisted the snake. "You must see that the humans know of no cure for this plague."
"Neither do you!" retorted the dog, and ran on.
Karr found Grayskin, but the elk was so low-spirited that he scarcely greeted the dog. He began at once to talk of the forest.
"I don't know what I wouldn't give if this misery were only at an end!" he said.
"Now I shall tell you that 'tis said you could save the forest." Then
Karr delivered the water-snake's message.
"If any one but Helpless had promised this, I should immediately go into exile," declared the elk. "But how can a poor water-snake have the power to work such a miracle?"
"Of course it's only a bluff," said Karr. "Water-snakes always like to pretend that they know more than other creatures."
When Karr was ready to go home, Grayskin accompanied him part of the way. Presently Karr heard a thrush, perched on a pine top, cry:
"There goes Grayskin, who has destroyed the forest! There goes Grayskin, who has destroyed the forest!"
Karr thought that he had not heard correctly, but the next moment a hare came darting across the path. When the hare saw them, he stopped, flapped his ears, and screamed:
"Here comes Grayskin, who has destroyed the forest!" Then he ran as fast as he could.
"What do they mean by that?" asked Karr.
"I really don't know," said Grayskin. "I think that the small forest animals are displeased with me because I was the one who proposed that we should ask help of human beings. When the underbrush was cut down, all their lairs and hiding places were destroyed."
They walked on together a while longer, and Karr heard the same cry coming from all directions:
"There goes Grayskin, who has destroyed the forest!"
Grayskin pretended not to hear it; but Karr understood why the elk was so downhearted.
"I say, Grayskin, what does the water-snake mean by saying you killed the one he loved best?"
"How can I tell?" said Grayskin. "You know very well that I never kill anything."
Shortly after that they met the four old elk – Crooked-Back, Antler-Crown, Rough-Mane, and Big-and-Strong, who were coming along slowly, one after the other.
"Well met in the forest!" called Grayskin.
"Well met in turn!" answered the elk.
"We were just looking for you, Grayskin, to consult with you about the forest."
"The fact is," began Crooked-Back, "we have been informed that a crime has been committed here, and that the whole forest is being destroyed because the criminal has not been punished."
"What kind of a crime was it?"
"Some one killed a harmless creature that he couldn't eat. Such an act is accounted a crime in Liberty Forest."
"Who could have done such a cowardly thing?" wondered Grayskin.
"They say that an elk did it, and we were just going to ask if you knew who it was."
"No," said Grayskin, "I have never heard of an elk killing a harmless creature."
Grayskin parted from the four old elk, and went on with Karr. He was silent and walked with lowered head. They happened to pass Crawlie, the adder, who lay on his shelf of rock.
"There goes Grayskin, who has destroyed the whole forest!" hissed
Crawlie, like all the rest.
By that time Grayskin's patience was exhausted. He walked up to the snake, and raised a forefoot.
"Do you think of crushing me as you crushed the old water-snake?" hissed
Crawlie.
"Did I kill a water-snake?" asked Grayskin, astonished.
"The first day you were in the forest you killed the wife of poor old
Helpless," said Crawlie.
Grayskin turned quickly from the adder, and continued his walk with
Karr. Suddenly he stopped.
"Karr, it was I who committed that crime! I killed a harmless creature; therefore it is on my account that the forest is being destroyed."
"What are you saying?" Karr interrupted.
"You may tell the water-snake, Helpless, that Grayskin goes into exile to-night!"
"That I shall never tell him!" protested Karr. "The Far North is a dangerous country for elk."
"Do you think that I wish to remain here, when I have caused a disaster like this?" protested Grayskin.
"Don't be rash! Sleep over it before you do anything!"
"It was you who taught me that the elk are one with the forest," said
Grayskin, and so saying he parted from Karr.
The dog went home alone; but this talk with Grayskin troubled him, and the next morning he returned to the forest to seek him, but Grayskin was not to be found, and the dog did not search long for him. He realized that the elk had taken the snake at his word, and had gone into exile.
On his walk home Karr was too unhappy for words! He could not understand why Grayskin should allow that wretch of a water-snake to trick him away. He had never heard of such folly! "What power can that old Helpless have?"
As Karr walked along, his mind full of these thoughts, he happened to see the game-keeper, who stood pointing up at a tree.
"What are you looking at?" asked a man who stood beside him.
"Sickness has come among the caterpillars," observed the game-keeper.
Karr was astonished, but he was even more angered at the snake's having the power to keep his word. Grayskin would have to stay away a long long time, for, of course, that water-snake would never die.
At the very height of his grief a thought came to Karr which comforted him a little.
"Perhaps the water-snake won't live so long, after all!" he thought. "Surely he cannot always lie protected under a tree root. As soon as he has cleaned out the caterpillars, I know some one who is going to bite his head off!"
It was true that an illness had made its appearance among the caterpillars. The first summer it did not spread much. It had only just broken out when it was time for the larvae to turn into pupae. From the latter came millions of moths. They flew around in the trees like a blinding snowstorm, and laid countless numbers of eggs. An even greater destruction was prophesied for the following year.
The destruction came not only to the forest, but also to the caterpillars. The sickness spread quickly from forest to forest. The sick caterpillars stopped eating, crawled up to the branches of the trees, and died there.
There was great rejoicing among the people when they saw them die, but there was even greater rejoicing among the forest animals.
From day to day the dog Karr went about with savage glee, thinking of the hour when he might venture to kill Helpless.
But the caterpillars, meanwhile, had spread over miles of pine woods. Not in one summer did the disease reach them all. Many lived to become pupas and moths.
Grayskin sent messages to his friend Karr by the birds of passage, to say that he was alive and faring well. But the birds told Karr confidentially that on several occasions Grayskin had been pursued by poachers, and that only with the greatest difficulty had he escaped.
Karr lived in a state of continual grief, yearning, and anxiety. Yet he had to wait two whole summers more before there was an end of the caterpillars!
Karr no sooner heard the game-keeper say that the forest was out of danger than he started on a hunt for Helpless. But when he was in the thick of the forest he made a frightful discovery: He could not hunt any more, he could not run, he could not track his enemy, and he could not see at all!
During the long years of waiting, old age had overtaken Karr. He had grown old without having noticed it. He had not the strength even to kill a water-snake. He was not able to save his friend Grayskin from his enemy.
