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LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN
LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN
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CONTENTS
Page
Chapter I
The Gnome 9
Chapter II
The Ghost 22
Chapter III
The Plan 35
Chapter IV
The Christmas Celebration 46
Chapter V
The Spring 61
Chapter VI
The Capital 78
Chapter VII
The Wedding Date 95
Chapter VIII
The Trip 110
Chapter IX
The Göta Canal 126
Chapter X
The Return 136
Chapter XI
The Rescue 148
[Illustration: LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN]
LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN
"_As a child I sang with every step I took,
and with every jump my feet made._"
--Jenny Lind.
CHAPTER I
THE GNOME
Erik sang as he skated across the lake. The lake glistened with chill,
bluish crispness like steel.
It was as natural for Erik to sing as it was for most little boys to
breathe. Sometimes it seemed that he had the throat of a bird.
"Down the mountainside came thundering,
Fierce and wild, a giant tall."
It was Greta who had taught Erik these fairy-tale songs. Greta made them
up. She was the eighteen-year-old daughter of Fru Hansson, who owned
Hanssonborg, the large estate where Erik lived. Erik was the son of a
poor tenant farmer, but Greta had always treated him like her own little
brother. They were often together, and Erik thought her as beautiful as
any fairy-tale princess.
"Carried off the lovely princess,
To his gloomy dungeon--"
[Illustration: HANSSONBORG, WHERE ERIK LIVES
_Paul's Photos_]
Suddenly Erik stopped singing and stood still to listen. He had heard
the music of sleigh bells on the other side of the snowy pine forest.
Now came the thud of horses' hoofs and the crunch of a sleigh's runners,
as it stopped before the Hansson home.
"Christmas is coming!" smiled Erik, and struck out again in big,
vigorous strides. Christmas in Sweden means visitors and fun and lots of
food; and Erik licked his lips. His cheeks glowed with health like
ruddy, round apples. His blue eyes caught the icy sparkles from under
his feet, and he began to sing once more.
"So the brave prince slew the giant,
Carried off the princess fair."
But Erik would not have been so happy if he had known who it was that
had just arrived at Hanssonborg. He would not have sung so lustily
about wicked giants carrying off fair princesses. For something
unpleasant and very real was happening to his friend Greta.
Darkness was falling fast. In Sweden, the winter sunlight is shy. It
shows itself late in the morning, and then by early afternoon, it has
run away again.
Erik skated to shore. He took off his skates and started walking through
the woods toward home. A Swedish law says that everyone who cuts down a
tree must plant a new one; so the Swedish forests are thick and
beautiful.
Little, lighted candles glowed in the windows of Erik's cottage, which
was painted red and had white window frames. Vacation time was a good
time, he thought, as he stamped into the cozy kitchen, where a big fire
crackled.
His brother Nils sat at a rough, wooden table. Nils's arms were crossed
in front of him, and his head rested upon them. How could he study with
his head so low? Surely he was not asleep--not big Nils! Why, he was
always far too busy studying his farm books or working on the estate to
fall asleep in the daytime. What was the matter?
Erik stood in the center of the room with his legs apart and his snow
cap pushed back upon his fair, curly hair.
"Ho, Nils!" he shouted.
The older brother did not stir. Erik went over and tapped him on the
shoulder.
"I say, what's wrong?"
The young man raised his head. He had a strong, brave face, but just now
there was a shadow over it.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked.
The little boy shook his head.
Page
Chapter I
The Gnome 9
Chapter II
The Ghost 22
Chapter III
The Plan 35
Chapter IV
The Christmas Celebration 46
Chapter V
The Spring 61
Chapter VI
The Capital 78
Chapter VII
The Wedding Date 95
Chapter VIII
The Trip 110
Chapter IX
The Göta Canal 126
Chapter X
The Return 136
Chapter XI
The Rescue 148
[Illustration: LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN]
LITTLE ERIK OF SWEDEN
"_As a child I sang with every step I took,
and with every jump my feet made._"
--Jenny Lind.
CHAPTER I
THE GNOME
Erik sang as he skated across the lake. The lake glistened with chill,
bluish crispness like steel.
It was as natural for Erik to sing as it was for most little boys to
breathe. Sometimes it seemed that he had the throat of a bird.
"Down the mountainside came thundering,
Fierce and wild, a giant tall."
It was Greta who had taught Erik these fairy-tale songs. Greta made them
up. She was the eighteen-year-old daughter of Fru Hansson, who owned
Hanssonborg, the large estate where Erik lived. Erik was the son of a
poor tenant farmer, but Greta had always treated him like her own little
brother. They were often together, and Erik thought her as beautiful as
any fairy-tale princess.
"Carried off the lovely princess,
To his gloomy dungeon--"
[Illustration: HANSSONBORG, WHERE ERIK LIVES
_Paul's Photos_]
Suddenly Erik stopped singing and stood still to listen. He had heard
the music of sleigh bells on the other side of the snowy pine forest.
Now came the thud of horses' hoofs and the crunch of a sleigh's runners,
as it stopped before the Hansson home.
"Christmas is coming!" smiled Erik, and struck out again in big,
vigorous strides. Christmas in Sweden means visitors and fun and lots of
food; and Erik licked his lips. His cheeks glowed with health like
ruddy, round apples. His blue eyes caught the icy sparkles from under
his feet, and he began to sing once more.
"So the brave prince slew the giant,
Carried off the princess fair."
But Erik would not have been so happy if he had known who it was that
had just arrived at Hanssonborg. He would not have sung so lustily
about wicked giants carrying off fair princesses. For something
unpleasant and very real was happening to his friend Greta.
Darkness was falling fast. In Sweden, the winter sunlight is shy. It
shows itself late in the morning, and then by early afternoon, it has
run away again.
Erik skated to shore. He took off his skates and started walking through
the woods toward home. A Swedish law says that everyone who cuts down a
tree must plant a new one; so the Swedish forests are thick and
beautiful.
Little, lighted candles glowed in the windows of Erik's cottage, which
was painted red and had white window frames. Vacation time was a good
time, he thought, as he stamped into the cozy kitchen, where a big fire
crackled.
His brother Nils sat at a rough, wooden table. Nils's arms were crossed
in front of him, and his head rested upon them. How could he study with
his head so low? Surely he was not asleep--not big Nils! Why, he was
always far too busy studying his farm books or working on the estate to
fall asleep in the daytime. What was the matter?
Erik stood in the center of the room with his legs apart and his snow
cap pushed back upon his fair, curly hair.
"Ho, Nils!" he shouted.
The older brother did not stir. Erik went over and tapped him on the
shoulder.
"I say, what's wrong?"
The young man raised his head. He had a strong, brave face, but just now
there was a shadow over it.
"Have you heard the news?" he asked.
The little boy shook his head.
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