He had just climbed over the wall again when he heard a stone crash down close beside him.  As he turned to see what it was, he thought that he could distinguish something that moved on a stone pile which lay close to the wall.  He stole nearer, and saw the goosey-gander come trudging wearily over the stone pile, with several long fibres in his mouth.  The goosey-gander didn’t see the boy, and the boy did not call to him, but thought it advisable to find out first why the goosey-gander time and again disappeared in this manner.

And he soon learned the reason for it.  Up in the stone pile lay a young gray goose, who cried with joy when the goosey-gander came.  The boy crept near, so that he heard what they said; then he found out that the gray goose had been wounded in one wing, so that she could not fly, and that her flock had travelled away from her, and left her alone.  She had been near death’s door with hunger, when the white goosey-gander had heard her call, the other day, and had sought her out.  Ever since, he had been carrying food to her.  They had both hoped that she would be well before they left the island, but, as yet, she could neither fly nor walk.  She was very much worried over this, but he comforted her with the thought that he shouldn’t travel for a long time.  At last he bade her good-night, and promised to come the next day.

The boy let the goosey-gander go; and as soon as he was gone, he stole, in turn, up to the stone heap.  He was angry because he had been deceived, and now he wanted to say to that gray goose that the goosey-gander was his property.  He was going to take the boy up to Lapland, and there would be no talk of his staying here on her account.  But now, when he saw the young gray goose close to, he understood, not only why the goosey-gander had gone and carried food to her for two days, but also why he had not wished to mention that he had helped her.  She had the prettiest little head; her feather-dress was like soft satin, and the eyes were mild and pleading.

When she saw the boy, she wanted to run away; but the left wing was out of joint and dragged on the ground, so that it interfered with her movements.

“You mustn’t be afraid of me,” said the boy, and didn’t look nearly so angry as he had intended to appear.  “I’m Thumbietot, Morten Goosey-gander’s comrade,” he continued.  Then he stood there, and didn’t know what he wanted to say.

Occasionally one finds something among animals which makes one wonder what sort of creatures they really are.  One is almost afraid that they may be transformed human beings.  It was something like this with the gray goose.  As soon as Thumbietot said who he was, she lowered her neck and head very charmingly before him, and said in a voice that was so pretty that he couldn’t believe it was a goose who spoke:  “I am very glad that you have come here to help me.  The white goosey-gander has told me that no one is as wise and as good as you.”