Then the wild geese began to look around in the cave.  Enough daylight came in through the opening, so that they could see the grotto was both deep and wide.  They were delighted to think they had found such a fine night harbour, when one of them caught sight of some shining, green dots, which glittered in a dark corner.  “These are eyes!” cried Akka.  “There are big animals in here.”  They rushed toward the opening, but Thumbietot called to them:  “There is nothing to run away from!  It’s only a few sheep who are lying alongside the grotto wall.”

When the wild geese had accustomed themselves to the dim daylight in the grotto, they saw the sheep very distinctly.  The grown-up ones might be about as many as there were geese; but beside these there were a few little lambs.  An old ram with long, twisted horns appeared to be the most lordly one of the flock.  The wild geese went up to him with much bowing and scraping.  “Well met in the wilderness!” they greeted, but the big ram lay still, and did not speak a word of welcome.

Then the wild geese thought that the sheep were displeased because they had taken shelter in their grotto.  “It is perhaps not permissible that we have come in here?” said Akka.  “But we cannot help it, for we are wind-driven.  We have wandered about in the storm all day, and it would be very good to be allowed to stop here to-night.”  After that a long time passed before any of the sheep answered with words; but, on the other hand, it could be heard distinctly that a pair of them heaved deep sighs.  Akka knew, to be sure, that sheep are always shy and peculiar; but these seemed to have no idea of how they should conduct themselves.  Finally an old ewe, who had a long and pathetic face and a doleful voice, said:  “There isn’t one among us that refuses to let you stay; but this is a house of mourning, and we cannot receive guests as we did in former days.”  “You needn’t worry about anything of that sort,” said Akka.  “If you knew what we have endured this day, you would surely understand that we are satisfied if we only get a safe spot to sleep on.”

When Akka said this, the old ewe raised herself.  “I believe that it would be better for you to fly about in the worst storm than to stop here.  But, at least, you shall not go from here before we have had the privilege of offering you the best hospitality which the house affords.”

She conducted them to a hollow in the ground, which was filled with water.  Beside it lay a pile of bait and husks and chaff; and she bade them make the most of these.  “We have had a severe snow-winter this year, on the island,” she said.  “The peasants who own us came out to us with hay and oaten straw, so we shouldn’t starve to death.  And this trash is all there is left of the good cheer.”