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193

(1929) [MARC] Author: Martin Andersen Nexø Translator: Jacob Wittmer Hartmann
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A MORNING’S JOURNEY 193
their backs forward. The women got on the men’s
backs, took hold of their necks, and were thus borne
to the other side. The scattered houses were suc-
ceeded by close-built villages and the hills that limit
the Vega on one side became more distinct. Donkey-
paths could be distinguished, winding like white bands
over their slopes. On one of them a black streak was
crawling upward—possibly a caravan.
A man was walking in the fields, engaged in shoot-
ing song-birds on their way to the north. I shouted
to him: “God greet you, my friend!’’, and he came
toward me, taking a crumpled pocket-handkerchief
from the pocket of his trousers and disentangling it.
In it was a little half-stifled song-bird which he had
captured in his noose. In fact, the string was still
around the bird’s legs. Did I want to buy it? I paid
him ten cents, cut the string, and cast the bird far up
into the air. The bird flew away as it burst into song.
“What are you doing that for?” I was asked.
“Perhaps he will fly to my home and sing to the
people there!” was my answer.
“Well, well!” he answered laughing, “he is not a
canary.” And he made an attempt to catch the bird
again. Perhaps he would be able to make another
sale when I returned home by the same path.
A row of pollard willows, with hundreds of crows
bickering and racketing in their branches, indicated
the point where the river emerged from its subter-
ranean course. With its bed more than half a mile
wide, along one side of which the current had bitten a
deeper course, this river created a desert in the midst
of the flowering Vega.
All objects that are in the way in the city are simply

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