Now, when Karen spoke in such a tone of admiration, Erik felt that he must find out at once about that queer instrument which made such loud music; and before Gerda knew what he was doing, he had jumped up from the ground and walked to the stand where the musicians were playing.

"Let me try it," he said, and held out his hand for the trombone.

Gerda was in an agony of distress. "Run and get him, Birger," she urged.

"Oh, run quick!"

"Erik, Erik, come here!" cried Birger, running after his friend. But before Birger's voice reached his ears, the trombonist had said very plainly and harshly, "Get away from here, you dirty Lapp!" and poor Erik was looking at him with shame and anger in his eyes, when Birger took hold of his clenched hand and led him away from the bandstand.

It was a hard moment for the twins. People were looking at them and laughing, and the words, "Lapp! Lapp!" spoken in a tone of ridicule, could be heard on every side.

"Let us go home," suggested Gerda, her face scarlet with shame at so much unpleasant attention.

"No," said Birger stoutly, "let us stay right here and show that we don't care."

But Karen all at once felt very tired, and when she told Gerda about it, the little party went sadly through the crowd and took their places in silence on the return steamer.

Neither Birger nor Gerda had any heart to tell their friends the names of the different buildings which they saw from the deck of the boat, although Gerda said once, with a brave little effort to make Erik forget his shame, "We will go home through Erik-gatan."

But Erik looked at her with troubled eyes and made no answer. Not until they were safely within the walls of home did he speak, and then it was to ask, "Why did he call me a dirty Lapp?"

"Because many Lapps _are_ dirty," replied Birger, feeling just as miserable as Erik looked. "They don't bathe, nor eat from dishes, nor sleep in beds, as good Swedish people do."

"I shall bathe, and eat from dishes, and sleep in beds all the rest of my life," said Erik, his face very white, his eyes very angry. "And I shall learn to use that strange tool that makes loud music," he added.

Lieutenant Ekman stood in the doorway, listening to his words. "Good," he said heartily; "that is the way for you to talk. And you shall learn to use many other tools, too. I have made arrangements to-day for you to work in the ironworks at Goteborg, where they make steamers, engines and boilers. I have a friend there who will look after you, and see that you are taught a good trade."

"But, Father," cried Birger, "Goteborg is a long way from Stockholm! How can Erik go so far alone?"

"I am going over to Goteborg myself next month," replied Inspector Ekman, "and he can go with me. A new lightship is ready to be launched, and I shall have to inspect it and give the certificate before it is accepted by the government."

"Let us go with you! Let us go, too!" begged the twins, dancing round and round their father.

"But what will become of Karen?" he asked.

Gerda and Birger stopped short and looked at their new friend. It was plain to be seen that she was not strong enough to take such a trip.

Fru Ekman put her arm tenderly around the little lame girl. "Karen will visit me," she said kindly.

So it was decided that the twins should go to Goteborg with their father by way of the Gota Ca.n.a.l. When the day for the journey arrived, the satchels were packed once more, and Gerda showed Karen how to water her plants and feed her pet parrot in her absence.

CHAPTER XI

THROUGH THE LOCKS

"What do you think of a girl who goes off on two journeys in one summer?"

and Gerda leaned over the railing of the ca.n.a.l-boat to look at her friends on the quay below.

It was the middle of August, and the same group of boys and girls who had seen the twins off to the North in June were now speeding them to the West.

"I think you don't care for Stockholm any longer," called Hilma; while Oscar added, "And you can't care for your friends either, or you wouldn't be leaving them again so soon."

"I shall be home in just seven days," said Gerda, "and if you will all be here on the quay to welcome me, I will tell you the whole story of the wonderful Gota Ca.n.a.l, and our sight-seeing in Goteborg."

"Your friends will have to meet you at the railroad station," her father told her. "We shall come back by train. It is much the quickest way."

"At the railroad station then, one week from to-day," called Gerda, as the steamer backed away from the quay, and swung slowly out into the Malar Lake.

"Gerda and Birger are the luckiest twins I know," exclaimed Olaf, taking off his cap and swinging it around his head, as he caught sight of Gerda's fluttering handkerchief.

"That boy Erik seems to be very fond of Birger," said Oscar. "And now that the little girl from the lighthouse is going to live with the Ekmans this winter, I suppose the twins will forget all the rest of us."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Sigrid loyally. "They will never forget their friends. Besides, I like Karen myself. Let's go and see her now. She must be lonely without Gerda."

In the meantime the little party of four--Lieutenant Ekman, with Erik and the twins--were sailing across the eastern end of Lake Malar toward the Sodertelje Ca.n.a.l.

Birger and Gerda explored the boat, making friends with some of the pa.s.sengers, and then found seats with Erik on the forward deck, where they could see the wooded sh.o.r.e of the lake. They pa.s.sed many an island with its pretty villas peeping out among the green trees, and saw gay pleasure parties sailing or rowing on the quiet water.

In a short time the boat sailed slowly into the peaceful waters of the Sodertelje Ca.n.a.l. This is the first of the short ca.n.a.ls which form links between the lakes and rivers of Southern Sweden, thus making a shorter waterway from Stockholm to Goteborg; and while the trip is about three hundred and seventy miles long, only fifty miles is actual ca.n.a.l, more than four-fifths of the distance being covered by lakes and rivers, with a fifty-mile sail on the Baltic Sea.

The princ.i.p.al difficulty in making this waterway across Sweden lay in the fact that the highest of the lakes is about three hundred feet above the sea level, and the boats have to climb up to it from the Baltic Sea, and then climb down to Goteborg. This climbing is accomplished by means of locks in the ca.n.a.ls between the different lakes. In some ca.n.a.ls there is only one lock, but in others there are several together, like a flight of stairs. There are seventy-six locks in all.

The boat sails into a lock and great gates are closed behind it. Then water pours in and lifts the boat slowly higher and higher until it is on a level with the water in the lock above. The gates in front of the boat are opened, it sails slowly into the next lock, the gates close behind it; and that lock in turn is filled to the level of the one above.

The boat now wound along between the high green banks of the Sodertelje Ca.n.a.l until it entered the first of the locks. Birger and Erik ran to the rail to watch the opening and closing of the gates, and the lowering of the boat to the level of the Baltic Sea; but Gerda preferred to talk with some old women who came on board with baskets full of kringlor,--ring-twisted cakes.

The cakes looked so good, and everyone who bought them seemed to find them so delicious, that at last she ran to ask her father for some money; and when the boat had pa.s.sed the lock and was once more on its way, she presented a bagful of cakes to Birger and Erik.

"The Vikings had no such easy way as this of getting from Lake Malar out into the Baltic Sea," said Lieutenant Ekman, coming up to find the children, and helping himself generously to the kringlor.

Gerda looked at the gnarled and st.u.r.dy oaks that lined the banks of the ca.n.a.l like watchful sentinels. "The Vikings must have loved the lakes and bays of the Northland," she said. "Perhaps they begged All-father Odin to let their spirits come back and make their homes in these trees."

"No doubt they did," replied her father, gravely enough. "I suppose when the trees wave their arms and shake themselves so violently they are saying to each other something like this: 'See how these good-for-nothing children go in good-for-nothing boats over this good-for-nothing ditch.'"

"With their good-for-something father," cried Gerda, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a loving kiss.

"Am I really good for something?" he asked, as soon as he could speak. "Well then, you must be good for something, too. In olden times the Vikings sailed the seas and brought home many a treasure from foreign sh.o.r.es. See that you take home some treasures from your journey,--something that will remind you of the towns we visit and the sights we see," and he put his hand into his pocket and took out three coins.

"The Vikings had a fashion of taking what they wanted without paying for it," suggested Birger.

"You'd better not try it now, my son," replied Herr Ekman; and he gave each one of the children a krona.

"Here's a kringla to remind me of Sodertelje," said Gerda, slipping one of the cakes into her pocket; and then the three children went off to the forward deck to watch the boat sail out into the ocean.

For fifty miles they sailed among wooded islands and rocky ledges, and then entered the ca.n.a.l which connects the Baltic Sea with Lake Roxen. On the way the boat stopped at two or three ports, and each tune the children went ash.o.r.e to buy a souvenir.