“You speak well,” said the dwarf; “stay where you are and enjoy the soft breezes from the sea. Whisper your light songs to the birds, and let them nest among your branches. I will look elsewhere for boat timber.”
He shouldered his golden axe and trudged onward, deeper and deeper into the forest. In a secluded valley between two mountains, he found a pine tree, green and slender and beautiful. [[117]]He struck it lightly with his sharp axe-blade, and every needle on its branches shrieked as though in sudden terror.
“Why so rough, good Sampsa?” asked the tree, bowing its head and bending before the little master.
“Friend pine tree,” he answered, “how will your trunk do for boat timber? The prince of minstrels, Wainamoinen, has sent me to find some for the magic vessel he is building.”
“My trunk is not fit for such use,” said the pine tree, speaking loudly. “My wood is knotty, gnarly, scraggy, hard to fashion in any manner. It is brittle, unsmooth, easily split and broken. It would make but a poor boat.”
“It would make good beams and a fine mast,” said Sampsa.
“But very unlucky, very unlucky,” answered the pine. “Three times this summer a crow has sat on one of my branches, croaking misfortune and foretelling disaster.”
“Then fare you well, my evergreen friend,” said the dwarf, kindly; “I will look elsewhere for my boat timber;” and again he shouldered his axe and resumed his walk through the forest. [[118]]
It was noon and the sun shone hot on land and sea when he came to a giant oak tree on the summit of a green hill. This oak tree had long been the monarch of the woods. Its branches reached out on every side nine fathoms from the trunk, and its topmost twigs seemed to brush the sky.
“Good-morning, friendly oak tree!” said Sampsa; and a tremor of joy ran through every leaf and branch as the noble tree answered, “Good-morning, master!”