property, which he had been allowed to lead up to the mountain pastures to graze with his master's cattle. The churlish farmer, indeed, had never granted him this favour, but his unkindly eyes had closed for the last sleep the autumn before, and the eyes which now shone in the farm-house were so mild and lovely that it was a pleasure to obey their glance. What were these eyes like? Hans tried to remember as he gazed at the glacier, whose purple had changed to a pale rosy hue. Yes, yes, now he knows. The eyes of Anneli, whom he had loved from childhood as his own dear little sister, were just like the eyes of that fair maiden who used to walk in the rose-garden by the dwarf king's side, and this brought him back to the beginning of his reverie.And now he began to wonder if the little man, if he returned, would
rest at night in the farmer's hay-loft, or, according to his old
custom, climb up the mountain to seek him here. Then he heard, not far
off, something like the sigh of a weary wanderer. The youth's sharp
ear was directed attentively towards the path which led from the
village to the senner's cottage, and which was now veiled in the
double shadow of the trees and of the falling night. Yes, it was
coming from that direction, and immediately Hans was ready to offer
help. He took his lantern in his hand, seized his alpenstock, and ran
down the path between the rocks and the dew-covered bushes. He had not
far to seek, for there, on a stone by the wayside, sat a dwarf in a
dark and shabby garment, and a well-remembered wallet hung from his
bent shoulders. The young man cast a hasty glance at the figure, and
then shouted aloud with delight. It was the old man of whom he had
just been thinking, and it was with grateful emotion that he found
that his old friend had not forgotten him, but that, in spite of the
darkness and his increasing infirmities, he had toiled up the path to
the mountains.

"Good evening, sir," said he joyfully, bending as reverently to kiss
the dwarf's withered hand as if he had been a lord of the land. "You
must be tired; take my arm, and let me carry your sack; that's the
way. And now, courage for a hundred steps or so, and we are at the end
of our journey." And with such care and reverence as are shown rather
to great princes than to such a poor little dwarf, Hans led the old
man over the last difficulties of the mountain path, and over the
threshold of his hut. Then he hastened to take the covering off his
couch of moss and spread it over the wooden bench before the hearth,
that the old man might rest his tired limbs on a softer seat. Next he

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