, be
destroyed on the water? And whenever Dutch Michel fells a pine in the
Black Forest on a stormy night, one of his timbers springs from a
ship's side, the water rushes in, and the ship is lost with all her
crew. Such is the legend of Dutch Michel; and it is sure that all that
is bad in the Black Forest may be ascribed to him. But oh, he can make
one rich!" added the old man mysteriously; "yet I wouldn't have any
thing to do with him--I would not for any money stand in the shoes of
the Stout Ezekiel or in those of the Slim Schlurker; and the King of
the Ball is reported to belong to him also."

During the recital of the old man's story, the storm had ceased. The
girls now timidly lighted their lamps and went off to bed; while the
man gave Peter a bag of leaves for a pillow on the settee, and wished
him goodnight.

Never before did Charcoal Pete have such dreams as on this night. Now
the sullen giant, Dutch Michel, would raise the window and hold out
before him with his enormously long arm a purse full of gold pieces,
which he chincked together; then he would see the good-natured Little
Glass-Man riding about the room on a monstrous green bottle, and he
could hear his merry laugh just as it sounded in the Tannenbuehl; then
again there was hummed into his left ear:

"In Holland there is gold;
You can have it if you will
For very little pay;
Gold, Gold!"

then in his right ear he heard the song of the "Schatzhauser im gruenen
Tannenwald," and a soft voice whispered: "Stupid Charcoal Pete! stupid
Peter Munk can't think of any thing to rhyme with _stehen_, and yet was
born on Sunday at twelve o'clock. Rhyme, stupid Peter, rhyme!"

He sighed and groaned in his sleep. He tried his best to think of a
rhyme for that word; but as he had never made a rhyme in his life, all
his efforts in his dream were fruitless. But on awaking with the early
dawn, his dream recurred to his mind. He sat himself down behind the
table with folded arms, and thought over the whispers he could still
hear. "Rhyme, stupid Charcoal Pete, rhyme," said he to himself,
meanwhile tapping his forehead with his finger; but the rhyme would not
come forth at his bidding.

While he was sitting thus, looking sadly before him with his mind
intent on a rhyme for _stehen_, three fellows passed by the house, one
of whom was singing:

"Am Berge that ich stehen
Und schaute in das Thal,