d herself upon a stone near the path, let the lambs graze,
laid the hazel stick beside her, and allowed the apron of sheepskin,
which, till now, she had held up carefully, to fall. A shower of the
loveliest Alpine flowers fell to the ground.

She began to wind a wreath.

"The blue speik will suit his brown hair the best," she said as she
worked busily. "I get much more tired when I drive the flock alone than
when he is with me. And yet then we climb much higher. I wonder how it
is! How my naked feet burn! I might go down to the brook and cool them.
And then I should see him sooner when he comes along the height. The
sun does not scorch any more."

She took off the large broad pumpkin leaf which she wore instead of a
hat; and now was seen the shining colour of her pale golden hair--so
fair it was!--which, stroked back from the temples, was tied together
at the back of the head with a red ribbon. Like a flood of sunbeams it
rippled over her neck, which was only covered by a white woollen
kirtle, that, confined at the waist with a leather girdle, reached a
little above the knees.

She measured the size of her wreath on her own head.

"Certainly," she said, "his head is larger. I will add these Alpine
roses."

Then she tied the two ends of the wreath together with delicate
grasses, sprang up, shook the remaining flowers from her lap, took the
wreath in her left hand, and turned to descend the steep declivity, at
the foot of which the brook gurgled amid the stones.

"No! stop up here and wait! Thou, too, darling White Elf! I will come
back directly."

And she drove back the lambs, which had tried to follow, and which now,
bleating, looked wistfully after their mistress.

With great agility the practised girl sprang down the ravine; now
holding fast to the tough shrubs, spurge-olives, and yellow willow; now
boldly leaping from rock to rock.

The loose stones broke and the fragments came rattling after her. As
she merrily jumped after the rolling pebbles, she suddenly heard a
sharp and threatening hiss from below.

Before she could turn, a great copper-brown snake, which had no doubt
been disturbed from sunning itself on a stone, coiled itself up, ready
to dart at her naked feet.

The child was alarmed; her knees trembled, and screaming loudly, she
called:

"Adalgoth, help! help!"

A clear voice immediately replied to this cry of fear with the words,
"Alaric! Alaric!" which sounded like a battle-cry.

The