in the path. His eyes
were sunken, and his face deadly pale.

"Water!" he said; "water!"

"I have none for you," said Hans; "you have had your share of life." He
strode over the old man's body and climbed on.

A flash of blue lightning dazzled him for an instant, and then the heavens
were dark.

At last Hans stood on the brink of the cataract of the Golden River. The
sound of its roaring filled the air. He drew the flask from his side and
hurled it into the torrent. As he did so, an icy chill shot through him;
he shrieked and fell. And the river rose and flowed over

The Black Stone.

When Hans did not come back Gluck grieved, but Schwartz was glad. He
decided to go and get the gold for himself. He thought it might not do to
steal the holy water, as Hans had done, so he took the money little Gluck
had earned, and bought holy water of a bad priest. Then he took a basket
of bread and wine, and started off.

He came to the great hill of ice, and was as surprised as Hans had been,
and found it as hard to cross. Many times he slipped, and he was much
frightened at the noises, and was very glad to get across, although he had
lost his basket of bread and wine. Then he came to the same hill of sharp,
red stone, without grass or shade, that Hans had climbed. And like Hans he
became very thirsty. Like Hans, too, he decided to drink a little of the
water. As he raised it to his lips, he suddenly saw the same fair child
that Hans had seen.

"Water!" said the child. "Water! I am dying."

"I have not enough for myself," said Schwartz, and passed on.

A low bank of black cloud rose out of the west.

When he had climbed for another hour, the thirst overcame him again, and
again he lifted the flask to his lips. As he did so, he saw an old man who
begged for water.

"I have not enough for myself," said Schwartz, and passed on.

A mist, of the colour of blood, came over the sun.

Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and once more he had to drink.
This time, as he lifted the flask, he thought he saw his brother Hans
before him. The figure stretched its arms to him, and cried out for water.

"Ha, ha," laughed Schwartz, "do you suppose I brought the water up here
for you?" And he strode over the figure. But when he had gone a few yards
farther, he looked back, and the figure was not there.

Then he stood at the brink of the Golden River, and its waves were black,
and the roaring of the waters filled all the air. He cast