Next to the church there is a little stone lodge, or shed, with
two arched openings, and from it you look into the tiny church,
with its crucifixes and relics, or out to great, bold, sombre
Martinswand, as you like best; and in this spot Findelkind would
sit hour after hour while his brothers and sisters were playing,
and look up at the mountains or on to the altar, and wish and
pray and vex his little soul most wofully; and his ewes and his
lambs would crop the grass about the entrance, and bleat to make
him notice them and lead them farther afield, but all in vain.
Even his dear sheep he hardly heeded, and his pet ewes, Katte and
Greta, and the big ram Zips, rubbed their soft noses in his hand
unnoticed. So the summer droned away,--the summer that is so
short in the mountains, and yet so green and so radiant, with the
torrents tumbling through the flowers, and the hay tossing in the
meadows, and the lads and lasses climbing to cut the rich, sweet
grass of the alps. The short summer passed as fast as a dragon-
fly flashes by, all green and gold, in the sun; and it was near
winter once more, and still Findelkind was always dreaming and
wondering what he could do for the good of St. Christopher; and
the longing to do it all came more and more into his little
heart, and he puzzled his brain till his head ached. One autumn
morning, whilst yet it was dark, Findelkind made his mind up, and
rose before his brothers, and stole down-stairs and out into the
air, as it was easy to do, because the house-door never was
bolted. He had nothing with him; he was barefooted, and his
school-satchel was slung behind him, as Findelkind of Arlberg's
wallet had been five centuries before.

He took a little staff from the piles of wood lying about, and
went out on to the highroad, on his way to do heaven's will. He