anyhow, till I return?" he asked.

Smart fellow! He kept the money for his goats, and tried to keep the
goats into the bargain.

"All right," said the Englishman, "I will take care of them. Never fear.
Go!"

"But you must take my stick and my horn; the goats will get astray when
they do not hear the horn."

"Then give it to me, and I will blow it," said the Englishman, with
admirable patience, and, taking the shepherd's crook and horn, he gave
the man his red shawl to use as a signal-flag.

As the shepherd at length trotted on and disappeared, that unique,
long-legged example of phlegm and good sense sat down by the shepherd's
fire, on exactly the same spot where the shepherd had sat, and began
watching the goats.

I returned to the mournful scene which I had quitted when the Englishman
came up to me. It was a terrible one, and no marvel that even the
painter had closed his sketch-book to gaze upon it in silent awe. The
entire valley below showed like a giant furnace, or some flaming ocean
of hell. Huge fiery serpents came hissing and snarling up to the
barricade, and great flakes of fire were flying about everywhere,
scorching and kindling as they fell. The chill, keen, mountain air had
become heavy and warm in spite of the winter, and a loathsome,
penetrating odour arose and drove us away from the horrible place. No
one remained but the Polish Jew. He did not move away. He had risen to