It grew very steep now, and the air weighed like lead on Hans's forehead,
but the Golden River was very near. Hans stopped a moment to breathe, then
started to climb the last height.

As he clambered on, he saw an old, old man lying 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