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,