gathering in denser and denser masses. The sun was still some distance
above the horizon, but the valley was so narrow that the day star had
disappeared, before making its majestic entry into the portals of night.

When it set in a clear sky, it only gilded the border of pine trees on
the crest of the lofty western heights; to-day it was invisible, and the
occasional, quickly interrupted twittering of the birds seemed more in
harmony with the threatening clouds and sultry atmosphere than the lad's
gay laughter.

Every living creature seemed to be holding its breath in anxious
suspense, but Ulrich once more laughed joyously, then bracing his bare
knee against a bundle of faggots, cried:

"Give me that stick, Ruth, that I may tie it up. How dry the stuff is,
and how it snaps! A word! To sit over books all day long for one stupid
word--that's just nonsense!"

"But all words are not alike," replied the girl.

"Piff is paff, and paff is puff!" laughed Ulrich. "When I snap the
twigs, you always hear them say 'knack, knack,' and 'knack' is a word
too. The juggler Caspar's magpie, can say twenty."

"But father said so," replied Ruth, arranging the dry sticks. "He toils
hard, but not for gold and gain, to find the right words. You are always
wanting to know what he is looking for in his big books, so I plucked up
courage to ask him, and now I know. I suppose he saw I was astonished,
for he smiled just as he does when you have asked some foolish question
at lessons, and added that a word was no trifling thing and should not be