repeated--"was sorely disturbed and distressed to see these poor
dead souls in the snow winter after winter, and seeing the
blanched bones lie on the bare earth, unburied, when summer melted
the snow. It made him unhappy, very unhappy; and what could he do,
he a little boy keeping sheep? He had as his wages two florins a
year; that was all; but his heart rose high, and he had faith in
God. Little as he was, he said to himself, he would try and do
something, so that year after year those poor lost travelers and
beasts should not perish so. He said nothing to anybody, but he
took the few florins he had saved up, bade his master farewell,
and went on his way begging--a little fourteenth-century boy, with
long, straight hair, and a girdled tunic, as you see them,"
continued the priest, "in the miniatures in the black-letter
missal that lies upon my desk. No doubt heaven favored him very
strongly, and the saints watched over him; still, without the
boldness of his own courage and the faith in his own heart, they
would not have done so. I suppose, too, that when knights in their
armor, and soldiers in their camps, saw such a little fellow all
alone, they helped him, and perhaps struck some blows for him, and
so sped him on his way, and protected him from robbers and from
wild beasts. Still, be sure that the real shield and the real
reward that served Findelkind of Arlberg was the pure and noble
purpose that armed him night and day. Now, history does not tell
us where Findelkind went, nor how he fared, nor how long he was
about it; but history does tell us that the little barefooted,
long-haired boy, knocking so loudly at castle gates and city walls
in the name of Christ and Christ's poor brethren, did so well
succeed in his quest that before long he had returned to his
mountain home with means to have a church and a rude dwelling
built, where he lived with six other brave and charitable souls,