he would find some great thing to do somewhere, lying like a jewel
in the dust; and he went on his way in faith, as Findelkind of
Arlberg had done before him.

His heart beat high, and his head lost its aching pains, and his
feet felt light; so light as if there were wings to his ankles. He
would not go to Zirl, because Zirl he knew so well, and there
could be nothing very wonderful waiting there; and he ran fast the
other way. When he was fairly out from under the shadow of
Martinswand, he slackened his pace, and saw the sun come on his
path, and the red day redden the gray-green water, and the early
Stellwagen from Landeck, that had been lumbering along all the
night, overtook him.

He would have run after it, and called out to the travelers for
alms, but he felt ashamed; his father had never let him beg, and
he did not know how to begin.

The Stellwagen rolled on through the autumn mud, and that was one
chance lost. He was sure that the first Findelkind had not felt
ashamed when he had knocked at the first castle gates.

By and by, when he could not see Martinswand by turning his head
back ever so, he came to an inn that used to be a posthouse in the
old days when men traveled only by road. A woman was feeding
chickens in the bright clear red of the cold daybreak.

Findelkind timidly held out his hand. "For the poor!" he murmured,
and doffed his cap.