e along the stony
road--no sounds can be distinguished in the confusion. Away! help! away!

The folks are now seen flying from the village with their goods and
chattels--children in their bare shirts and with naked feet--carrying
off beds and chairs, pots and pans. Has the fire spread so fearfully, or
is this all the effect of fright?

"Where's the fire?"

"At Hans the Fiddler's."

And the driver lashed his horses, and every man seemed to press forward
with increased ardor to fly to the succor.

As they approached the spot, it was clearly impossible to save the
burning cottage; and all efforts were therefore directed to prevent the
flames extending to the adjoining houses. Just then every body was
busied in trying to save a horse and two cows from the shed; but the
animals, terrified by the fire, would not quit the spot, until their
eyes were bandaged, and they were driven out by force.

"Where's old Hans?" was the cry on all sides.

"Burnt in his bed to a certainty," said some. Others declared that he
had escaped. Nobody knew the truth.

The old fiddler had neither child nor kinsfolk, and yet all the people
grieved for him; and those who had come from the villages round about
reproached the inhabitants for not having looked after the fate of the
poor fellow. Presently it was reported that he had been seen in Urban
the smith's barn; another said that he was sitting up in the church
crying and moaning--the first time he had been there without his fiddle.
But neither in the barn nor in the church was old Hans to be found, and
again it was declared that he had been burnt to death in his house, and
that his groans had actually been heard; but, it was added, all too late
to save him, for the flames had already burst through the roof, and the
glass of the windows was sent flying across the road.

The day was just beginning to dawn when all danger of the fire spreading
was past; and leaving the smouldering ruins, the folks from a distance
set out on their return.

A strange apparition was now seen coming down the mountain-side, as if
out of the gray mists of morning. In a cart drawn by two oxen sat a
haggard figure, dressed in his bare shirt, and his shoulders wrapped in
a horse-cloth. The morning breeze played in the long white locks of the
old man, whose wan features were framed, as it were, by a short,
bristly, snow-white beard. In his hands he clutched a fiddle and
fiddlestick. It was old Hans, the village fidd