more gaily than ever! It was the pride of Kirl's heart to count
the goats up in a business-like manner, and call them by name, and shout
"thou" to them, as if he were quite hard-hearted, instead of loving them
with all his might.

There was one goat in particular that was the pride of Kirl's heart; she
was not more than a kid, and snowy white, with a beautiful little head
and a bright eye, a credit to any man's herd. How little Kirl loved
her! He called her Liesl, as if she had been his sister. The path led
upwards first through the pine-woods, with moss a foot deep on either
side, where the wood was damp with the dividing arms of the stream, and
the moss on the trees hung in solemn grey clusters, like banners
swinging from the branches. And then the path grew steeper and runnels
of water dripped down the rocks, all covered with ferns and saxifrage.
Down below on one side lay the rushing stream and the valley where the
village was, and up above on the other side rose the great mountains,
dark with pine-woods about their feet and glittering with snow upon
their heads.

Little Kirl loved the mountains. He had been born under their shadow,
and perhaps it was this that made him wander up them as far as he dared
go, for they seemed to draw him to them. Some day--it was such a
tremendous thought that little Kirl kept it quite to himself, deep down
in his mind--but some day, when he had got beyond even herding the
goats, he meant to become a guide.

The way up the mountain hitherto for little Kirl ended in the grassy
pasture where the goats stayed. Here was a pleasant slope thick with
globe-flowers and narcissus at the lower end, and fragrant with wild
thyme at the upper ridge, where the precipice began.

And now this is the story of little Kirl and the goats. For it was at
this place one hot day in July, when little Kirl sat clasping his knees
and looking up at the mountain-tops, that he was suddenly wakened from
his dream by seeing Liesl perched on the extreme edge of the precipice.
It was a spot to which the goats were not allowed to go, for,
sure-footed though they were, it was crumbling and unsafe. And there
stood Liesl, the flower of the flock, her pretty snowy figure against
the dark-blue sky. Even as little Kirl leaped up and called her, she
threw up her graceful head as if in pride.

And then there came the most dreadful thing that had ever happened in
little Kirl's life. Exactly how it was he could n