e all distant, and his thirst increased every moment. Another hour
passed, and he again looked down to the flask at his side; it was half
empty, but there was much more than three drops in it. He stopped to
open it, and again, as he did so, something moved in the path above
him. It was a fair child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its
breast heaving with thirst, its eyes closed, and its lips parched and
burning. Hans eyed it deliberately, drank, and passed on. And a dark
gray cloud came over the sun, and long, snakelike shadows crept up
along the mountain sides. Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but
its descent seemed to bring no coolness; the leaden height of the dead
air pressed upon his brow and heart, but the goal was near. He saw the
cataract of the Golden River springing from the hillside scarcely five
hundred feet above him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and sprang
on to complete his task.

At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned, and saw a
gray-haired old man extended on the rocks. His eyes were sunk, his
features deadly pale and gathered into an expression of despair.
"Water!" he stretched his arms to Hans, and cried feebly, "Water! I am
dying."

"I have none," replied Hans; "thou hast had thy share of life." He
strode over the prostrate body and darted on. And a flash of blue
lightning rose out of the East, shaped like a sword; it shook thrice
over the whole heaven and left it dark with one heavy, impenetrable
shade. The sun was setting; it plunged towards the horizon like a
redhot ball. The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans's ear. He stood
at the brink of the chasm through which it ran. Its waves were filled
with the red glory of the sunset; they shook their crests like tongues
of fire, and flashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their
sound came mightier and mightier on his senses; his brain grew giddy
with the prolonged thunder. Shuddering he drew the flask from his
girdle and hurled it into the center of the torrent. As he did so, an
icy chill shot through his limbs; he staggered, shrieked, and fell.
The waters closed over his cry, and the moaning of the river rose
wildly into the night as it gushed over

THE BLACK STONE

CHAPTER IV

HOW MR. SCHWARTZ SET OFF ON AN EXPEDITION TO THE GOLDEN RIVER, AND HOW
HE PROSPERED THEREIN

Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously, alone in the house, for Hans's
return. Finding he did not com