-stairs and out into the air,
as it was easy to do, because the house-door never was bolted. He had
nothing with him; he was barefooted, and his school-satchel was slung
behind him, as Findelkind of Arlberg's wallet had been five centuries
before.

He took a little staff from the piles of wood lying about, and went out
on to the highroad, on his way to do heaven's will. He was not very
sure what that divine will wished, but that was because he was only
nine years old, and not very wise; but Findelkind that was in heaven had
begged for the poor; so would he.

His parents were very poor, but he did not think of them as in any want
at any time, because he always had his bowlful of porridge and as much
bread as he wanted to eat. This morning he had nothing to eat; he wished
to be away before any one could question him.

It was quite dusk in the fresh autumn morning. The sun had not risen
behind the glaciers of the Stubaithal, and the road was scarcely seen;
but he knew it very well, and he set out bravely, saying his prayers to
Christ, and to St. Christopher, and to Findelkind that was in heaven.

He was not in any way clear as to what he would do, but he thought 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 travellers 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 post-house in the old days
when men travelled only by road. A woman was feeding chickens in the
bright clear red of the