snow, the
mountain meadows were one smooth sheet of white. The rocks were
invisible and the lakes lay buried. The mountains round about had lost
their gloomy shade, and now seemed to surround the valley with walls of
alabaster, and when the sun shone, the whole white world was radiant.
Where the road, which looked like a single furrow in a white field,
separated, running northward and southward, stood the hospice. The gray
walls were plastered with snow, and the buildings looked like an island
that is about to be submerged in some great flood. From without, the
few houses on the lonely mountain had a defenseless look. But inside
they were snug and warm, and there was need of warmth and comfort; for
the winter storms came rushing over the snow fields, and the thick,
cold clouds came, bringing night at noonday. Then the travel over the
mountain road would cease, for days or weeks, or if some foolhardy man,
or a daring troop came up from the valley, they would cross themselves,
if they got as far as the hospice, and would gasp out: "That was
tempting Providence: that road meant life or death."

The two men from Waltheim passed this first winter as contentedly as
the autumn, and the same contentment lasted into the spring, when the
avalanches came crashing down the mountain sides. When the danger of
snowslides was somewhat less, some travelers began to come through the
pass, and one of the first who came was Hallheimer, the trader. Two
things were especially noticeable in him, on his arrival, first that
his illness had gone hard with him, for he was still thinner and his
straggling beard looked still more scanty: second, that he had felt
very curious to make this mountain trip once more. He greeted the smith
first, for he had taken his wagon at once to the stables, and wanted to
know how Stephen liked the place, and gave him news about the smithy at
Waltheim, for which he had a purchaser in view. Fausch stood by his
workbench and let the words pass by him, muttered an answer now and
then and let the trader see that he did not regret the change. Then the
trader wanted to go over to the tavern. Simmen, with whom he was a
profitable and quite a favorite guest, because he always brought news,
greeted him with "Hullo," and Hallheimer soon had the conversation
precisely where he wanted it. "How goes it with the smith?" he asked.

"He's an odd stick," said Simmen. "But he can work!"

Hallheimer grew so eager that his little eyes