They landed, came ashore, and—­look there! the rich merchant’s wife is hastening to meet him, and along with her their young daughter, a lovely girl, prettier than you could think or even dream of.

The family met; they greeted one another and went to the palace.  And along with them went their new workman.  They sat around the oak table and ate and drank and were cheerful.

“One day does not count,” the rich merchant said; “let us have a good time and leave work for to-morrow.”

The young workman was a fine, brave fellow, handsome and stately, and the merchant’s lovely daughter liked him well.

She left the room and made him a sign to follow her.  Then she gave him a touchstone and a flint.

“Take it,” she said; “when thou art in need, it will be useful.”

The next day the very rich merchant with his hired workman went to the high golden mountain.  The young fellow saw at once that there was no use trying to climb or even to crawl up.

“Well,” said the merchant, “let us have a drink for courage.”

And he gave the fellow some drowsy drink.  The fellow drank and fell asleep.

The rich merchant took out a sharp knife, killed a wretched horse, cut it open, put the fellow inside, pushed in the shovel, and sewed the horse’s skin together, and himself sat down in the bushes.

All at once crows came flying, black crows with iron beaks.  They took hold of the carcass, lifted it up to the top of the high mountain, and began to pick at it.

The crows soon ate up the horse and were about to begin on the merchant’s son, when he awoke, pushed away the crows, looked around and asked out loud: 

“Where am I?”

The rich merchant below answered: 

“On a golden mountain; take the shovel and dig for gold.”

And the young man dug and dug, and all the gold he dug he threw down, and the rich merchant loaded it upon the carts.

“Enough!” finally shouted the master.  “Thanks for thy help.  Farewell!”

“And I—­how shall I get down?”

“As thou pleasest; there have already perished nine and ninety of such fellows as thou.  With thee the count will be rounded and thou wilt be the hundredth.”

The proud, rich merchant was off.

“What shall I do?” thought the poor merchant’s son.  “Impossible to go down!  But to stay here means death, a cruel death from hunger.”

And our fellow stood upon the mountain, while above the black crows were circling, the black crows with iron beaks, as if feeling already the prey.

The fellow tried to think how it all happened, and he remembered the lovely girl and what she said to him in giving him the touchstone and the flint.  He remembered how she said: 

“Take it.  When thou art in need it will prove useful.”

“I fancy she had something in mind; let us try.”

The poor merchant’s son took out stone and flint, struck it once and lo! two brave fellows were standing before him.