Noon found the goats encamped under the shade of some tall pine-trees, and Stephan Reindel was busily arranging a bunch of bright red cranberries at the side of his hat, when a shot arrested his attention.  He jumped up, and with boyish curiosity explored the pine wood; but fearing to go too far on account of his flock, he was returning, when a second shot followed by a sharp cry, convinced him it was some hunter who had driven his game much lower down than was at all usual.  The second report had sounded so near that he continued his fruitless search till it was time to go home, when, as usual, he drove his flock back by five o’clock.

Directly they entered the village, each goat trotted off to its own abode, and Stephan to his, where, after eating his supper of black bread and cheese, he sat listlessly watching his mother varnish violins, by which she earned a trifle every week.  This was due to the kindness of the chief manufacturer in the village, who, since her husband’s death, had supplied her regularly with some of the light work usually performed by women, and to which she was well accustomed, having frequently assisted her husband, who had been one of Herr Dahn’s best workmen, and whose death had left her entirely dependent on her own exertions for the support of herself and child; for the last two years, however, Stephan had bravely earned his mite by taking daily care of the goats belonging to the whole valley.  He was now discussing with his mother the possibility of his ever being able to maintain them both by following his father’s trade of making guitars and violins, when a loud knock put the future to flight, and caused Stephan to open the door so suddenly that a very excited old woman came tumbling into the room.

“Oh!  Bridgetta, how could you lean against the door?” said Frau Reindel, hastening to her assistance.  “I hope you are not hurt, and do pray remember, in future, that our door opens inside, and that you must step down into the room.  Sit down, neighbor,” she added, placing a stool for the old woman, who was, however, far too angry to notice it; but turning toward Stephan, whom she unfortunately caught smiling, she pointed to her large fur cap, that had rolled some distance across the floor, saying:  “Pick it up, boy, and don’t stand grinning like that, especially as you must know why I have come here so late in the evening.”  Then snatching it from him, without heeding his apologies, she added:  “Yes, indeed, you have more cause to cry than laugh.  A pretty herd-boy you are, to come home without people’s goats! sitting here as contentedly as if you had done your day’s duty!  You had better be more careful or you will certainly lose your work, if I have a voice in the village!”