At last the Black Brothers became so bad that the Spirit of the West Wind took vengeance on them; he forbade any of the gentle winds, south and west, to bring rain to the valley.  Then, since there were no rivers in it, it dried up, and instead of a treasure valley it became a desert of dry, red sand.  The Black Brothers could get nothing out of it, and they wandered out into the world on the other side of the mountain-peaks; and little Gluck went with them.

Hans and Schwartz went out every day, wasting their time in wickedness, but they left Gluck in the house to work.  And they lived on the gold and silver they had saved in Treasure Valley, till at last it was all gone.  The only precious thing left was Gluck’s gold mug.  This the Black Brothers decided to melt into spoons, to sell; and in spite of Gluck’s tears, they put it in the melting pot, and went out, leaving him to watch it.

Poor little Gluck sat at the window, trying not to cry for his dear golden mug, and as the sun began to go down, he saw the beautiful cataract of the Golden River turn red, and yellow, and then pure gold.

“Oh, dear!” he said to himself, “how fine it would be if the river were really golden!  I needn’t be poor, then.”

“It wouldn’t be fine at all!” said a thin, metallic little voice, in his ear.

“Mercy, what’s that!” said Gluck, looking all about.  But nobody was there.

Suddenly the sharp little voice came again.

“Pour me out,” it said, “I am too hot!”

It seemed to come right from the oven, and as Gluck stood, staring in fright, it came again, “Pour me out; I’m too hot!”

Gluck was very much frightened, but he went and looked in the melting pot.  When he touched it, the little voice said, “Pour me out, I say!” And Gluck took the handle and began to pour the gold out.

First came out a tiny pair of yellow legs; then a pair of yellow coat-tails; then a strange little yellow body, and, last, a wee yellow face, with long curls of gold hair.  And the whole put itself together as it fell, and stood up on the floor,—­the strangest little yellow dwarf, about a foot high!

“Dear, me!” said Gluck.

But the little yellow man said, “Gluck, do you know who I am?  I am the King of the Golden River.”

Gluck did not know what to say, so he said nothing; and, indeed, the little man gave him no chance.  He said, “Gluck, I have been watching you, and what I have seen of you, I like.  Listen, and I will tell you something for your good.  Whoever shall climb to the top of the mountain from which the Golden River falls, and shall cast into its waters three drops of holy water, for him and him only shall its waters turn to gold.  But no one can succeed except at the first trial, and anyone who casts unholy water in the river will be turned into a black stone.”

And then, before Gluck could draw his breath, the King walked straight into the hottest flame of the fire, and vanished up the chimney!