Then Gluck looked at him, and when he saw that he was pale and weary, he gave him the water.

“Only pray don’t drink it all,” said Gluck.  But the old man drank a great deal, and gave him back the bottle two thirds empty.  Then he bade him good speed, and Gluck went on again merrily.  And the path became easier to his feet, and two or three blades of grass appeared upon it, and some grasshoppers began singing on the bank beside it; and Gluck thought he had never heard such merry singing.

Then he went on for another hour, and the thirst increased on him so that he thought he should be forced to drink.  But, as he raised the flask, he saw a little child lying panting by the roadside, and it cried out piteously for water.  Then Gluck struggled with himself and determined to bear the thirst a little longer; and he put the bottle to the child’s lips, and it drank it all but a few drops.  Then it smiled on him and got up, and ran down the hill; and Gluck looked after it, till it became as small as a little star, and then turned, and began climbing again.  And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers growing on the rocks, bright green moss, with pale pink starry flowers, and soft-belled gentians, more blue than the sky at its deepest, and pure white transparent lilies.  And crimson and purple butterflies darted hither and thither, and the sky sent down such pure light that Gluck had never felt so happy in his life.

Yet, when he had climbed for another hour, his thirst became intolerable again; and, when he looked at his bottle, he saw that there were only five or six drops left in it, and he could not venture to drink.  And as he was hanging the flask to his belt again, he saw a little dog lying on the rocks, gasping for breath—­just as Hans had seen it on the day of his ascent.  And Gluck stopped and looked at it, and then at the Golden River, not five hundred yards above him; and he thought of the dwarf’s words, that no one could succeed, except in his first attempt; and he tried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, and Gluck stopped again.  “Poor beastie,” said Gluck, “it’ll be dead when I come down again, if I don’t help it.”  Then he looked closer and closer at it, and its eye turned on him so mournfully that he could not stand it.  “Confound the King and his gold too,” said Gluck; and he opened the flask, and poured all the water into the dog’s mouth.

The dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs.  Its tail disappeared, its ears became long, longer, silky, golden; its nose became very red, its eyes became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog was gone, and before Gluck stood his old acquaintance, the King of the Golden River.

“Thank you,” said the monarch; “but don’t be frightened, it’s all right”; for Gluck showed manifest symptoms of consternation at this unlooked-for reply to his last observation.  “Why didn’t you come before,” continued the dwarf, “instead of sending me those rascally brothers of yours, for me to have the trouble of turning into stones?  Very hard stones they make, too.”