And Koerg went forth with a heavy heart, his
faint hope dead.
His homeward path followed the raging sea. The night was dark and
stormy, the waves bellowed and lashed at the shore like an army of
infuriated beasts; but Koerg heeded it not, only clutched his bread and
pudding, and walked on with a white despairing face. Suddenly, as he
emerged from a thick bit of woods, he became conscious of a strange
light encircling him, and halting, quite terrified at the phenomenon, he
beheld a little old man, snow-haired and bearded, standing plump in the
path before him.
"You seem in trouble, friend," he ejaculated, with a chuckle. "Something
twists in your world, I trow."
Koerg was not slow to recognize a _geist_; his knees shook, and he dared
not utter a word. The elf looked down upon him half displeased, yet
chuckling merrily withal.
"You have nothing to fear from me," he continued, sweetly. "I am the
guardian of the honest poor. This night I come to reveal to you a
secret, which, rightly used, will bestow upon you riches, life-lasting
and unlimited."
Koerg, bewildered, could not yet yield simple faith. He clutched
desperately his bread and pudding. He found no joyful words.
The little man frowned scathingly on the gift of Klaus, then burst into
a scornful laugh.
[Illustration: THE WONDER-MILL GRINDS.]
"It is always thus, friend, with the money elves; they deal niggardly,
even at the full.
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