Part II

THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER; OR, THE

BLACK BROTHERS
John Ruskin(1819-1900)

"Hollo!" said the voice.
Gluck made no answer.
"Hollo, Gluck, my boy!" said the pot again.

Gluck called up all of his courage, walked straight up to the crucible, drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. The gold was all melted, and its surface as smooth and polished as a river; but as he looked in, he saw, meeting his glance from beneath the gold, the red nose and sharp eyes of his old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever he had seen them in his life.

"Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the pot again; "I'm all right; pour me out."

But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything. "Pour me out, I say," said the voice,
rather gruffly. Still Gluck couldn't move.

"Will you pour me out?" said the voice sharply; "I'm too hot."

By a great effort Gluck managed to make himself move, took hold of the melting-pot,
and sloped it so as to pour out the gold. But instead of a liquid stream there came out,
first, a pair of pretty little yellow legs, then some coat-tails, then a pair of arms, and,
finally, the well-known head of his friend, the mug; all which articles, joining together as
they rolled out, stood up on the floor, in the shape of a little golden dwarf about a foot
and a half high.

"That's right!" said the dwarf, stretching out first his legs, and then his arms, and then
shaking his head up and down, and as far round as it would go, for five minutes without
stopping. Gluck stood looking at him in speechless amazement. He was dressed in a
garment of spun gold. Over this his hair and beard fell full halfway to the ground in
waving curls so delicate that Gluck could hardly tell where they ended; they seemed to
melt into air. Finally the dwarf turned his small, sharp eyes full on Gluck and stared at
him for a minute or two. "No, it wouldn't, Gluck, my boy," said the little man.

This was certainly a rather strange way to begin a conversation. It might refer to what
Gluck had been thinking when he first heard the voice from the pot. But whatever it was,
Gluck had no desire to dispute what he said.

"Wouldn't it, sir?" said Gluck, very meekly indeed.

"No,' said the dwarf. "No, it wouldn't." And with that the dwarf stuck his thumbs in
his belt, and took two turns, of three feet long, up and down the room, lifting his legs up
very high and setting them down very hard. This pause gave time for Gluck to think a
little, and seeing no great reason to fear his little visitor, he decided to ask a question.

"Pray, sir," said Gluck, timidly, "were you my mug?"

On which the little man turned sharp round, walked straight up to Gluck, and drew
himself up to his full height. "I," said the little man, "am the King of the Golden River."
Then he turned about again, and took two more turns some six feet long up and down the
room. After this he again walked up to Gluck and stood still, as if expecting some reply
to his last remark.

Gluck decided that he had to say something. "I hope your Majesty is very well," said
Gluck.

"Listen!!' said the little man. "I am the King of what you call the Golden River. The
shape you saw me in was caused by the ill will of a stronger King, from whose
enchantments you have this instant freed me. What I have seen of you and your conduct
toward your wicked brothers makes me willing to serve you; therefore, attend to what I
tell you. Whoever shall climb to the top of that mountain from which you see the Golden
River springing forth, and shall cast into the stream at its source three drops of holy
water, for him, and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. But no one failing in his first
attempt can succeed in a second; and if anyone shall cast unholy water into the river, he
will become a black stone."

So saying, the King of the Golden River turned away and deliberately walked into the
center of the hottest flame of the furnace. His figure became red, white, dazzling--a blaze
of light--rose, trembled, and disappeared. The King of the Golden River had evaporated.

"Oh!" cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chimney after him; "oh, dear, dear,
dear me! My mug! my mug! my mug! '

CHAPTER THREE

HOW HANS AND SCHWARTZ
JOURNEYED TO THE GOLDEN RIVER

The King of the Golden River had hardly disappeared. before Hans and Schwartz came roaring into the house very drunk. The discovery of the total loss of their last piece of gold made them just sober enough to be able to stand over Gluck, beating him very steadily for a quarter of an hour. Then they dropped into a couple of chairs and requested to know what he had got to say for himself. Gluck told them his story, of which, of course, they did not believe a word. They beat him again till their arms were tired, and staggered to bed. In the morning, however, the steadiness with which he stuck to his story made them believe him, and immediately the two brothers began to quarrel as to which of them should be the first to make the journey to the Golden River. Soon they drew their swords and began fighting.

The noise of the fray alarmed the neighbors, who sent for the constable. On hearing this, Hans made his escape and hid himself; but Schwartz was taken before the judge, fined for breaking the peace, and was thrown into prison, till he should pay., When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, and decided to set out immediately for the Golden River. How to get the holy. water was the question. He went to the priest, but the priest could not give any holy water to such a man. So Hans went to vespers in the evening for the first time in his life, and pretending to cross himself, stole a cupful.

Next morning he got up before the sun rose, put the holy water into a strong flask, and two bottles of wine and some bread in a basket. These he slung over his back, and taking his staff in his hand, set off for the mountains. On his way out of the town he had to pass the prison, and as he looked in at the windows, whom should he see but his brother Schwartz peeping out through the bars and looking very down-hearted.

"Good morning, brother," said Hans. "Have you any message for the King of the Golden River?"

Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage and shook the bars with all his strength; but Hans only laughed at him, and advising him to make himself comfortable till he came back again, shouldered his basket, shook the bottle of holy water in Schwartz's face, and marched off in great glee.

It was indeed a morning that might have made anyone happy, even with no Golden River to seek for. But on this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes and thoughts were fixed. Forgetting the distance he had to travel, he set off at a rate of walking which greatly exhausted him before he had climbed the first range of the green and low hills. He was surprised on reaching their summit to find that a large glacier lay between him and the source of the Golden River. He mounted it, though, with the boldness of a trained
mountaineer; yet he thought he had never in his life climbed so strange or so dangerous a
glacier.

The ice was very slippery, and out of all its chasms came wild sounds of gushing water, changeful and loud, now rising into wild melody, then breaking off into short, sorrowful tones, sudden shrieks, like those of human voices in distress or pain. The ice was. broken into thousands of shapes, but none, Hans thought, like the ordinary forms of splintered ice. Lurid lights played and floated about, dazzling and confusing the sight of the traveler, while his ears grew dull and his head dizzy with the constant gush and roar of the hidden waters. The ice crashed and yawned into fresh chasms at his feet; tottering spires nodded around him, and fell thundering across his path. Though he had repeatedly faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers and in the wildest weather, it was with a new feeling of terror that he leaped the last chasm and flung himself, exhausted and shuddering, on the firm turf of the mountain.

He had been compelled to cast aside his basket of food, which became too great a burden on the glacier, and had no means of refreshing himself but by breaking off and eating some of the pieces of ice. This, however, relieved his thirst, an hour's rest renewed his strength, and he resumed his laborious journey.

His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare, red rocks, without a blade of grass to ease the foot, or a cliff to give an inch of shade from the south sun. It was past noon, and the sun's rays beat fiercely upon the steep path. Burning thirst was soon added to the bodily fatigue from which Hans was now suffering; glance after glance he cast at the flask of water which hung at his belt. "Three drops are enough," at last thought he; "I may at least cool my lips with it."

He opened the flask and was raising it to his lips, when his eye fell on an object lying on the rock beside him; he thought it moved. It was a small dog, apparently in the last agony of death from thirst. Its tongue was out, its jaws dry, its limbs extended lifelessly, and a swarm of black ants were crawling about its lips and throat. Its eyes moved to the bottle which Hans held in his hand. He raised it, drank, kicked the animal with his foot, and passed on. And he did not know how it was, but he thought that a strange shadow had
suddenly come across the blue sky.

The path became steeper and more rugged every moment, and the high, hill air, instead of refreshing him, seemed to throw his blood into a fever. His thirst increased every moment. Another hour passed, and he again looked down to the flask at his side. It was half empty, but there was much more than three drops in it. He stopped to open it, and again, as he did so, something moved in the path above him. It was a fair child, stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its eyes closed, and its lips parched and burning. Hans looked at it for a moment, drank, and passed on. And a dark gray cloud came over the sun, and long, snake-like shadows crept up along the mountain-sides. Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but its descent seemed to bring no coolness, but the goal was nearer. He saw the cataract of the Golden River springing from ice hillside, scarcely five hundred feet above him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and sprang on to complete his task.

At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He turned, and saw a gray-haired old man stretched out on the rocks. His eyes were sunk, and his features deadly pale. "Water!" he stretched his arms to Hans, and cried feebly ,"Water! I am dying."

"I have none," replied Hans; "thou hast had thy share of life." He strode over the body
and darted on. And a flash of blue lightning rose out of the East, shaped like a sword. It
shook thrice over the whole heaven, and left it dark with one heavy, black shade. The sun
was setting; it plunged toward the horizon like a red-hot ball.

The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans's ear. He stood at the brink of the chasm
through which it ran. Its waves were filled with the red glory of the sunset; they shook their crests like tongues of fire, and flashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their sound came mightier and mightier on his senses; his brain grew dizzy with the
prolonged thunder. Shuddering, he drew the flask from his girdle and hurled it into the
center of the torrent. As he did so, an icy chill shot through his limbs; he staggered,
shrieked, and fell. The waters closed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose
wildly into the night as it gushed over THE BLACK STONE.

Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously alone in the house for Hans's return. Finding he did not come back, he was terribly frightened, and went and told Schwartz in the prison all that had happened. Then Schwartz was very much pleased, and said that Hans must certainly have been turned into a black stone, and he should have all the gold to himself. But Gluck was very sorry, and cried all night. When .he got up in the morning, there was no bread in the house, nor any money; so Gluck went and hired himself to another goldsmith, and he worked so hard and so neatly and so long every day that he soon got money enough together to pay his brother's fine. He went then and gave it all to Schwartz, and Schwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was quite pleased and said that Gluck should have some of the gold of the river. But Gluck only begged him to go and see what had become of their brother Hans. .

Now when Schwartz had heard that Hans had stolen the holy water, he determined to
manage matters better. So he took some more of Gluck's money, and went to a bad priest, who gave him some holy water very readily for it. Then Schwartz was sure it was all quite right. He got up early in the morning before the sun rose, took some bread and wine in a basket, put his holy water in a flask, and set off for the mountains. Like his brother, he was much surprised at the sight of the glacier,, and had great difficulty in crossing it, even after leaving his basket behind him.

The day was cloudless, but not bright; there was a heavy purple haze hanging over the
sky, and the hills looked gloomy. And as Schwartz climbed the steep rock path, the thirst
came upon him, as it had upon his brother, until he lifted his flask to his lips to drink. Then he saw the fair child lying near him on the rocks, and it cried to him, and moaned
for water.

"Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't half enough for myself," and passed on. As
he went, he thought the sunbeams grew more dim, and he saw a low bank of black clouds
rising out of the West. When he had climbed for another hour, the thirst overcame him
again, and he would have drunk. Then he saw the old man lying on the path, and moaning
for water. "Water, indeed," said Schwartz; "I haven't half enough for myself," and on he
went.

Then again the light seemed to fade from before his eyes, and he looked up, and behold, a mist had come over the sun. The bank of black cloud too had risen very high, and its edges were tossing and tumbling like the waves of the angry sea. And they cast long shadows, which flickered over Schwartz's path.

Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and again his thirst returned. As he lifted his flask to his lips, he thought he saw his brother Hans lying exhausted on the path before
him, and, as he gazed, the .figure stretched its arms to him and cried for water. "Ha, ha,"
laughed Schwartz, "are you there? Remember the prison bars, my boy. Water, indeed--do
you suppose I carried it all the way up here for you to drink!" And he strode over the
figure. When he had gone a few yards farther, he stopped and looked back, but the figure
was not there.

A sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not why; but the thirst for gold was
stronger than his fear, and he rushed on. The bank of black cloud rose high overhead, and
out of it came bursts of lightning, and waves of darkness seemed to float between their
flashes over the whole heavens. The sky where the sun was setting was all level, like a
lake of blood; and a strong wind came out of that sky, tearing its crimson clouds into
fragments and scattering them far into the darkness. And when Schwartz stood by the
brink of the Golden River, its waves were black, like thunder clouds, but their foam was
like fire; and the roar of the waters below and the thunder above met as he cast the flask
into the stream. As he did so, the lightning glared into his eyes, the earth gave way
beneath him, and the waters closed over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose wildly
into the night, as it gushed over the TWO BLACK STONES.

CHAPTER FOUR
HOW GLUCK MET THE DIFFICULTIES OF HIS JOURNEY

When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back, he was very sorry and did not know what to do. He had no money, so he was obliged to go and hire himself again to the
goldsmith, who worked him very hard and gave him very little money. After a month or
two Gluck grew tired and made up his mind to go and try his fortune with the Golden
River. "The little King looked very kind," thought he. "I don't think he will turn me into a
black stone." So he went to the priest, and the priest gave him some holy water as soon as he asked for it. Then Gluck took some bread in his basket, and the bottle of water, and set off very early for the mountains.

If the glacier had caused his brothers a great deal of fatigue, it was twenty times worse for him, who was neither so strong nor so practiced on the mountains. He had several bad falls, lost his basket and bread, and was very much frightened at the strange noises under the ice. He lay a long time to rest on the grass, after he had crossed over; and began to climb the hill just in the hottest part of the day. When he had climbed for an hour, he became dreadfully thirsty, and was going to drink as his brothers had done, when he saw an old man coming down the path above him, looking very feeble, and leaning on a staff.

"My son," said the old man, "I am faint with thirst; give me some of that water." 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 gave Gluck his blessing, and Gluck went on again merrily. The path became easier to his feet, and two or three blades of grass appeared upon it. 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. 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. Having done this, it smiled on him, got up, and ran down the
hill. Gluck then turned and began climbing again. And behold, there were all kinds of
sweet flowers growing on the rocks, bright green moss, with pale pink, starry flowers,
and gentians more blue than the sky at its deepest, and pure-white transparent lilies.
Crimson and purple butterflies darted hither and thither, and the sky sent down such pure
light that Gluck had never felt so happy.

Yet after he had climbed for another hour, his thirst became unbearable again; and when he looked at his bottle, he saw that there were only five or six drops left in it, and he did not dare to drink. But just 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. 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. He tried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, and he stopped again. "Poor little beast," said Gluck, "it'll be dead when I come down again." Then he looked 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, silky, and 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 King, "but don't be frightened; it's all right. Why didn't you come before, 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."

"Oh, dear me!" said Gluck, "have you really been so cruel?"

"Cruel!" said the dwarf; "they poured unholy water into my stream; do you suppose I'm going to allow that?"

"Why," said Gluck, "I am sure, sir--your Majesty, I mean --they got the water out of the church font."

"Very probably," replied the dwarf; "but"--and his face grew stern as he spoke---"the
water which has been refused to the cry of the weary and dying is unholy, though it had
been blessed by every saint in heaven."

So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a lily that grew at his feet. On its white leaves there hung three drops of clear dew. And the dwarf shook them into the flask which Gluck held in his hand. "Cast these into the river," he said, "and go down on the other side of the mountains into the Treasure Valley. And so good speed."

As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became indistinct. The colors of his robe formed themselves into a mist of dewy light. He stood for an instant veiled with them as with a belt of a broad rainbow. The colors grew faint; the mist rose into the air; the monarch had disappeared.

And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River; its waves were as clear as crystal and as brilliant as the sun. When he cast the three drops of dew into the stream, there opened where they fell a small whirlpool, into which the waters fell with a musical noise.

Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much disappointed because the river was not turned into gold, and its waters seemed less in quantity. Yet he obeyed his friend the dwarf, and went down the other side of the mountains toward the Treasure Valley; and as he went, he thought he heard the noise of water working its way under the ground. Now, when he came in sight of the Treasure Valley, behold, a river was springing from a new cleft in the rocks, and was flowing in streams among the dry heaps of red sand.

As Gluck stood gazing, fresh grass sprang beside the new streams, and creeping plants grew among the moistening soil. Young flowers opened suddenly along the river sides, as stars leap out when twilight is deepening. And thus the Treasure Valley became a garden again, and the lands which had been lost by cruelty were regained by love.And Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor were never driven from his door; so that his barns became full of corn, and his house of treasure. For him the river had, according to the dwarf's promise, become a River of Gold.

To this day the inhabitants of the valley point out the place where the three drops of holy dew were cast into the stream, and trace the course of the Golden River under the ground, until it appears in the Treasure Valley. And at the source of the Golden River there are still to be seen Two Black Stones, round which the waters howl mournfully every day at sunset; and these stones are still called by the people of the valley The Black Brothers.

THE END

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