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.
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