It was a strange and beautiful thing to see.  We did not say anything, but sat wondering and dreaming and blinking; and finally Seppi roused up and said, mournfully sighing: 

“I suppose none of it has happened.”

Nikolaus sighed and said about the same.

I was miserable to hear them say it, for it was the same cold fear that was in my own mind.  Then we saw poor old Father Peter wandering along back, with his head bent down, searching the ground.  When he was pretty close to us he looked up and saw us, and said, “How long have you been here, boys?”

“A little while, Father.”

“Then it is since I came by, and maybe you can help me.  Did you come up by the path?”

“Yes, Father.”

“That is good.  I came the same way.  I have lost my wallet.  There wasn’t much in it, but a very little is much to me, for it was all I had.  I suppose you haven’t seen anything of it?”

“No, Father, but we will help you hunt.”

“It is what I was going to ask you.  Why, here it is!”

We hadn’t noticed it; yet there it lay, right where Satan stood when he began to melt—­if he did melt and it wasn’t a delusion.  Father Peter picked it up and looked very much surprised.

“It is mine,” he said, “but not the contents.  This is fat; mine was flat; mine was light; this is heavy.”  He opened it; it was stuffed as full as it could hold with gold coins.  He let us gaze our fill; and of course we did gaze, for we had never seen so much money at one time before.  All our mouths came open to say “Satan did it!” but nothing came out.  There it was, you see—­we couldn’t tell what Satan didn’t want told; he had said so himself.

“Boys, did you do this?”

It made us laugh.  And it made him laugh, too, as soon as he thought what a foolish question it was.

“Who has been here?”

Our mouths came open to answer, but stood so for a moment, because we couldn’t say “Nobody,” for it wouldn’t be true, and the right word didn’t seem to come; then I thought of the right one, and said it: 

“Not a human being.”

“That is so,” said the others, and let their mouths go shut.

“It is not so,” said Father Peter, and looked at us very severely.  “I came by here a while ago, and there was no one here, but that is nothing; some one has been here since.  I don’t mean to say that the person didn’t pass here before you came, and I don’t mean to say you saw him, but some one did pass, that I know.  On your honor—­you saw no one?”

“Not a human being.”

“That is sufficient; I know you are telling me the truth.”

He began to count the money on the path, we on our knees eagerly helping to stack it in little piles.

“It’s eleven hundred ducats odd!” he said.  “Oh dear! if it were only mine—­and I need it so!” and his voice broke and his lips quivered.