"Heave it up," says Misery.
The poor peasant set to work to heave it up, and Misery helped him, groaning, and complaining that the peasant was nothing of a fellow because he could not do his work by himself. Well, they heaved it up, and there below it was a deep hole, and the hole was filled with gold pieces to the very top; more gold pieces than ever you will see copper ones if you live to be a hundred and ten.
"Well, what are you staring at?" says Misery. "Stir yourself, and be quick about it, and load all this gold into the cart."
The peasant set to work, and piled all the gold into the cart down to the very last gold piece; while Misery sat on the stone and watched, groaning and chuckling in his weak, wretched little voice.
"Be quick," says Misery; "and then we can get back to the tavern."
The peasant looked into the pit to see that there was nothing left there, and then says he,—
"Just take a look, little Master Misery, and see that we have left nothing behind. You are smaller than I, and can get right down into the pit...."
Misery slipped down from the stone, grumbling at the peasant, and bent over the pit.
"You've taken the lot," says he; "there's nothing to be seen."
"But what is that," says the peasant—"there, shining in the corner?"