Soon the children heard the playing of the little flute Beowald always carried with him. Then, rounding a curve nearby came a flock of capering goats. At the head of them marched the old goat with his big curling horns.
“Here he comes!” said the little prince, and he ran to meet the goatherd. Beowald came to sit down with the company, asking them how they felt after their adventure.
“Oh, Beowald — it was a thrilling time,” said Paul. “I don’t know what would have happened to us if it hadn’t been for you. I want to reward you, Beowald. We are all grateful to you — but I, most of all.”
“Do not speak to me of rewards, little lord,” said the goatherd, and he played a little tune on his flute.
“Beowald, I want you to come and live with me,” said Paul. “You shall come back to the big palace, and I will give you a uniform. You shall no longer herd goats on the mountain-side! You shall be my man and my friend!”
Beowald looked towards the little prince with his dark, empty eyes. He shook his head and smiled.
“Would you make me unhappy, little prince? I would break my heart in a strange place, under a roof. The mountains are my home. They know me and I know them. They know the feel of my feet, and I know the song of their winds and streams. And my goats would miss me, especially this old one.”
The big horned goat had been standing by Beowald all the time, listening as if he understood every word. He stamped with his forefoot, and came close to the goatherd, as if to say, “Master, I agree with you! You belong here! Do not go away!”
“I did so want to reward you,” said Paul disappointed.
“You can reward me, little lord,” said Beowald, smiling. “Come to see me sometimes, and let me play my tunes to you. That will be enough reward for me. And I will make you a flute of your own, so that you too may learn the mountain songs and take them back to the big palace with you.”