“Come now,” another of the Schneeberg men rejoined: “all the stories of treasure-seekers aren’t as dismal as these. Look at the story of Jahnsbach. Jahn was a poverty-stricken fellow, tramping about after work; and one night, as he was wandering in the forest near the Greifenstein, having lost his way, he too met a dwarf, that stood beckoning to him. He followed, not without fears, and the dwarf led him into a dark, narrow-mouthed cavern; but no sooner were they within, than it broadened out into a stately hall, with walls of silver and chairs and tables of gold, all lit up as bright as day by thousands of wax-candles in crystal candlesticks. At one table sat twelve men of noble mien, each wearing the stately dress of a knight. The dwarf invited the astonished Jahn to sit down and eat with them, and he obeyed, for hunger gets the better of shyness. He had never before had such a meal, and he felt refreshed after it, and in excellent spirits. The twelve men seemed to enjoy his company, and bade the dwarf fill up his wallet. Jahn took leave of them with hearty thanks, and the dwarf led him out of the cavern, showed him the road he was in search of, and then disappeared. When Jahn unpacked the wallet, which was very heavy, he found that the kindly spirits had filled it with bars of gold and silver. In his joy and gratitude, he vowed that he would make a good use of it; and so he built, not far from Thum, a little group of houses, which he gave rent-free to the poor; and they say he did much good besides, to the sick and needy. And I never heard that any harm happened to him. Ye may prove the truth of the tale, for the village of Jahnsbach, which grew up round that knot of houses, is called after him.”
“It seems to me,” said a young man, who, sitting by the fire in deep study over a roll of paper, had not yet spoken, “that in these tales of yours, only those came to harm who themselves sought after money, greedily, and merely for their own use. But methinks, after all, the best and safest way of getting wealth is to work for it. I, too, hope to find a pot of gold in the earth, but not by your manner of seeking.”
The men turned and looked at him, with more dislike and suspicion in their faces than they had shown to the Hartz miner.
“Yea, by witchcraft,” muttered one of them under his breath, in response to the young fellow’s words. For Christopher Schürer, also, was no native of these mountains, and, besides, his doings were too strange, in the eyes of the rough mining-folk, to be regarded as anything but uncanny. He had fled from his native province of Westphalia to escape religious persecution; and his knowledge of chemistry, and general cleverness, had quickly won him a high position in the works. Here was already food for jealousy; but, besides this, he had lately taken to shutting himself up in a little workshop of his own, and busying himself with experiments, by which, if the truth were known, he one day hoped to turn the hateful ‘blind ore’ to good account, and build up the fortunes of Schneeberg and its people. But this was a deep secret; all his fellow-workmen knew was that he kept his “smelting-hut” carefully locked, and would tell no one what he was doing. “And what could that mean save one thing?” said they. Had they known as well, that he had raised his eyes to Master Ran’s lovely Gretchen, and that his love was returned, their feeling against him would have been yet more bitter.
“Well,” resumed the Hartzman, a bold fellow, who had been heard to declare that he would stake body and soul on winning beautiful Gretchen, “I say again, there is danger in ‘gold-lifting,’ but I am not the one to give up happiness and wealth for that. Danger or no, I am off to seek for gold, away from this poverty-stricken place; and it is back to my own mountains I shall go. That is the place for hidden treasure. But I think Mistress Gretchen’s suitors should play fair; one must not sneak in before another; so, if there be any here bent on the same quest, let them stand forth, and agree with me to fix a time when we shall all meet again, ready to go before Master Ran and show which has won the wager.”
“That is but right,” answered the men; and two of them stood up and announced that they meant to join in the contest One was a strapping young fellow, bold and careless, fond of the dice and the bottle, and well known to be one of Mistress Gretchen’s most desperate admirers. The other was a pale, red-haired man, with a shifty glance; it was plain he could never hope to get any girl except by tempting her with gold.
“What, only three of us!” cried the Hartzman; “only three to contend for the winning of so fair a flower?”
“The stakes are too high for common men to take a hand,” replied one of the Schneebergers, laughing awkwardly: “perhaps when ye have all failed, there will be a chance for humbler and less daring folk.”
“Well, so be it,” rejoined the Hartzman; “I have no fear of failure, and six months is enough for me, but that I must have, for my goal lies far off. Say, comrades, shall we meet here again this day six months, and report our success?”
“There is one more would join you,” spoke a quiet voice from the chimney-corner, and Christopher Schürer rose and came towards them. “I do not mean to dig for pots of gold, or to follow dwarfs into dark caverns, but if I get the needful wealth, I suppose I may contend with the rest?”