On the following day Herr Feland had to make a journey down into the valley. Rita knew very well why, and hopped with delight all the morning long. Her papa did not go, without impressing it upon his little "grasshopper" that she must not take a step alone away from the house, and Fräulein Hohlweg received strict instructions. But she had endured such anguish that terrible night that the warnings were unnecessary. On the contrary she had determined from now on not to take her eyes off from Rita, no matter how hard it might be.
Two days later, when Martin had just sat down with his family at the table to their meal of steaming potatoes, they heard a loud mooing in front of the house—then again, and then a third time!
"Kaspar's cow must have run away," said Martin, getting up to go and catch her. Seppli had to go too! He ran hurriedly after his father, Martheli, Friedli and Bertheli followed, and behind them their mother, in order to fetch them all back again.
Outside Father Martin was standing in motionless astonishment, and all the others beside him opened their eyes wide. The mother, who had just come along, clapped her hands and couldn't speak a word from amazement. Fastened near the house stood a glossy brown cow, so big and splendid, such as was only seen occasionally among the rich peasants. To one of her horns was fastened a big whip, which had a strong, white, leather mesh with a thick, silk lash which shimmered in the sun like gold!
A paper was bound around the whip-handle and on this was written in large letters: "For Seppli."
Martin took down the whip and gave it to the boy.
"It is yours," he said.
Seppli held the whip in his hand. The most beautiful and the most wonderful thing he could think of was his very own! And, besides, there was the cow, which could be driven up on the mountain, with the whip to crack, like Georgie's and Chappi's!
Seppli, with beaming eyes, seized his whip, hugged it and held it fast, as if to say:
"No power on earth can take it from me!"