“Yes, and Vinzi helped us so much,” added Jos, who had joined them. “We got up there about ten times quicker than usual and all day the cows were quietly grazing, something they have not done for ages. I wish Vinzi would stay with us always.”
“I am glad to hear that,” said the father. “That’s a good beginning and I hope you will keep on that way.”
He went with the boys to the stable, and Vinzi followed, thinking that his uncle might need his help there.
“What can I do?” he called to his uncle through the open stable door.
The latter was busy milking. “We’ll be done before very long,” answered he, “but you can look about in the barn and stable, if you care to.”
Vinzi went out. The sunset glow was gilding the rocky mountains opposite, the dark spruces had bright, golden tops, and now the bell of the little chapel began to fill the air with its lovely, peaceful music. Vinzi, carried completely away by all the beauty, stood and listened, rooted to the spot. He stood thus until the glow had faded and the chapel bell had stopped.
“Hello!” cried a voice behind him, while a brisk blow fell on his back. Then he was pulled by force to the pump, where the very necessary daily ablutions had to be made before supper.
“Are you awake again?” asked Faz, who had pulled Vinzi along in the firm belief that he had fallen asleep in the middle of the road.
“Yes, and your fists would certainly have awakened him before he got to the water,” said Jos, who had stepped up.
“Yes, indeed,” replied Vinzi, “but I would rather he pulled me along than that he told your father that I fell asleep in the middle of the road. I wasn’t asleep, you know.”