And so it was. Before the cows were let out to pasture, a horn was heard in the distance.
"Hail, friends!" it seemed to call.
Carl rushed into the house for his own horn and gave a strong, clear blast, then another and another. It was an answering cry of welcome and good-will.
A boy about twelve years old soon came into view. He wore a tight-fitting leather cap and heavy shoes with iron-spiked soles like Carl's. He came hurrying along.
"There is to be a party at our village to-night," he said, as soon as he was near enough for Carl to hear. "It will be moonlight, you know, and we will have a jolly time. All your folks must come, too."
Carl and Franz were soon talking with the boy as though they had always known him, yet they had never met before.
"My folks came near forgetting there was any one living here this summer," the strange boy said. "They only thought about it last night, but they very much wish you to come."
He stayed only a few moments, as he had been told to return at once.
"There is plenty to do, you know, to get ready for a party," he said. "Besides, it will take me a good hour to go back by the shortest path around the slope, it winds up and down so much. But you will come, won't you?"
Carl's father and mother were as much pleased by the invitation as were the boys. The milking was done earlier than usual, and the cows were locked up in the stable before the sunset light had coloured the snowy tops of the distant mountains.