“If you find it dear,” said the merchant’s son, “go and hire some other man. But you saw how many people were waiting here for work when you came, and in what haste they all got out of the way.”
“Very well,” said the noble, “meet me tomorrow morning at the harbor.”
Early next day they met at the harbor, went on board a ship, and sailed to the island. There they ate and drank and took their ease for one day, and on the following morning mounted horses and rode up into the mountains. They arrived at the steep wall of rock near the summit of the highest peak, and the noble said, “Now let us have a drink.”
“But first,” said the youth, “you who are chief must drink. Let me treat you with what I have brought in my own flask.”
So the noble drank, but the merchant’s son had betimes filled his flask with a sleeping potion that put his master into a sound sleep. Then he killed the lame old horse he rode, removed the entrails, thrust the noble and the spade into the body and sewed him up in there. Afterward he hid in the bushes. Soon the black, iron-beaked crows flew down, took up the carcass of the horse, carried it to the top of the cliff, and began pecking at it. When they had made an opening to where the noble lay, he awoke, crawled out, and looked around. “Where am I?” said he.
“You are on the golden mountain,” bawled the merchant’s son. “Take your spade and dig gold and throw it down to me.”
The noble dug and dug, and threw down the gold, and the youth packed it on to the noble’s horse until he had all the creature could carry. “That’s enough,” he called. “Thanks for your labor. Adieu!”
“But how am I to get off this mountain?” cried the noble.
“Why, get off as best you can,” answered the youth. “Ninety-nine of your sort have perished on that golden summit. You can be the hundredth.”
The merchant’s son returned to the splendid castle beside the sea, married the lovely damsel, took possession of the noble’s riches, and then went in a ship to his native city. There he dwelt in peace and plenty the rest of his life.