Such a night as it was! Howling wind and rushing rain without intermission! The brothers had just sense enough left to put up all the shutters and double-bar the door before they went to bed. They usually slept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve they were both awakened by a tremendous crash. Their door broke open with a violence that shook the house from top to bottom,
“What’s that?” cried Schwartz, starting up in his bed.
“Only I,” said the little gentleman.
The two brothers sat up on their pillows and stared into the darkness. The room was full of water, and by the misty moonbeam which found its way through a hole in the shutter they could see in the midst of it an immense foam globe, spinning round and bobbing up and down like a cork, on which, as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the little old gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty of room for it now, for the roof was off.
“Sorry to inconvenience you,” said their visitor, with a laugh. “I’m afraid your beds are dampish; perhaps you had better go to your brother’s room; I’ve left the ceiling on there.”
They required no second admonition, but rushed into Gluck’s room, wet through, and in an agony of terror.
“You’ll find my card on the kitchen table,” the old gentleman called after them. “Remember, the last visit!”
“Pray Heaven it may!” said Schwartz, shuddering. And the foam globe disappeared.
Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked out of Gluck’s window in the morning. The Treasure Valley was one mass of ruin and desolation. The flood had swept away trees, crops, and cattle, and left in their stead a waste of red sand and gray mud. The two brothers crept shivering and horror-struck into the kitchen. The water had gutted the whole first floor; grain, money, almost every movable thing had been swept away, and there was left only a small white card on the kitchen table. On it, in large, breezy, long-legged letters, were engraved the words:
