It came close on midnight, and he was just putting on the last heel of the last pair of shoes when he was aware of a noise on the floor behind him. He looked round, and there was the red shoe with the pointed toe, cutting capers and prancing about by itself in the middle of the room. “Peace on earth!” exclaimed Lubin. “I never saw a shoe do a thing so tipsy before!” He went up and passed his hand over it and under it, but there was nothing to account for its caperings; on it went, up and down, toeing and heeling, skipping and sliding, as if for a very wager. Lubin could even tell himself the name of the reel and the tune that it was dancing to, for all that the other foot was missing. Presently the shoe tripped and toppled, falling heel up upon the floor; nor, although Lubin watched it for a full hour, did it ever start upon a fresh jig. Soon after daybreak, when Lubin had but just opened his shutters and sat himself down to work, in came the traveller, limping upon bare feet, with the shoe’s fellow pointing its red toe out of his pocket. “Oh, so,” he said, seeing the other shoe ready mended and waiting for him, “how much am I owing you for the job?” “Just a gold piece,” said Lubin, carelessly, carrying on at his work. “A gold piece for the mere mending of a shoe!” cried the stranger. “You must be either a rogue or a funny fellow.” “Neither!” said Lubin, “and for mending a shoe my charge is only a penny; but for mending _that_ shoe, and for all the worry and temptation to make it my own and run off with it—a gold piece!” “To be sure, you are an honest fellow,” said the traveller, “and honesty is a rare gift; though, had you made off with it, I should have soon caught you. Still, you were not so wise as to know that, so here’s your gold piece for you.” He pulled out a big bag of gold as he spoke, pouring its contents out on to the window bench. “That is a lot of money for a lonely man to carry about,” said Lubin. “Are you not afraid?” “Why, no,” answered the man. “I have a way, so that I can always follow it up even if I lose it.” He took two of the gold pieces, and dropped one into the sole of each shoe as he was putting them on. “There!” said he, “now, if any man steal my money, I need only wait till it is midnight; and then I have but to say to my shoes ‘Seek!’ and up they jump, with me in them, and carry me to where my stolen property is, were it to the world’s end. It is as if they had the nose and sagacity of a pair of bloodhounds. Ah, son of a cobbler, had you run off with the one I should have very soon caught you with the other; for if one walks the other is bound to follow. But, as you were honest, we part friends; and I trust God may bring you to fortune.” Then the traveller did up his bag of gold, nodded to the cobbler from the doorway, and was gone. Lubin laid down his work, and went off to the inn. “Did anything happen here last night?” he asked.