“Nothing of much note,” answered the innkeeper. “Three travelling fiddlers were here, and afterwards a man came in barefoot, but with a red shoe sticking out of his pocket. I thought of turning the fellow away, till he let me see the colour of his gold. Presently the fiddlers started to play and the other man to drink. At first when they called on him to dance he excused himself for his feet’s sake; but presently, what with the music and the liquor, he got so lively in his head that he pulled on his one shoe and danced like three ordinary men put together.” “What time was that?” asked Lubin. “Getting on for midnight,” answered the innkeeper. “Ah!” said Lubin, and went home thinking much on the way. Towards evening he found that he had run out of leather, and must go into the town, ten miles off, to buy more. “Now my gold piece comes in handy,” thought he; so he locked up the house, put the key in his pocket, and set out. Though it was the season of long days it was growing dark when he came to a part of the road that led through the wood; but being so poor a man he had no fear, nor thought at all about the robbers who were said to be in those parts. But as he went, he saw all at once by the side of the road two red spikes sticking up out of a ditch, their bright colour making them plain to the eye. He came quite near and saw that they were two red shoes with pointed toes; and then he saw more clearly that along with them lay the traveller, his wallet empty and with a dagger stuck through his heart. The cobbler’s son was as sorry as he could be. “Alas, poor soul,” thought he, “what good are the shoes to you now? Now that thieves have killed you and taken away your gold, surely I do no harm if I give an honest man your shoes!” He stooped down, and was about taking them off when he saw the eyes of the dead man open. The eyes looked at him as if they would remind him of something; and at once, when he loosed hold of the shoes, they seemed satisfied. Then he remembered, and thought to himself, “The world has many marvels in it; I will wait till midnight and see.” For over three hours he kept watch by the dead man’s side. “Only last night,” he said to himself, “this poor fellow was dancing as merry a measure as ever I saw, for the half of it surely I saw; and now!” Then he judged that midnight must be come, so he bent over the shoes and whispered to them but one word. The dead man stood up in his shoes and began running. Lubin followed close, keeping an eye on him, for the shoes made no sound on the earth. They ran on for two hours, till they had come to the thickest part of the forest; then some way before them Lubin began to see a light shining. It came from a small square house in a court-yard, and round the court-yard lay a deep moat; only one narrow plank led over and up to the entrance.