When the sun had gone down there rose slowly a great cloud mountain, but the greater part of the sky was still clear. There the dear moon wandered. She shone brightly but she was no longer full, for she had given of her light to the young stars as she rose over them. In return they let her cling to them a little, for it is no small thing to walk there above much higher than the highest church tower and not grow dizzy. In all the air a solemn silence ruled; the dark pines stood motionless; they held their breath, as though they waited for a king to pass. But the earth trembled softly; she was freezing and she longed for a soft white covering in which she might wrap herself to sleep. At first the little boy froze too, but soon he grew warm from running and his heart beat fast with the desire to sell his precious horse. As he trotted along he met a fox. “Where are you going, Friedel?” “To sell my horse. Will you have him? I hear that you are a rich man and eat roast goose every day. You should not go on foot.” “Of course not,” said the fox. “But I see what you hold there is a white horse. I prefer to ride my own red-brown one.” “Oh well, pardon,” said Friedel, and went on. Soon he came upon a raven who wore a heavy black coat and called out in a deep voice: “Trot, trot!” “Yes,” answered Friedel, “but he won’t trot, and alas, I have no whip. But tell me, won’t you buy my horse?” “I don’t want it,” croaked the raven, very much hurt. “I have wings and can fly.” “That’s different,” said Friedel, “I didn’t know that.” A little farther on he came upon a sparrow and he asked again: “Master Greyhead, you have so much to do on the streets, won’t you buy my horse?” “Yes, if it were only summer,” said the sparrow, “I could make good use of him; now in winter I find it very difficult to get enough food together for my own span of horses. But we will go down into the city: there it’s easy to get rid of a horse like this any day. See how it shines out there with her thousand lights. Come, I will guide you. I must visit a few courtyards which are under my care.” Friedel was glad in his heart, for where could he have found a better guide or one who knew the world so well? The street sloped down rapidly. The sparrow and Friedel stepped along lightly, the horse close upon their heels. “Now you may see how well he can run, if he only will,” said Friedel; and Master Greyhead said very calmly: “One must have much patience with such unreasonable animals.” They went past the water-mill: the great wheel had made a holiday and was standing still, so the brook had nothing to do and called out to Friedel: “Go back home, go back home; It is cold here outside; Flowers are gone to bed, Frogs sleep deep in the mud, Bats hang in the corners, Cuckoos sing no more, Behind the mountain waits the wind— Back home, go back, dear child!”