See! straight before you on the hillside. Is not that a little form lying there? Look! look! For an instant the little dog stood motionless, straining his gaze out into the distance. Then suddenly he stretched out his head, and raced--flew with all the might of his four little paws toward that dark spot on the hillside. And when it proved to be the grievously wanted little master, he could not find a way to fully express his joy and thankfulness. He wagged his tail, his entire little body quivering with joy--he jumped, yelped, barked, and then pushed his little cold nose against the face of his long-sought friend, and licked and sniffed all over it. "Cuddle down, Presto, in your basket," said Johannes, only half awake. How stupid of the master! There was no basket there, as any one could see. Very, very slowly the day began to break in the mind of the little sleeper. Presto's sniffings he was used to--every morning. But dream-figures of elves and moonshine still lingered in his soul as the morning mists cling to the landscape. He feared that the chill breath of the dawn might chase them away. "Eyes fast shut," thought he, "or I shall see the clock and the wall-paper, just as ever." But he was not lying right. He felt there was no covering over him. Slowly and cautiously he opened his eyelids a very little way. Bright light. Blue sky. Clouds. Then Johannes opened his eyes wide and said: "Is it really true?" Yes, he lay in the middle of the dunes. The cheerful sunshine warmed him, he breathed the fresh morning air, and in the distance a fine mist skirted the woods. He saw only the tall beech tree beside the pond, and the roof of his house rising above the foliage. Bees and beetles hummed about him; above him sang the ascending skylark; from far away came the sound of barkino-does, and the rumble of the distant town. It was all as plain as day. But what had he dreamed and what not? Where was Windekind? And where was the rabbit? He could see neither of them. Only Presto, who sat up against him as close as possible, watching him expectantly. "Could I have been sleep-walking?" murmured Johannes, softly. Beside him was a rabbit-hole. But there were a great many such in the dunes. He sat up straight, so as to give it a good look. What was it he felt in his tightly shut hand? A thrill ran through him from the crown of his head to his feet as he opened his hand. There lay a bright little gold key. For a time he sat speechless. "Presto," said he then, while the tears sprang to his eyes, "Presto, then it _is_ true!" Presto sprang up and tried, by barking, to make it clear to his master that he was hungry and wanted to go home. To the house? Johannes had not thought of that, and cared little to return. But soon he heard different voices calling his name. Then he began to realize that his behavior would be considered neither kind nor courteous; and that, for a long time to come, there would be no friendly words in store for him.