While he lay thus, sobbing aloud and filling the cups of the moss with his tears, he heard a heavy tread approaching. Glancing up fearfully,--for he had no hope to meet a friendly face, since none in all the world had ever smiled upon him,--he saw a Farmer approaching with a great axe over his shoulder. “Hullo, there!” cried the Farmer when he spied Karl under the tree. “You Simpleton, better get up. I am going to cut down that tree which grows over your head.” “Cut down my tree!” gasped Karl, and he began to tremble. Was he to lose his only friend? “_Your_ tree!” jeered the Farmer. “Poor Fool, I never knew that you owned anything, even your senses. The tree is mine, with the land on which it grows and acres on every hand. I am going to cut down the tree to make firewood for next winter. That is all trees are good for.” “Oh, do not do that!” begged Karl, spreading out his arms as if to protect the tree. “I will not let you cut it down!” “Ho ho!” laughed the Farmer. “How will you prevent it, Simpleton? And what is the tree to you, anyway?” “The only big tree there is anywhere!” sobbed Karl. “The only shade; the only safe, quiet, cool, kind place in the whole world! O Man, do not cut down the tree! You cannot make another.” The Farmer had lifted his axe to strike, but now he paused and rested it on the ground. Karl’s last words had struck him with a new thought. “The Fool speaks a word of wisdom,” he growled to himself. “It is easier to cut down a tree like this than to make another. The acorn which I might plant to-day would become no such tree in my lifetime--nor in that of my son, or my grandson, or my great-grandson, for that matter. Fool, I will think it over (the more fool I, ’tis likely). I will spare _your_ tree--ha ha!--for a time. I can cut it down whenever I like. But as you say, I cannot soon grow another. My folly bids yours good-day, Fool.” [Illustration: KARL AND THE DRYAD] Shouldering his axe, the Farmer trudged half sulkily away. Then Karl fell to sobbing again, but this time with joy that his tree was spared. He flung his arm around the great trunk and pressed his lips against the rough bark, kissing it again and again. Suddenly he heard a sharp crack in the oak; another and another, as if the bark were being ripped away. He started up in a fright and stood back from the tree, wondering what was happening to his old friend.