Thereupon she helped him to place the stout sack of acorns upon his shoulders, and with a wave of the wand started him forth upon his pilgrimage. Smiling with joy to think that at last he was about to be of some use in the world, Karl bent his long frame under the heavy burden, and trudged out of the little wood. When he reached the highroad, he turned to wave a last farewell to the Dryad. But already she had retreated into her tree-cell, closing the door behind her so tightly that one would never know where it opened. It was to his friend the great oak, alone, that Karl bade his last good-by. Thus Karl began his pilgrimage with the green sack of acorns on his back, and with neither penny nor crust in his pocket. He began his pilgrimage at dusk, when every one was indoors at the evening meal; so no one thought of him, or spied his doings. With great glee the simple fellow planted his first acorn in the heart of the village, just within sight of the parent oak. So long as light lasted he trudged on with a happier heart than he had ever known. He was being of some use to the world! He did not understand how, but he believed the gentle Dryad’s promise. At every hundred paces he planted an acorn, and he was so busy counting his steps between whiles that he forgot all his troubles. And this, too, the wise Dryad had foreseen. At last, when the way had grown so dim that Karl could barely see to dig earth for the last planting, a wayfarer accosted him. “What ho, Stranger! What are you doing there?” cried this man. “I am planting an acorn,” said Karl simply. “Ho ho! what an idea!” cried the fellow with a guffaw. “You’ll never live to enjoy the oak that grows from that acorn. Why do you take so much trouble for nothing, my funny fellow?” Then Karl told him the whole story, as the Dryad had bade him do. And when he paused at the end, the man was silent for a little time. “Poor fellow!” he said at last. “Simple, simple! What a story made of fool’s fancies! An oak tree--a maiden coming out of it--acorns to be planted along the road for shade and rest! Yet--there is something in that last thought. It might not be a bad thing to have trees along our highways, though I never before heard of such a thing. Whew! I know I should have been glad to-day for the shade of a tree when I ate my luncheon in the burning sun.--Have you supped? Where do you lodge to-night, lad?” Karl dropped his foolish mouth and said blankly that he did not know. In truth, he had never thought of the matter until that minute. But the stranger clapped him on the shoulder and said,-- “Come home with me and I will give you a bed and a sup. Your wonderful story deserves so much reward.”