The shepherd thought a bit, and then he said, “The wisest man in these parts lives up in the little cottage on the other side of the village. He cured my sheep two years back when all the flock were sick and many died—a little cottage with a red gate.” Hulda thanked the shepherd, and went on till she came to the little cottage with the red gate. When she had knocked at the door a tall man came out, and she asked him if ’twas he who had cured the shepherd’s sheep, and as he was so clever, if he would tell her what to do. She told him she wanted to find a dwarf who led a donkey covered with musical instruments, and whom she knew to be a wicked sorcerer, since he struck folk dumb. The tall man looked at her and said, “My business is to cure sheep, cows, and horses, and I know it right well; but I know nothing of dwarfs and witches, and how can I tell you which way he has gone, or anything about him?” “Then of whom had I best ask?” said Hulda. “Tell me who is the wisest and most learned man in these parts, and I will go to him.” The tall man rubbed his head and considered. “I suppose,” quoth he, “that the old school-master at the village school yonder would be said to be the most learned man hereabouts, for he teaches the children all sorts of things that they forget when they grow up. That is the school-house on the hill.” So on went Hulda again to the school. As she came near she could hear the children calling out their lessons, and their master, who was an old priest, teaching them. So she waited about till school hours were over, and the children had all come out, and then she timidly went in and curtseyed to the old school-master, and told him her tale, and asked him, as he was so very learned, if he would advise her what to do; but instead of answering her the old man at first stared at her in bewilderment, and then he said, “I can teach you to read and write and many wonderful things, but of dwarfs who can steal a boy’s voice I know nothing. You would do best not to think more of it.” “But some one there must be,” cried Hulda, beginning to cry, “who can tell me what to do, and which way to go. For I am sure that the old man was a fairy, and if so, no living man can help Othmar, but only he who did the mischief can undo it.” The old priest looked at her sadly and shook his head. “My child,” he said, “this is a foolish talk about fairies and sorcerers, I know nothing of such things. It is only untaught folk and fools who give heed to such matters.” “To untaught folk and fools then I must go, for surely they can help me more than the wise,” she cried. So she left the school-house, and started again through the little village street. The first person she met was a baker going home after taking round his bread, and she stopped him and asked him who was the most ignorant and foolish person in those parts. [Illustration]