"Early next morning George set out on the road home. He hail a nice piece of bacon, a fair white loaf, and some flax for his mother, all wrapped up in a bundle at his back. He tied a cord round the goat's neck, and drove her before him. It was a sharp cold morning. The ground was hard with frost, and covered lightly with snow, and the hoar frost hung on every leaf and branch. "As the little boy passed over the hill toward the village of Wolfsbuhl, he came to the ruined chapel. The door was open, and tying the goat to the iron handle of the door, he entered. Within, seated on a stone bench, he found a gray-haired and decrepid old man, with a large bundle of wood lying at his feet. He was weeping, and regarding the goat with a fixed attention. "'Why do you weep, good father?' said George. "'Alas!' said the old man. 'My heart is sorrowful, and the sight of the goat awakened the memory of my grief.' "'How so?' "'Ah!' said the old man, 'I had one of the kind, whose milk was my best nourishment, but the wolf killed her. Now I have nothing but bread and water, and my strength is fast failing. I am not even able to carry this bundle of sticks to my cottage, which lies at the bottom of the hill.' "George remembered that his mother had always taught him to do good to those who needed his help, so telling the story of his own sorrow, he offered to carry the old man's bundle to his door. The old man declined the offer. "'Indeed,' George said, 'it is no trouble to me. God has given me health and strength. I will early your bundle to your cottage, and the goat can meanwhile stay with you.' "Said the old man, 'There is no danger of the goat, the people about here are honest folk, and I pledge my word that she will not be stolen.' "So George took up the bundle, placed it on his shoulders, and at a rapid pace, now running, now bounding, began the descent of the hill. The old man leisurely followed, heartily thanking the poor boy for his kindness and charity. "'God will reward,' he said, 'a hundred thousand fold this act of kind courtesy to a poor stranger.' "Shaking the old man's hand, George began bounding up the hill, thinking to himself that it was quite possible for those who had no money to do acts of charity if they would. "Scarcely had he proceeded ten paces, when a number of people met him, crying out, as loud as they could, 'The wolf! The wolf!' "'Where is the wolf?' cried George, begin-fling to tremble with alarm. "'On the top of the hill, running toward the old chapel.' "'O my goat, my goat,' said George, 'how shall I be able to help my poor mother now?'