'Come in and welcome, you poor little fellow!' she said, setting wide her door. 'Our fire is not much to boast of, but 'tis better than none on a night like this.' And the shepherd hobbled to the inner room that he might bring his Sunday coat, and place this round their visitor's shoulders while his own lay drying on the hearth. Then the old woman spread a white cloth on the table, and gave the Dwarf her share of the coarse black bread which was all her cupboard contained.
'I thank you, my friends,' he said, breaking the bread into two fragments. As he did so, one became a fine white loaf, and the other a noble cheese. The Dwarf laughed at the old couple's amazement, and bade them feast to their heart's content.
'So long as you leave on the platter a crust of bread and an inch of cheese,' he said, 'so long will a fresh loaf and a fresh cheese spring from these fragments during the night; but if ever a beggar entreats your help, and you refuse him, they will turn to dust and ashes. Now I bid you farewell, but ere long we shall meet again.'
So saying, he went out in the rain, despite their entreaties that he would at least stay with them until the storm was over.
Little sleep did they have that night, for wind and rain swept through the valley. Torrents roared down the mountain side, flooding the wooden houses, and even worse befell at daybreak. An enormous rock snapped off from a topmost peak, and carrying with it great masses of stones and uprooted firs, crashed down on the little village. All living things were buried beneath its weight except the shepherd and his wife, whose cottage yet was spared. Tremblingly they stood on the threshold, for they thought their last hour had come.
'Thou hast been a good wife, my dear one,' breathed the shepherd, as he drew her frail form close to him.
'It is well that we should go together, since thou hast lain by my side for nigh sixty years,' she whispered, hiding her face against his breast.
'How now?' cried a reassuring voice. 'Dost despair so easily?' And looking up they saw their friend the Dwarf riding on a rough raft in the centre of the stream, and steering before him the trunk of an immense pine. This he proceeded to fix crosswise in front of their little garden, so as to form a dam. The torrent now passed by the cottage, leaving it undisturbed, and the voice of the wind was hushed. The sun came out, and the birds sang; but the only people alive in Schillingsdorf were the shepherd and his old wife."