On the Rheinkopf, a high mountain of the lovely Munster Valley, there once lay a lake, almost choked with peat, now artificially dammed, called the Firstmiß (Altenweier). According to legend, many centuries ago it was a deep, crystal-clear lake in which mighty water spirits dwelt, often appearing to lonely travelers or mountain herdsmen when they came near its shores. In its depths, the tale says, these spirits kept rich treasures hidden. Among them was a splendid wagon made entirely of solid gold, which from time to time would rise up from the depths and roll to the rocky shore; and whoever could drag it only a little way beyond the boundary of the spirits’ domain would possess it. But not a single word might be spoken during the whole attempt, for that would not only rob the daring man of the treasure he had almost won, but would also place him in the gravest danger.
Three brothers, strongly tempted by the prospect of such wealth, once agreed to seize the wagon on one of the nights when it was wont to appear. They came to the place before midnight and soon saw the golden wagon rise upon the rushing waters of the lake. The brothers trembled with fear and joy and warned one another by signs not to spoil their fortune through some rash word. The wagon was already out of the water and drawing near the shore. Quickly they seized the golden pole and hauled with sturdy arms, and had already dragged the wagon a fair distance up the slope when a stone rolled down and jammed one of the wheels. “Pull on boldly,” cried one of them, “I’ll get it loose!” Hardly had the last word been spoken when all three were seized by powerful invisible hands and hurled into the wagon, which sank with its prey into the watery abyss.
