“Wonderful!”cried the farmer,starting up and opening the oven door;and there lay all the nice things hidden by the farmer's wife,but which he supposed had been conjured there by the wizard under the table.The woman dared not say anything;so she placed the things before them,and they both ate of the fish,the meat,and the pastry.
Then Little Claus trod again upon his sack,and it squeaked as before.“What does he say now?”asked the farmer.
“He says,”replied Little Claus,“that there are three bottles of wine for us,standing in the corner,by the oven.”
So the woman was obliged to bring out the wine also,which she had hidden,and the farmer drank it till he became quite merry.He would have liked such a conjuror as Little Claus carried in his sack.“Could he conjure up the evil one?”asked the farmer.“I should like to see him now,while I am so merry.”
“Oh,yes!”replied Little Claus,“my conjuror can do anything I ask him,—can you not?”he asked,treading at the same time on the sack till it squeaked.“Do you hear?he answers ‘Yes,’but he fears that we shall not like to look at him.”
“Oh,I am not afraid.What will he be like?”
“Well,he is very much like a sexton.”
“Ha!”said the farmer,“then he must be ugly.Do you know I cannot endure the sight of a sexton.However,that doesn't matter,I shall know who it is;so I shall not mind.Now then,I have got up my courage,but don't let him come too near me.”
“Stop,I must ask the conjuror,”said Little Claus;so he trod on the bag,and stooped his ear down to listen.
“What does he say?”
“He says that you must go and open that large chest which stands in the corner,and you will see the evil one crouching down inside;but you must hold the lid firmly,that he may not slip out.”
“Will you come and help me hold it?”said the farmer,going towards the chest in which his wife had hidden the sexton,who now lay inside,very much frightened.The farmer opened the lid a very little way,and peeped in.
“Oh,”cried he,springing backwards,“I saw him,and he is exactly like our sexton.How dreadful it is!”So after that he was obliged to drink again,and they sat and drank till far into the night.
“You must sell your conjuror to me,”said the farmer;“ask as much as you like,I will pay it;indeed I would give you directly a whole bushel of gold.”
“No,indeed,I cannot,”said Little Claus;“only think how much profit I could make out of this conjuror.”
“But I should like to have him,”said the fanner,still continuing his entreaties.
“Well,”said Little Claus at length,“you have been so good as to give me a night's lodging,I will not refuse you;you shall have the conjuror for a bushel of money,but I will have quite full measure.”
“So you shall,”said the farmer;“but you must take away the chest as well.I would not have it in the house another hour;there is no knowing if he may not be still there.”
So Little Claus gave the farmer the sack containing the dried horse's skin,and received in exchange a bushel of money—full measure.The farmer also gave him a wheelbarrow on which to carry away the chest and the gold.
“Farewell,”said Little Claus,as he went off with his money and the great chest,in which the sexton lay still concealed.On one side of the forest was a broad,deep river,the water flowed so rapidly that very few were able to swim against the stream.A new bridge had lately been built across it,and in the middle of this bridge Little Claus stopped,and said,loud enough to be heard by the sexton,“Now what shall I do with this stupid chest;it is as heavy as if it were full of stones:I shall be tired if I roll it any farther,so I may as well throw it in the river;if it swims after me to my house,well and good,and if not,it will not much matter.”
So he seized the chest in his hand and lifted it up a little,as if he were going to throw it into the water.
“No,leave it alone,”cried the sexton from within the chest;“let me out first.”
“Oh,”exclaimed Little Claus,pretending to be frightened,“he is in there still,is he?I must throw him into the river,that he may be drowned.”
“Oh,no;oh,no,”cried the sexton;“I will give you a whole bushel full of money if you will let me go.”
“Why,that is another matter,”said Little Claus,opening the chest.The sexton crept out,pushed the empty chest into the water,and went to his house,then he measured out a whole bushel full of gold for Little Claus,who had already received one from the farmer,so that now he had a barrow full.
“I have been well paid for my horse,”said he to himself when he reached home,entered his own room,and emptied all his money into a heap on the floor.“How vexed Great Claus will be when he finds out how rich I have become all through my one horse;but I shall not tell him exactly how it all happened.”Then he sent a boy to Great Claus to borrow a bushel measure.
“What can he want it for?”thought Great Claus;so he smeared the bottom of the measure with tar,that some of whatever was put into it might stick there and remain.And so it happened;for when the measure returned,three new silver florins were sticking to it.
“What does this mean?”said Great Claus;so he ran off directly to Little Claus,and asked,“Where did you get so much money?”
“Oh,for my horse's skin,I sold it yesterday.”
“It was certainly well paid for then,”said Great Claus;and he ran home to his house,seized a hatchet,and knocked all his four horses on the head,flayed off their skins,and took them to the town to sell.“Skins,skins,who'll buy skins?”he cried,as he went through the streets.All the shoemakers and tanners came running,and asked how much he wanted for them.
“A bushel of money,for each,”replied Great Claus.
“Are you mad?”they all cried;“do you think we have money to spend by the bushel?”
“Skins,skins,”he cried again,“who'll buy skins?”but to all who inquired the price,his answer was,“a bushel of money.”
“He is making fools of us,”said they all;then the shoemakers took their straps,and the tanners their leather aprons,and began to beat Great Claus.
