Little Claus and Big Claus
"Did you hear him answer? He said 'Yes.' He can conjure up the devil, but he's afraid we won't like the look of him."
"Oh, I'm not afraid. What's he like?"
"Well, he looks an awful lot like a sexton."
"Ho," said the farmer, "as ugly as that? I can't bear the sight of a sexton. But don't let that stop us. Now that I know it's just the devil I shan't mind it so much. I'll face him, provided he doesn't come near me."
"Wait, while I talk with my conjuror." Little Claus trod on the sack and stooped down to listen.
"What does he say?"
"He says for you to go and open that big chest in the corner, and there you'll find the devil doubled up inside it. But you must hold fast to the lid, so he doesn't pop out."
"Will you help me hold it?" said the farmer. He went to the chest in which his wife had hidden the sexton-once frightened, now terrified. The farmer lifted the lid a little, and peeped in.
"Ho!" he sprang back. "I saw him, and he's the image of our sexton, a horrible sight!" After that they needed another drink, and sat there drinking far into the night.
"You must sell me your conjuror," said the farmer. "You can fix your own price. I'd pay you a bushel of money right away."
"Oh, I couldn't do that," Little Claus said. "Just think how useful my conjuror is."
"But I'd so like to have him." The farmer kept begging to buy it.
"Well," said Little Claus at last, "you've been kind enough to give me a night's lodging, so I can't say no. You shall have my sack for a bushel of money, but it must be full to the brim."
"You shall have it", said the farmer. "But you must take that chest along with you too. I won't have it in the house another hour. He might still be inside it. You never can tell."
So Little Claus sold his sack with the dried horsehide in it, and was paid a bushel of money, measured up to the brim. The farmer gave him a wheelbarrow too, in which to wheel away the money and the chest.
"Fare you well," said Little Claus, and off he went with his money and his chest with the sexton in it. On the further side of the forest was a deep, wide river, where the current ran so strong that it was almost impossible to swim against it. A big new bridge had been built across the river, and
When Little Claus came to the middle of it he said, very loud so the sexton could hear him:
"Now what would I be doing with this silly chest? It's as heavy as stone, and I'm too tired to wheel it any further. So I'll throw it in the river, and if it drifts down to my house, well and good, but if it sinks I haven't lost much." Then he tilted the chest a little, as if he were about to tip it into the river.
"Stop! Don't!" the sexton shouted inside. "Let me get out first."
"Oh," said Little Claus pretending to be frightened, "is he still there? Then I'd better throw him into the river and drown him."
"Oh no, don't do that to me!" the sexton shouted. "I'd give a bushel of money to get out of this."
"Why, that's altogether different," said Little Claus, opening the chest. The sexton popped out at once, pushed the empty chest into the water and hurried home to give Little Claus a bushel of money. What with the farmer's bushel and the sexton's bushel, Little Claus had his wheelbarrow quite full.
"I got a good price for my horse," he said when he got home and emptied all the money in a heap on the floor of his room. "How Big Claus will fret when he finds out that my one horse has made me so rich, but I won't tell him how I managed it." Then he sent a boy to borrow a bushel measure from Big Claus.