All week long Little Claus had to plow for Big Claus and lend him his only horse. Then Big Claus paid him back with all his horses, but only one day a week, and that was on Sunday. Whew! How Little Claus cracked the whip over all five horses! After all, they were as good as his on that one day. The sun shone so brightly, and the church bells chimed for services. People were all dressed up and walked with their psalm books under their arms to hear the pastor preach. They all looked at Little Claus, plowing with his five horses, and he was so pleased with himself that he cracked the whip again and called out, “Giddy-up, all my horses!”

“You mustn’t say that,” said Big Claus. “Only one horse is yours, you know.”

But when some more people went by on their way to church, Little Claus forgot he wasn’t supposed to say that and yelled, “Giddy-up, all my horses!”

“Now cut that out!” said Big Claus. “If you say that one more time, I’ll hit your horse on the head so it drops dead on the spot! It’ll be all over for him.”

“I certainly won’t say it again,” promised Little Claus, but then when people walked by again and nodded to him, he thought having five horses to plow his field was so impressive that he cracked the whip and called out, “Giddy-up, all my horses!”

“I’ll giddy-up your horse!” said Big Claus, and took his tethering mallet and whacked Little Claus’ only horse on the head so it fell down quite dead.

“Oh! Now I don’t have a horse anymore,” said Little Claus and started to cry. Afterwards he skinned the horse, dried the skin in the wind, put it in a bag on his shoulder, and headed into town to sell his horse-skin.

It was a long way to walk. He had to go through a big dark forest, and a dreadful storm arose. He became completely lost, and before he found the right road, evening came, and it was too far to get to town or home again before nightfall.

There was a big farm right by the road. The windows were shuttered, but light could and did shine out the top. “I imagine they will let me stay here overnight,” thought Little Claus, and went up and knocked on the door.

The farmer’s wife opened the door, but when she heard what he wanted, she told him to leave because her husband wasn’t home, and she wouldn’t let a stranger in.

“Well then, I’ll have to sleep outside,” Little Claus said, and the farmer’s wife shut the door on him.

Close by was a big haystack, and between that and the house was a little shed with a flat thatched roof.

“That’s where I’ll sleep!” said Little Claus when he saw the roof. “That’s a lovely bed indeed. I’m sure the stork won’t fly down and bite my legs.” You see, there was a live stork up on the roof, where he had his nest.

So Little Claus climbed up onto the shed, where he lay and twisted about to get comfortable. The wooden shutters on the windows didn’t close completely at the top, and so he could look right into the room. There was a big table set with wine, a roast, and such a lovely fish. Only the farmer’s wife and the sexton were at the table, and she poured wine for him, and he stuffed himself with fish because that was something he really liked.

“Oh, if only I could have a bite of that!” Little Claus said and stretched his head way over by the window. God, what a beautiful cake he could see there! Here was luxury for sure!

Then he heard someone riding towards the house on the road. It was the woman’s husband, who was coming home. He was a kind man, but he had the most remarkable malady—he could not tolerate the sight of sextons. If a sexton came into view, he became absolutely furious. And that was why the sexton had come to visit the woman when he knew the farmer was not at home, and why the good woman treated him to all the best food she had in the house. When they heard the husband coming, they became very frightened, and the woman told the sexton to get into a big empty chest in the corner. He did that at once because he knew, of course, that the poor man couldn’t tolerate the sight of sextons. The farmer’s wife hurried to hide the scrumptious food and wine in the oven, because if the husband saw it, he would certainly have asked what the meaning of this was.

Up on the shed, Little Claus sighed, “Oh well,” when he saw all the good food disappear.

“Is there somebody up there?” asked the farmer and peered up at Little Claus. “What are you doing up there? Come down into the house instead.”

So then Little Claus explained how he had gotten lost and asked if he could spend the night.

“Sure!” the farmer said. “But first we’ll have a bite to eat!”

The woman welcomed them both warmly, set the long table, and gave them a big bowl of porridge. The farmer was hungry and ate with a good appetite, but Little Claus couldn’t help but think about the lovely roast, fish, and cake that he knew was in the oven.

He had put the bag with his horse-skin under the table by his feet, because we know, of course, that’s why he left home—to sell it in town. The porridge didn’t taste very good to him, and so he stepped on the bag, and the dry skin in the sack creaked pretty loudly.

“Hush!” Little Claus said to the bag, but at the same time he stepped on it again, so it creaked much louder than before.

“Say, what do you have in your bag?” asked the farmer.

“Oh, it’s a wizard,” answered Little Claus. “He says that we shouldn’t eat porridge because he has conjured up the whole oven full of roast and fish and cake.”

“What’s that!” the farmer cried, and he quickly opened the oven where he saw all the lovely food his wife had hidden, but which he now thought the wizard had conjured up for them. The woman didn’t dare say a thing, but put the food on the table right away, and they ate fish and roast and cake. Then Little Claus stepped on the bag again, so the skin creaked.

“What’s he saying now?” asked the farmer.

“He says,” Little Claus said, “that he has also conjured up three bottles of wine for us. They are over in the corner by the oven.” So then the woman had to bring out the wine she had hidden, and the farmer drank, became very merry, and said that he would really like to own a wizard like the one Little Claus had in the bag.

“Could he conjure up the devil, too?” asked the farmer. “I would really like to see him because I’m in such a good mood.”

“Yes,” Little Claus answered. “My wizard can do anything I want. Isn’t that right?” he said and stepped on the bag so it creaked. “Can you hear him answer, ‘yes?’ But the devil is so disgusting, it’s not worth seeing him.”

“Oh, I’m not a bit afraid no matter what he looks like.”

“Well, he looks just like a real live sexton!”

“Whew!” the farmer said, “that’s bad. You see I can’t tolerate the sight of sextons. But never mind. As long as I know it’s the devil, maybe I can stand it better. I’m brave now, but he mustn’t come too close to me.”

“Well, I’ll ask my wizard,” Little Claus said, stepped on the bag, and held his ear close.

“What does he say?”

“He says you can go over and open that chest in the corner. You’ll see the devil sitting there pondering, but you have to hold on to the lid so he doesn’t slip out.”

“Will you help me hold it?” asked the farmer, who went over to the chest where the woman had hidden the real sexton, who was sitting in there terrified.

The farmer lifted the lid a little bit and peeked in: “Ugh—!” he screamed and sprang backwards. “I saw him there all right. He looked just like our sexton! Oh, it was terrible!”

They had to drink to that, and they kept drinking way into the night.

“You have to sell me that wizard,” the farmer said. “Just name your price. I’ll give you a whole bushel of money right now!”

“No, I can’t do that,” answered Little Claus. “Just think of all the uses I have for this wizard.”

“Oh, I really really want it,” said the farmer and continued to beg.

“Well,” Little Claus finally said, “Since you’ve been kind enough to put me up tonight, then never mind. I’ll give you the wizard for a whole bushel of money, but I want a heaping bushel.”

“You’ll have it,” the farmer said. “But you have to take the chest with you. I don’t want it in the house a minute longer. He might still be sitting in there.”

Little Claus gave the farmer the bag with the dried skin inside and received a heaping bushel full of money for it. The farmer also gave him a big wheelbarrow to carry the money and chest.

“Good bye!” said Little Claus, and he took off with his money and the big chest, with the sexton still inside.

On the other side of the forest there was a big deep river. The water ran so swiftly that it was almost impossible to swim against the current. A big new bridge had been built across it, and Little Claus stopped right in the middle of it and said so loudly that the sexton could hear every word: “Well, what am I going to do with this dumb old chest? It’s as heavy as if it had stones in it. I’m tired of hauling it further so I’ll just throw it into the river. If it sails home to me, fine, and, if not, that’s all right too.”

So he grabbed the chest with one hand and lifted it a little, as though he were going to throw it into the water.

“No! Stop!” yelled the sexton inside the chest. “Just let me out of here!”

“Yikes!” Little Claus shouted, and acted afraid. “He’s still in there! I’ll have to throw it into the river right away so that he’ll drown.”

“Oh no, oh no!” the sexton screamed. “I’ll give you a whole bushel of money if you don’t.”

“Well, that’s another matter,” Little Claus said, and he opened the chest. The sexton climbed out right away, pushed the empty chest into the water, went home, and gave Little Claus a whole bushel full of money. Since he already had one from before from the farmer, remember, his wheelbarrow was now completely full of money!

“Well, I was pretty well paid for that horse,” Little Claus said to himself when he got back to his own house and dumped all the money in a big pile on the floor. “Big Claus will be annoyed when he finds out how rich I’ve become from my one horse, but I’ll be darned if I tell him about it right away.”

Then he sent a boy over to Big Claus’ place to borrow a bushel scale.

“I wonder what he wants that for?” Big Claus thought and spread some tar under the bottom so something would remain of whatever was measured. And it did too because when he got the scale back, there were three new silver coins stuck on it.

“What’s this?” said Big Claus and ran right over to Little Claus’ house. “Where have you gotten all that money from?”

“Oh, it’s from my horse-hide. I sold it last night.”

“That was really a good deal!” Big Claus said, ran right home, took an axe, struck all four of his horses in the head, skinned them, and drove off with them to town.

“Hides! Hides! Who wants hides?!” he shouted through the streets.

All the shoemakers and tanners came running and asked what he wanted for them.

“A bushel full of money each,” Big Claus said.

“Are you nuts?” they all asked him, “Do you think we have bushels of money?”

“Hides! Hides! Who wants hides?!” he shouted again, but to everyone who asked how much they cost, he answered, “A bushel full of money.”

“He’s making fun of us,” they all agreed. Then the shoemakers took their straps, and the tanners took their leather aprons, and they started to beat Big Claus.

“Hides! Hides!” they mimicked him. “We’ll give you a hide that’ll be both black and blue! Out of town with you!” they shouted, and Big Claus had to ski-daddle out of there as fast as he could, for he had never been thrashed so much in his life.

“Little Claus is going to get it!” he said when he got home. “I’m going to kill him for this.”

But back at Little Claus’ house, his old grandmother was dead. Even though she had been cross and mean to him, he was pretty sad anyway, and he took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed to see if she would come back to life. She could lie there the whole night, and he himself would sit on a stool in the corner and sleep. He had done that before.

As he sat there during the night, the door opened, and Big Claus came in with his axe. He must have known exactly where Little Claus’ bed was because he went right over to it and hit the dead grandmother on the head, thinking it was Little Claus.

“So there!” he said. “You won’t fool me again!” and then he went home.

“That is really a bad and mean man,” said Little Claus, “He wanted to kill me. It’s a good thing for the old lady that she was already dead, or he would have killed her.”

Then he dressed the old grandmother in her best Sunday clothes, borrowed a horse from his neighbor, hitched it to the carriage, and set the grandmother up in the backseat, so that she couldn’t fall out while he was driving, and away they went through the forest. When the sun came up, they were outside a large inn. Little Claus stopped there and went inside to get something to eat.

The innkeeper had lots of money and was also a very kind man, but he was quick-tempered, as if he were full of pepper and tobacco.

“Good morning,” he said to Little Claus, “You’re out early in your fancy clothes today.”

“Yes,” Little Claus said, “I’m on my way to town with my old grandmother. She’s sitting out there in the carriage, and I can’t get her into the inn. Would you please take her a glass of mulled wine? But you have to speak loudly because she’s very hard of hearing.”

“Yes, I’ll do that,” said the innkeeper and poured a large glass of wine that he took out to the dead grandmother, who was propped up in the carriage.

“Here’s a glass of wine from your son,” said the innkeeper, but the dead woman didn’t say a word, just sat completely still.

“Can’t you hear?” shouted the innkeeper as loudly as he could. “Here’s a glass of wine from your son.”

He shouted it again and again, but when she didn’t budge an inch, he got mad and threw the glass right into her face so the wine ran down over her nose, and she fell over backwards in the carriage since she was just propped up, not tied.

“What’s this!” yelled Little Claus. He ran out of the door and grabbed the innkeeper, “You’ve killed my grandmother! Look here—she has a big hole in her forehead!”

“Oh, it was an accident!” cried the innkeeper and clasped his hands together. “It’s all because of my quick temper. Oh, sweet Little Claus, I’ll give you a whole bushel of money and have your grandmother buried as if she were my own, but just don’t say anything about it, or they’ll chop my head off, and that’s so unpleasant.”

Then Little Claus got a whole bushel of money, and the innkeeper buried the old grandmother as if she had been his own.

When Little Claus got home with all the money, he immediately sent his boy over to Big Claus to ask whether he could borrow his scale.

“What?!” said Big Claus. “Didn’t I kill him? This I have to see for myself,” and so he took the scale over to Little Claus in person.

“Now where did you get all that money from?” he asked, his eyes open wide at the sight of all the additional money.

“You killed my grandmother, not me,” said Little Claus. “Now I have sold her and got a bushel of money for her.”

“That was really a good deal,” Big Claus said and hurried home. He took an axe and immediately killed his old grandmother, laid her in his wagon, and drove into town to the drug store, and asked the druggist if he wanted to buy a dead body.

“Who is it, and where have you gotten it?” asked the druggist.

“It’s my grandmother,” said Big Claus. “I’ve killed her for a bushel of money!”

“God save us!” said the druggist. “You’re out of your mind! Don’t say something like that, or you’ll lose your head!”

Then the druggist told him sternly what a terrible thing he had done, and what a dreadful person he was, and that he should be punished. Big Claus became so frightened that he ran out and sprang into his wagon, whipped the horses, and hurried home, but the druggist and all the other people thought he was crazy, and therefore let him go wherever he wanted.

“You’re going to pay for this!” said Big Claus when he was out on the road. “Yes, you’re going to pay for this, Little Claus!” And when he got home he took the biggest sack he could find and went over to Little Claus and said, “You’ve fooled me again. First I killed my horses, then my old grandmother! It’s all your fault, but you’ll never fool me again.” Then he took Little Claus by the waist and put him into the sack, threw the sack on his back, and yelled, “Now I’m going to drown you!”

It was a long walk to the river, and Little Claus was not so easy to carry. The road went right by the church. The organ was playing, and people were singing so beautifully inside. Big Claus set the sack holding Little Claus right beside the church door. He thought that it might be a good idea to go in and hear a hymn before he went any further. After all, Little Claus would not be able to get out, and all the people were inside the church. So he went in.

“Oh no! Oh no!” sighed Little Claus inside the sack. He turned and twisted but it was impossible for him to loosen the rope. Just then an old, old shepherd with grey hair and a big walking stick came by. He was driving a herd of cattle in front of him, and they ran into the sack Little Claus was in and tipped it over.

“Oh poor me!” Little Claus sighed, “I’m so young, and I’m already going to heaven!”

“And poor me,” said the shepherd, “who’s so old and can’t get there yet.”

“Open the sack,” shouted Little Claus, “take my place, and you’ll soon be in heaven!”

“Yes, I would really like that,” said the shepherd and untied the sack for Little Claus, who jumped out at once.

“Will you take care of the animals?” asked the old man, and climbed into the sack. Little Claus tied it up and went on his way with the cows and oxen.

A little later Big Claus came out of the church, took the sack on his back again, and thought it had become lighter because the old shepherd wasn’t more than half as heavy as Little Claus. “How light he’s become! It must be because I listened to a hymn.” He went to the river, which was wide and deep, threw the sack with the old shepherd into the water, and shouted after him, “So there! You won’t fool me again!” because he thought it was Little Claus, of course.

Then he went home, but when he got to the crossroads, he met Little Claus, who was herding his cattle.

“What’s this!” said Big Claus, “Didn’t I drown you?”

“Sure,” said Little Claus. “You threw me in the river about half an hour ago, you know.”

“But where did you get all those nice cattle?” asked Big Claus.

“They’re sea cattle,” Little Claus said. “I’ll tell you the whole story, and thank you for drowning me. Now I’m on top of things, and I’m really rich, I can tell you. I was so afraid when I was inside the sack, and the wind was blowing around my ears when you threw me off the bridge into the cold water. I sank right to the bottom, but I didn’t even get bumped because the most lovely, softest grass grows down there. I fell on that, and right away the sack opened, and the loveliest girl, wearing white clothes and a green wreath on her wet hair, took my hand. She said, ‘Are you Little Claus? Here are a few cattle for you to start with, and a mile up the road is a whole herd that I want to give you!’ Then I saw that the river was a big highway for the people of the sea. They walked and drove down there on the bottom, all the way from the ocean up the countryside to where the river ends. It was so beautiful with flowers and the freshest grass, and the fish that swam in the water slipped by my ears just like the birds do in the air here. What splendid people they were and what fine cattle were grazing in the fields and ditches there!”

“But then why did you come back up here again right away?” asked Big Claus, “I wouldn’t have done that if it was so lovely there.”

“Well,” said Little Claus, “it was clever of me, you see. You heard that the mermaid told me that a mile up the road there was a whole herd of cattle for me. And by road she meant the river, of course, because there’s nothing else she can walk on. But I know how the river winds around, first this way, then that, a really roundabout way, you know. So it’s much shorter to come up here on land and go straight across to the river again. I save almost a half mile by doing that and will get to my herd quicker.”

“Oh, you’re a lucky man!” said Big Claus, “Do you think I would get a herd of sea cattle too if I went down to the bottom of the river?”

“Well, I would think so,” said Little Claus, “but I can’t carry you in the sack all the way to the river because you’re too heavy for me. If you’ll go there yourself and climb into the sack, I will throw you in with the greatest pleasure.”

“Oh, thank you!” Big Claus said, “but if I don’t get a herd of sea cattle when I get down there, I will beat you up for sure, you know.”

“Oh no! Don’t be so mean to me!” And they went to the river. When the cattle, who were thirsty, saw the water, they ran as fast as they could to get down to drink.

“Look how they are hurrying,” said Little Claus, “They are yearning to get down to the bottom again.”

“Well, help me first,” said Big Claus, “otherwise I’ll beat you up!” and he crawled into the big sack, which had been lying across the back of one of the oxen. “Put a stone in,” Big Claus said, “otherwise I’m afraid I won’t sink.”

“It’ll work out,” said Little Claus, but he put a large rock in the sack, tied the rope tightly, and pushed it over. Plop! Big Claus was thrown into the river and sank to the bottom right away.

“I’m afraid he won’t find the cattle,” said Little Claus, and then he drove home with the ones he had.