Little Claus and Big Claus

								
In a village there once lived two men who had the same name.
They were both called Claus. One of them had four horses, but the
other had only one; so to distinguish them, people called the owner of
the four horses, "Great Claus," and he who had only one, "Little
Claus." Now we shall hear what happened to them, for this is a true
story.

Through the whole week, Little Claus was obliged to plough for
Great Claus, and lend him his one horse; and once a week, on a Sunday,
Great Claus lent him all his four horses. Then how Little Claus
would smack his whip over all five horses, they were as good as his
own on that one day. The sun shone brightly, and the church bells were
ringing merrily as the people passed by, dressed in their best
clothes, with their prayer-books under their arms. They were going
to hear the clergyman preach. They looked at Little Claus ploughing
with his five horses, and he was so proud that he smacked his whip,
and said, "Gee-up, my five horses."

"You must not say that," said Big Claus; "for only one of them
belongs to you." But Little Claus soon forgot what he ought to say,
and when any one passed he would call out, "Gee-up, my five horses!"

"Now I must beg you not to say that again," said Big Claus; "for
if you do, I shall hit your horse on the head, so that he will drop
dead on the spot, and there will be an end of him."

"I promise you I will not say it any more," said the other; but as
soon as people came by, nodding to him, and wishing him "Good day," he
became so pleased, and thought how grand it looked to have five horses
ploughing in his field, that he cried out again, "Gee-up, all my
horses!"

"I'll gee-up your horses for you," said Big Claus; and seizing a
hammer, he struck the one horse of Little Claus on the head, and he
fell dead instantly.

"Oh, now I have no horse at all," said Little Claus, weeping. But
after a while he took off the dead horse's skin, and hung the hide
to dry in the wind. Then he put the dry skin into a bag, and,
placing it over his shoulder, went out into the next town to sell
the horse's skin. He had a very long way to go, and had to pass
through a dark, gloomy forest. Presently a storm arose, and he lost
his way, and before he discovered the right path, evening came on, and
it was still a long way to the town, and too far to return home before
night. Near the road stood a large farmhouse. The shutters outside the
windows were closed, but lights shone through the crevices at the top.
"I might get permission to stay here for the night," thought Little
Claus; so he went up to the door and knocked. The farmer's wife opened
the door; but when she heard what he wanted, she told him to go
away, as her husband would not allow her to admit strangers. "Then I
shall be obliged to lie out here," said Little Claus to himself, as
the farmer's wife shut the door in his face. Near to the farmhouse
stood a large haystack, and between it and the house was a small shed,
with a thatched roof. "I can lie up there," said Little Claus, as he
saw the roof; "it will make a famous bed, but I hope the stork will
not fly down and bite my legs;" for on it stood a living stork,
whose nest was in the roof. So Little Claus climbed to the roof of the
shed, and while he turned himself to get comfortable, he discovered
that the wooden shutters, which were closed, did not reach to the tops
of the windows of the farmhouse, so that he could see into a room,
in which a large table was laid out with wine, roast meat, and a
splendid fish. The farmer's wife and the sexton were sitting at the
table together; and she filled his glass, and helped him plenteously
to fish, which appeared to be his favorite dish. "If I could only
get some, too," thought Little Claus; and then, as he stretched his
neck towards the window he spied a large, beautiful pie,--indeed
they had a glorious feast before them.

At this moment he heard some one riding down the road, towards the
farmhouse. It was the farmer returning home. He was a good man, but
still he had a very strange prejudice,--he could not bear the sight of
a sexton. If one appeared before him, he would put himself in a
terrible rage. In consequence of this dislike, the sexton had gone
to visit the farmer's wife during her husband's absence from home, and
the good woman had placed before him the best she had in the house
to eat. When she heard the farmer coming she was frightened, and
begged the sexton to hide himself in a large empty chest that stood in
the room. He did so, for he knew her husband could not endure the
sight of a sexton. The woman then quickly put away the wine, and hid
all the rest of the nice things in the oven; for if her husband had
seen them he would have asked what they were brought out for.

"Oh, dear," sighed Little Claus from the top of the shed, as he
saw all the good things disappear.

"Is any one up there?" asked the farmer, looking up and
discovering Little Claus. "Why are you lying up there? Come down,
and come into the house with me." So Little Claus came down and told
the farmer how he had lost his way and begged for a night's lodging.

"All right," said the farmer; "but we must have something to eat
first."

The woman received them both very kindly, laid the cloth on a
large table, and placed before them a dish of porridge. The farmer was
very hungry, and ate his porridge with a good appetite, but Little
Claus could not help thinking of the nice roast meat, fish and pies,
which he knew were in the oven. Under the table, at his feet, lay
the sack containing the horse's skin, which he intended to sell at the
next town. Now Little Claus did not relish the porridge at all, so
he trod with his foot on the sack under the table, and the dry skin
squeaked quite loud. "Hush!" said Little Claus to his sack, at the
same time treading upon it again, till it squeaked louder than before.

"Hallo! what have you got in your sack!" asked the farmer.

"Oh, it is a conjuror," said Little Claus; "and he says we need
not eat porridge, for he has conjured the oven full of roast meat,

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