“Only one of the horses is yours.”

But Little Claus forgot very quickly what Big Claus had said, and the next time someone went by and nodded kindly in his direction, he shouted, “Gee up, all my horses!”

Big Claus turned around and shouted! “I beg you for the last time not to call all those horses yours because if you do it once more I’ll take the mallet that I use to drive in the stake for tethering my four horses and hit your one horse so hard that it will drop dead on the spot.”

“I promise never to say it again,” said Little Claus meekly. But the words were hardly out of his mouth when still another group of churchgoers stopped to watch him plow. They smiled and said good morning in a very friendly way. “What a fine figure I must cut, driving five horses,” he thought; and without realizing what he was doing, he cracked the whip and cried, “Gee up, all my horses!”

“I’ll give your horse gee up!” screamed Big Claus in a rage; and he took his tethering mallet and hit Little Claus’s only horse so hard on the forehead that it fell down quite dead.

“Poor me!” cried Little Claus. “Now I don’t have any horse at all!” And he sat down and wept. But as there was nothing else to do he flayed the horse and hung the hide up to dry. When the wind had done its work, Little Claus put the hide in a sack and set off for town to sell it in the market place.

It was a long way and the road led through a forest. The weather turned bad and among the dark shadows Little Claus lost his way. He turned first in one direction and then in another. Finally he did find his way again; but by then it was late afternoon and too late to reach town before nightfall.

Not far from the road he saw a farmhouse. The shutters were closed but above them there shone tiny streams of light. “There I may ask for shelter for the night,” Little Claus thought, and made his way to the front door and knocked.

The farmer’s wife answered the door, but when she heard what he wanted she shook her head. “You’ll have to go away,” she ordered. “My husband isn’t home and I cannot allow a stranger to come in.”

“Then I’ll have to sleep outside,” said Little Claus. The farmer’s wife shut the door without another word; and Little Claus looked about him. Near the house was a haystack, and between that and the dwelling there was a shed with a flat thatched roof.

“I’ll stretch out on that,” Little Claus mumbled, looking at the roof. “It will make a fine bed and I doubt that the stork will fly down and bite me.” The latter was said in jest because there was a stork’s nest on the roof of the farmhouse.

Little Claus climbed up on the roof of the shack; and while he was twisting and turning to make himself comfortable, he realized that from where he lay he could see right into the kitchen of the farmhouse because, at the top, the shutters did not close tightly.

A fine white linen cloth covered the large table and on it were not only a roast and wine but a platter of fish as well. On one side of the table sat the farmer’s wife and on the other the deacon; and while she filled his glass with wine, he filled himself with fish because that was his favorite food.

“If only I had been invited too!” Little Claus sighed, and pushed himself as near to the window as he could without touching the shutters. There was a cake on the table too; this was better than a party, it was a feast!

He heard someone galloping on the road; he turned and saw the rider: it was the farmer coming home.

Now this farmer was known for two things: one, that he was a good fellow, and the other, that he suffered from a strange disease; he couldn’t bear the sight of a deacon. One glance and he went into a rage. And that, of course, was the reason why the deacon had come visiting on a day when the farmer wasn’t at home; and that too was why the farmer’s wife had made the most delicious food she could for her guest.

When they heard the farmer riding up to the door of his house, both the farmer’s wife and the deacon were terrified; and she told him to climb into a large empty chest that stood in the corner. The poor man, trembling with fear, obeyed her. Then the woman hid all the food and the wine in the oven, for she knew that if her husband saw all the delicacies he was certain to ask her why she had made them.

“Ow!” groaned Little Claus when he saw the last of the food disappear into the bread oven.

“Is there someone up there?” the farmer called, and when he saw Little Claus lying on the roof of the shed he told him to come down. “What were you doing up there?”

Little Claus explained how he had lost his way in the forest and asked the farmer to be allowed to spend the night in his house.

“You are most welcome,” said the farmer, who was the kindest of men, as long as there was no deacon in sight. “But first let’s have a bite to eat.”

The farmer’s wife greeted them both very politely, set the table, and served them a large bowl of porridge. The farmer, who was very hungry, ate with relish; but Little Claus kept thinking of all the delicious food in the oven and couldn’t swallow a spoonful.

At his feet under the table lay the sack with the horse hide in it. He stepped on the sack and the horse hide squeaked. “Shhhhhhhh!” whispered Little Claus to the sack; but at the same time he pressed his foot down on it even harder and it squeaked even louder.

“What have you got in the bag?” asked the farmer.

“Oh, it’s only a wizard,” Little Claus replied. “He was telling me that there’s no reason for us to eat porridge when he has just conjured both fish and meat for us, and even a cake. Look in the oven.”

“What!” exclaimed the farmer; and he ran to the oven and opened it.