There he saw all the good food that his wife had made for the deacon; and she—not daring to tell him the truth—silently served the roast, the fish, and the cake.

After he had taken a few mouthfuls, Little Claus stepped on the sack again so that the hide squeaked.

“What is the wizard saying now?” asked the farmer eagerly.

“He says that he has conjured three bottles of wine for us and that you will find them in the corner next to the oven.”

The farmer’s poor wife brought out the wine, which she had hidden, and poured it for Little Claus and her husband, who made so many toasts to each other’s health that they were soon very merry. Then the farmer began to think about Little Claus’s sack and what a wonderful thing it must be to have a wizard.

“Do you think he could conjure the Devil?” the farmer asked. “For now that I have the courage I wouldn’t mind seeing what he looks like.”

“Why not?” replied Little Claus. “My wizard will do anything I tell him to.… Won’t you?” he added, stepping on the sack so that it squeaked. Turning to the farmer, Little Claus smiled. “Can’t you hear that he said yes? But the Devil has such an ugly face that he’s not worth looking at.”

“I’m not afraid,” said the farmer, and hiccupped. “How terrible can he look?”

“He looks just like a deacon!”

“Pooh!” returned the farmer. “That’s worse than I thought! I must confess that I cannot stand the sight of a deacon; but now that I know that it is only the Devil I will be looking at, maybe I can bear it. But don’t let him come too near me and let’s get it over with before I lose my courage.”

“I’ll tell my wizard,” said Little Claus and stepped on the hide; then he cocked his head as if he were listening to someone.

“What is he saying?” asked the farmer, who could only hear the hide squeak.

“He says that if we go over to the chest in the corner and open it up we shall see the Devil sitting inside. But we must be careful when we lift the lid, not to lift it too high, so the Devil can escape.”

“Then you must hold onto the lid while I lift it,” whispered the farmer to Little Claus as he tiptoed to the chest in which the deacon was hiding. This poor fellow had heard every word that Little Claus and the farmer had said and was quaking with fear.

The farmer opened the chest no more than an inch or two and peeped inside. “Ah!” he screamed and jumped up, letting the lid fall back into place. “I saw him! He looked exactly like our deacon! It was a dreadful sight!”

After such an experience you need a drink; and Little Claus and the farmer had many, for they drank late into the night.

“You must sell me that wizard,” the farmer finally said. “Ask whatever you want for it.… I’ll give you a bushel basket full of money, if that’s what you’d like.”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” replied Little Claus. “You have seen for yourself all the marvelous things that wizard can do.”

“But I want it with all my heart,” begged the farmer; and he kept on pleading with Little Claus until at last he agreed.

“I cannot forget that you gave me a night’s lodging,” Little Claus said. “Take my wizard, but remember to fill the bushel basket to the very top.”

“I shall! I shall!” exclaimed the farmer. “But you must take the chest along too. I won’t have it in my house. Who knows but that the Devil isn’t still inside it?”

And that’s how it happened that Little Claus gave the farmer a sack with a horse hide in it and in return was given not only a bushel full of money and a chest but a wheelbarrow to carry them away.

“Good-by!” called Little Claus, and off he went.

On the other side of the forest there was a deep river with a current that flowed so swiftly that you could not swim against it. But the river had to be crossed and so a bridge had been built. When Little Claus reached the middle of that bridge, he said very loudly—so the deacon, who was still inside the chest, could hear him—“What’s the point of dragging this chest any farther? It’s so heavy, you’d think it was filled with stones. I’m all worn out. I know what I’ll do, I’ll dump the chest into the stream and if the current carries it home to me, all well and good; and if not, it doesn’t matter.” Then he took hold of the chest and pushed it, as if he were about to lift it out of the wheelbarrow and let it fall into the water.

“No, stop it!” cried the deacon from inside the chest. “Let me out! Please, let me out!”

“Oh!” shouted Little Claus as if he were frightened. “The Devil is still in there. I’d better throw the chest right into the river and drown him.”

“No! No!” screamed the deacon. “I’ll give you a bushel of money if you’ll let me out!”

“That’s a different tune,” said Little Claus, and opened the chest. The deacon climbed out and shoved the chest into the river. Together Little Claus and the deacon went to the deacon’s home, where he gave Little Claus the bushel of coins that he had promised him. Now Little Claus had a whole wheelbarrow full of money.

“That wasn’t bad payment for my old horse,” he said to himself as he dumped all the coins out on the floor of his own living room.