gold.”
“No, indeed, I cannot,” said Little Claus; “only think how much profit I
could make out of this conjuror.”
“But I should like to have him,” said the fanner, still continuing his
entreaties.
“Well,” said Little Claus at length, “you have been so good as to give me
a night’s lodging, I will not refuse you; you shall have the conjuror for a
bushel of money, but I will have quite full measure.”
“So you shall,” said the farmer; “but you must take away the chest as
well. I would not have it in the house another hour; there is no knowing if
he may not be still there.”
So Little Claus gave the farmer the sack containing the dried horse’s skin,
and received in exchange a bushel of money-full measure. The farmer also
gave him a wheelbarrow on which to carry away the chest and the gold.
“Farewell,” said Little Claus, as he went off with his money and the great
chest, in which the sexton lay still concealed. On one side of the forest was
a broad, deep river, the water flowed so rapidly that very few were able to
swim against the stream. A new bridge had lately been built across it, and in
the middle of this bridge Little Claus stopped, and said, loud enough to be
heard by the sexton, “Now what shall I do with this stupid chest; it is as
heavy as if it were full of stones: I shall be tired if I roll it any farther, so I
may as well throw it in the river; if it swims after me to my house, well and
good, and if not, it will not much matter.”
So he seized the chest in his hand and lifted it up a little, as if he were
going to throw it into the water.
“No, leave it alone,” cried the sexton from within the chest; “let me out
first.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Little Claus, pretending to be frightened, “he is in there
still, is he? I must throw him into the river, that he may be drowned.”
