THE STORY OF BIG KLAUS AND LITTLE KLAUS

Edition and rights: Original English text from Project Gutenberg ebook #640, marked public domain in the USA. The literary text below is reproduced without AI rewriting.

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In a certain village there lived two people who had both the same name.
Both were called Klaus, but one owned four horses and the other only one.
In order to distinguish the one from the other, the one who had four
horses was called Big Klaus, and the one who had only one horse, Little
Klaus. Now you shall hear what befell them both, for this is a true story.

The whole week through Little Klaus had to plough for Big Klaus, and lend
him his one horse; then Big Klaus lent him his four horses, but only once
a week, and that was on Sunday. Hurrah! how loudly Little Klaus cracked
his whip over all the five horses! for they were indeed as good as his on
this one day. The sun shone brightly, and all the bells in the
church-towers were pealing; the people were dressed in their best clothes,
and were going to church, with their hymn books under their arms, to hear
the minister preach. They saw Little Klaus ploughing with the five horses;
but he was so happy that he kept on cracking his whip, and calling out
‘Gee-up, my five horses!’

‘You mustn’t say that,’ said Big Klaus. ‘Only one horse is yours.’

But as soon as someone else was going by Little Klaus forgot that he must
not say it, and called out ‘Gee-up, my five horses!’

‘Now you had better stop that,’ said Big Klaus, ‘for if you say it once
more I will give your horse such a crack on the head that it will drop
down dead on the spot!’

‘I really won’t say it again!’ said Little Klaus. But as soon as more
people passed by, and nodded him good-morning, he became so happy in
thinking how well it looked to have five horses ploughing his field that,
cracking his whip, he called out ‘Gee-up, my five horses!’

‘I’ll see to your horses!’ said Big Klaus; and, seizing an iron bar, he
struck Little Klaus’ one horse such a blow on the head that it fell down
and died on the spot.

‘Alas! Now I have no horse!’ said Little Klaus, beginning to cry. Then he
flayed the skin off his horse, dried it, and put it in a sack, which he
threw over his shoulder, and went into the town to sell it. He had a long
way to go, and had to pass through a great dark forest. A dreadful storm
came on, in which he lost his way, and before he could get on to the right
road night came on, and it was impossible to reach the town that evening.

Right in front of him was a large farm-house. The window-shutters were
closed, but the light came through the chinks. ‘I should very much like to
be allowed to spend the night there,’ thought Little Klaus; and he went
and knocked at the door. The farmer’s wife opened it, but when she heard
what he wanted she told him to go away; her husband was not at home, and
she took in no strangers.

‘Well, I must lie down outside,’ said Little Klaus; and the farmer’s wife
shut the door in his face. Close by stood a large haystack, and between it
and the house a little out-house, covered with a flat thatched roof.

‘I can lie down there,’ thought Little Klaus, looking at the roof; ‘it
will make a splendid bed, if only the stork won’t fly down and bite my
legs.’ For a live stork was standing on the roof, where it had its nest.
So Little Klaus crept up into the out-house, where he lay down, and made
himself comfortable for the night. The wooden shutters over the windows
were not shut at the top, and he could just see into the room.

There stood a large table, spread with wine and roast meat and a beautiful
fish. The farmer’s wife and the sexton sat at the table, but there was no
one else. She was filling up his glass, while he stuck his fork into the
fish which was his favourite dish.

‘If one could only get some of that!’ thought Little Klaus, stretching his
head towards the window. Ah, what delicious cakes he saw standing there!
It WAS a feast!

Then he heard someone riding along the road towards the house. It was the
farmer coming home. He was a very worthy man; but he had one great
peculiarity—namely, that he could not bear to see a sexton. If he
saw one he was made quite mad. That was why the sexton had gone to say
good-day to the farmer’s wife when he knew that her husband was not at
home, and the good woman therefore put in front of him the best food she
had. But when they heard the farmer coming they were frightened, and the
farmer’s wife begged the sexton to creep into a great empty chest. He did
so, as he knew the poor man could not bear to see a sexton. The wife
hastily hid all the beautiful food and the wine in her oven; for if her
husband had seen it, he would have been sure to ask what it all meant.

‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ groaned Little Klaus up in the shed, when he saw the
good food disappearing.

‘Is anybody up there?’ asked the farmer, catching sight of Little Klaus.
‘Why are you lying there? Come with me into the house.’

Then Little Klaus told him how he had lost his way, and begged to be
allowed to spend the night there.

‘Yes, certainly,’ said the farmer; ‘but we must first have something to
eat!’

The wife received them both very kindly, spread a long table, and gave
them a large plate of porridge. The farmer was hungry, and ate with a good
appetite; but Little Klaus could not help thinking of the delicious dishes
of fish and roast meats and cakes which he knew were in the oven. Under
the table at his feet he had laid the sack with the horse-skin in it, for,
as we know, he was going to the town to sell it. The porridge did not
taste good to him, so he trod upon his sack, and the dry skin in the sack
squeaked loudly.

‘Hush!’ said Little Klaus to his sack, at the same time treading on it
again so that it squeaked even louder than before.

‘Hallo! what have you got in your sack?’ asked the farmer.

‘Oh, it is a wizard!’ said Little Klaus. ‘He says we should not eat
porridge, for he has conjured the whole oven full of roast meats and fish
and cakes.’

‘Goodness me!’ said the farmer; and opening the oven he saw all the
delicious, tempting dishes his wife had hidden there, but which he now
believed the wizard in the sack had conjured up for them. The wife could
say nothing, but she put the food at once on the table, and they ate the
fish, the roast meat, and the cakes. Little Klaus now trod again on his
sack, so that the skin squeaked.

‘What does he say now?’ asked the farmer.

‘He says,’ replied Little Klans, ‘that he has also conjured up for us
three bottles of wine; they are standing in the corner by the oven!’

The wife had to fetch the wine which she had hidden, and the farmer drank
and grew very merry. He would very much like to have had such a wizard as
Little Klaus had in the sack.

‘Can he conjure up the Devil?’ asked the farmer. ‘I should like to see him
very much, for I feel just now in very good spirits!’

‘Yes,’ said Little Klaus; ‘my wizard can do everything that I ask. Isn’t
that true?’ he asked, treading on the sack so that it squeaked. ‘Do you
hear? He says ‘’Yes;’’ but that the Devil looks so ugly that we should not
like to see him.’

‘Oh! I’m not at all afraid. What does he look like?’

‘He will show himself in the shape of a sexton!’

‘I say!’ said the farmer, ‘he must be ugly! You must know that I can’t
bear to look at a sexton! But it doesn’t matter. I know that it is the
Devil, and I sha’n’t mind! I feel up to it now. But he must not come too
near me!’

‘I must ask my wizard,’ said Little Klaus, treading on the sack and
putting his ear to it.

‘What does he say?’

‘He says you can open the chest in the corner there, and you will see the
Devil squatting inside it; but you must hold the lid so that he shall not
escape.’

‘Will you help me to hold him?’ begged the farmer, going towards the chest
where his wife had hidden the real sexton, who was sitting inside in a
terrible fright. The farmer opened the lid a little way, and saw him
inside.

‘Ugh!’ he shrieked, springing back. ‘Yes, now I have seen him; he looked
just like our sexton. Oh, it was horrid!’

So he had to drink again, and they drank till far on into the night.

‘You MUST sell me the wizard,’ said the farmer. ‘Ask anything you like! I
will pay you down a bushelful of money on the spot.’

‘No, I really can’t,’ said Little Klans. ‘Just think how many things I can
get from this wizard!’

‘Ah! I should like to have him so much!’ said the farmer, begging very
hard.

‘Well!’ said Little Klaus at last, ‘as you have been so good as to give me
shelter to-night, I will sell him. You shall have the wizard for a bushel
of money, but I must have full measure.’

‘That you shall,’ said the farmer. ‘But you must take the chest with you.
I won’t keep it another hour in the house. Who knows that he isn’t in
there still?’

Little Klaus gave the farmer his sack with the dry skin, and got instead a
good bushelful of money. The farmer also gave him a wheelbarrow to carry
away his money and the chest. ‘Farewell,’ said Little Klaus; and away he
went with his money and the big chest, wherein sat the sexton.

On the other side of the wood was a large deep river. The water flowed so
rapidly that you could scarcely swim against the stream.

A great new bridge had been built over it, on the middle of which Little
Klaus stopped, and said aloud so that the sexton might hear:

‘Now, what am I to do with this stupid chest? It is as heavy as if it were
filled with stones! I shall only be tired, dragging it along; I will throw
it into the river. If it swims home to me, well and good; and if it
doesn’t, it’s no matter.’

Then he took the chest with one hand and lifted it up a little, as if he
were going to throw it into the water.

‘No, don’t do that!’ called out the sexton in the chest. ‘Let me get out
first!’

‘Oh, oh!’ said Little Klaus, pretending that he was afraid. ‘He is still
in there! I must throw him quickly into the water to drown him!’

‘Oh! no, no!’ cried the sexton. ‘I will give you a whole bushelful of
money if you will let me go!’

‘Ah, that’s quite another thing!’ said Little Klaus, opening the chest.
The sexton crept out very quickly, pushed the empty chest into the water
and went to his house, where he gave Little Klaus a bushel of money. One
he had had already from the farmer, and now he had his wheelbarrow full of
money.

‘Well, I have got a good price for the horse!’ said he to himself when he
shook all his money out in a heap in his room. ‘This will put Big Klaus in
a rage when he hears how rich I have become through my one horse; but I
won’t tell him just yet!’

So he sent a boy to Big Klaus to borrow a bushel measure from him.

‘Now what can he want with it?’ thought Big Klaus; and he smeared some tar
at the bottom, so that of whatever was measured a little should remain in
it. And this is just what happened; for when he got his measure back,
three new silver five-shilling pieces were sticking to it.

What does this mean?’ said Big Klaus, and he ran off at once to Little
Klaus.

‘Where did you get so much money from?’

‘Oh, that was from my horse-skin. I sold it yesterday evening.’

‘That’s certainly a good price!’ said Big Klaus; and running home in great
haste, he took an axe, knocked all his four horses on the head, skinned
them, and went into the town.

‘Skins! skins! Who will buy skins?’ he cried through the streets.

All the shoemakers and tanners came running to ask him what he wanted for
them. ‘A bushel of money for each,’ said Big Klaus.

‘Are you mad?’ they all exclaimed. ‘Do you think we have money by the
bushel?’

‘Skins! skins! Who will buy skins?’ he cried again, and to all who asked
him what they cost, he answered, ‘A bushel of money.’

‘He is making game of us,’ they said; and the shoemakers seized their yard
measures and the tanners their leathern aprons and they gave Big Klaus a
good beating. ‘Skins! skins!’ they cried mockingly; yes, we will tan YOUR
skin for you! Out of the town with him!’ they shouted; and Big Klaus had
to hurry off as quickly as he could, if he wanted to save his life.

‘Aha!’ said he when he came home, ‘Little Klaus shall pay dearly for this.
I will kill him!’

Little Klaus’ grandmother had just died. Though she had been very unkind
to him, he was very much distressed, and he took the dead woman and laid
her in his warm bed to try if he could not bring her back to life. There
she lay the whole night, while he sat in the corner and slept on a chair,
which he had often done before. And in the night as he sat there the door
opened, and Big Klaus came in with his axe. He knew quite well where
Little Klaus’s bed stood, and going up to it he struck the grandmother on
the head just where he thought Little Klaus would be. ‘There!’ said he.
‘Now you won’t get the best of me again!’ And he went home.

‘What a very wicked man!’ thought Little Klaus. ‘He was going to kill me!
It was a good thing for my grandmother that she was dead already, or else
he would have killed her!’

Then he dressed his grandmother in her Sunday clothes, borrowed a horse
from his neighbour, harnessed the cart to it, sat his grandmother on the
back seat so that she could not fall out when he drove, and away they
went. When the sun rose they were in front of a large inn. Little Klaus
got down, and went in to get something to drink. The host was very rich.
He was a very worthy but hot-tempered man.

‘Good morning!’ said he to Little Klaus. ‘You are early on the road.’

‘Yes,’ said Little Klaus. ‘I am going to the town with my grandmother. She
is sitting outside in the cart; I cannot bring her in. Will you not give
her a glass of mead? But you will have to speak loud, for she is very hard
of hearing.’

‘Oh yes, certainly I will!’ said the host; and, pouring out a large glass
of mead, he took it out to the dead grandmother, who was sitting upright
in the cart.

‘Here is a glass of mead from your son,’ said the host. But the dead woman
did not answer a word, and sat still. ‘Don’t you hear?’ cried the host as
loud as he could. ‘Here is a glass of mead from your son!’

Then he shouted the same thing again, and yet again, but she never moved
in her place; and at last he grew angry, threw the glass in her face, so
that she fell back into the cart, for she was not tied in her place.

‘Hullo!’ cried Little Klaus, running out of the door, and seizing the host
by the throat. ‘You have killed my grandmother! Look! there is a great
hole in her forehead!’

‘Oh, what a misfortune!’ cried the host, wringing his hands. ‘It all comes
from my hot temper! Dear Little Klaus! I will give you a bushel of money,
and will bury your grandmother as if she were my own; only don’t tell
about it, or I shall have my head cut off, and that would be very
uncomfortable.’

So Little Klaus got a bushel of money, and the host buried his grandmother
as if she had been his own.

Now when Little Klaus again reached home with so much money he sent his
boy to Big Klaus to borrow his bushel measure.

‘What’s this?’ said Big Klaus. ‘Didn’t I kill him? I must see to this
myself!’

So he went himself to Little Klaus with the measure.

‘Well, now, where did you get all this money?’ asked he, opening his eyes
at the heap.

‘You killed my grandmother—not me,’ said Little Klaus. ‘I sold her,
and got a bushel of money for her.’

‘That is indeed a good price!’ said Big Klaus; and, hurrying home, he took
an axe and killed his grandmother, laid her in the cart, and drove off to
the apothecary’s, and asked whether he wanted to buy a dead body.

‘Who is it, and how did you get it?’ asked the apothecary.

‘It is my grandmother,’ said Big Klaus. ‘I killed her in order to get a
bushel of money.’

‘You are mad!’ said the apothecary. ‘Don’t mention such things, or you
will lose your head!’ And he began to tell him what a dreadful thing he
had done, and what a wicked man he was, and that he ought to be punished;
till Big Klaus was so frightened that he jumped into the cart and drove
home as hard as he could. The apothecary and all the people thought he
must be mad, so they let him go.

‘You shall pay for this!’ said Big Klaus as he drove home. ‘You shall pay
for this dearly, Little Klaus!’

So as soon as he got home he took the largest sack he could find, and went
to Little Klaus and said: ‘You have fooled me again! First I killed my
horses, then my grandmother! It is all your fault; but you sha’n’t do it
again!’ And he seized Little Klaus, pushed him in the sack, threw it over
his shoulder, crying out ‘Now I am going to drown you!’

He had to go a long way before he came to the river, and Little Klaus was
not very light. The road passed by the church; the organ was sounding, and
the people were singing most beautifully.

Big Klaus put down the sack with Little Klaus in it by the church-door,
and thought that he might as well go in and hear a psalm before going on
farther. Little Klaus could not get out, and everybody was in church; so
he went in.

‘Oh, dear! oh, dear!’ groaned Little Klaus in the sack, twisting and
turning himself. But he could not undo the string.

There came by an old, old shepherd, with snow-white hair and a long staff
in his hand. He was driving a herd of cows and oxen. These pushed against
the sack so that it was overturned.

‘Alas!’ moaned Little Klans, ‘I am so young and yet I must die!’

‘And I, poor man,’ said the cattle-driver, ‘I am so old and yet I cannot
die!’

‘Open the sack,’ called out Little Klaus; ‘creep in here instead of me,
and you will die in a moment!’

‘I will gladly do that,’ said the cattle-driver; and he opened the sack,
and Little Klaus struggled out at once.

‘You will take care of the cattle, won’t you?’ asked the old man, creeping
into the sack, which Little Klaus fastened up and then went on with the
cows and oxen. Soon after Big Klaus came out of the church, and taking up
the sack on his shoulders it seemed to him as if it had become lighter;
for the old cattle-driver was not half as heavy as Little Klaus.

‘How easy he is to carry now! That must be because I heard part of the
service.’

So he went to the river, which was deep and broad, threw in the sack with
the old driver, and called after it, for he thought Little Klaus was
inside:

‘Down you go! You won’t mock me any more now!’

Then he went home; but when he came to the cross-roads, there he met
Little Klaus, who was driving his cattle.

‘What’s this?’ said Big Klaus. ‘Haven’t I drowned you?’

‘Yes,’ replied Little Klaus; ‘you threw me into the river a good half-hour
ago!’

‘But how did you get those splendid cattle?’ asked Big Klaus.

‘They are sea-cattle!’ said Little Klaus. ‘I will tell you the whole
story, and I thank you for having drowned me, because now I am on dry land
and really rich! How frightened I was when I was in the sack! How the wind
whistled in my ears as you threw me from the bridge into the cold water! I
sank at once to the bottom; but I did not hurt myself for underneath was
growing the most beautiful soft grass. I fell on this, and immediately the
sack opened; the loveliest maiden in snow-white garments, with a green
garland round her wet hair, took me by the hand, and said! ‘’Are you
Little Klaus? Here are some cattle for you to begin with, and a mile
farther down the road there is another herd, which I will give you as a
present!’’ Now I saw that the river was a great high-road for the
sea-people. Along it they travel underneath from the sea to the land till
the river ends. It was so beautiful, full of flowers and fresh grass; the
fishes which were swimming in the water shot past my ears as the birds do
here in the air. What lovely people there were, and what fine cattle were
grazing in the ditches and dykes!’

‘But why did you come up to us again?’ asked Big Klaus. ‘I should not have
done so, if it is so beautiful down below!’

‘Oh!’ said Little Klaus, ‘that was just so politic of me. You heard what I
told you, that the sea-maiden said to me a mile farther along the road—and
by the road she meant the river, for she can go by no other way—there
was another herd of cattle waiting for me. But I know what windings the
river makes, now here, now there, so that it is a long way round.
Therefore it makes it much shorter if one comes on the land and drives
across the field to the river. Thus I have spared myself quite half a
mile, and have come much quicker to my sea-cattle!’

‘Oh, you’re a lucky fellow!’ said Big Klaus. ‘Do you think I should also
get some cattle if I went to the bottom of the river?’

‘Oh, yes! I think so,’ said Little Klaus. ‘But I can’t carry you in a sack
to the river; you are too heavy for me! If you like to go there yourself
and then creep into the sack, I will throw you in with the greatest of
pleasure.’

‘Thank you,’ said Big Klaus; ‘but if I don’t get any sea-cattle when I
come there, you will have a good hiding, mind!’

‘Oh, no! Don’t be so hard on me!’ Then they went to the river. When the
cattle, which were thirsty, caught sight of the water, they ran as quickly
as they could to drink.

‘Look how they are running!’ said Little Klaus. ‘They want to go to the
bottom again!’

‘Yes; but help me first,’ said Big Klaus, ‘or else you shall have a
beating!’

And so he crept into the large sack, which was lying on the back of one of
the oxen. ‘Put a stone in, for I am afraid I may not reach the bottom,’
said Big Klaus.

‘It goes all right!’ said Little Klaus; but still he laid a big stone in
the sack, fastened it up tight, and then pushed it in. Plump! there was
Big Klaus in the water, and he sank like lead to the bottom.

‘I doubt if he will find any cattle!’ said Little Klaus as he drove his
own home.