Little Claus and Big Claus小克勞斯和大克勞斯
“I have been well paid for my horse，” said he to himself when he reached home， entered his own room， and emptied all his money into a heap on the floor. “How vexed GREat Claus will be when he finds out how rich I have become all through my one horse； but I shall not tell him exactly how it all happened.” Then he sent a boy to Great Claus to borrow a bushel measure.
“What can he want it for？” thought GREat Claus； so he smeared the bottom of the measure with tar， that some of whatever was put into it might stick there and remain. And so it happened； for when the measure returned， three new silver florins were sticking to it.
“What does this mean？” said GREat Claus； so he ran off directly to Little Claus， and asked， “Where did you get so much money？”
“Oh， for my horse's skin， I sold it yesterday.”
“It was certainly well paid for then，” said GREat Claus； and he ran home to his house， seized a hatchet， and knocked all his four horses on the head， flayed off their skins， and took them to the town to sell. “Skins， skins， who'll buy skins？” he cried， as he went through the streets. All the shoemakers and tanners came running， and asked how much he wanted for them.
“A bushel of money， for each，” replied GREat Claus.
“Are you mad？” they all cried； “do you think we have money to spend by the bushel？”
“Skins， skins，” he cried again， “who'll buy skins？” but to all who inquired the price， his answer was， “a bushel of money.”
“He is making fools of us，” said they all； then the shoemakers took their straps， and the tanners their leather aprons， and began to beat GREat Claus.
“Skins， skins！” they cried， mocking him； “yes， we'll mark your skin for you， till it is black and blue.”
“Out of the town with him，” said they. And GREat Claus was obliged to run as fast as he could， he had never before been so thoroughly beaten.
“Ah，” said he， as he came to his house； “Little Claus shall pay me for this； I will beat him to death.”
Meanwhile the old grandmother of Little Claus died. She had been cross， unkind， and really spiteful to him； but he was very sorry， and took the dead woman and laid her in his warm bed to see if he could bring her to life again. There he determined that she should lie the whole night， while he seated himself in a chair in a corner of the room as he had often done before. During the night， as he sat there， the door opened， and in came GREat Claus with a hatchet. He knew well where Little Claus's bed stood； so he went right up to it， and struck the old grandmother on the head. thinking it must be Little Claus.
“there，” cried he， “now you cannot make a fool of me again；” and then he went home.
“That is a very wicked man，” thought Little Claus； “he meant to kill me. It is a good thing for my old grandmother that she was already dead， or he would have taken her life.” Then he dressed his old grandmother in her best clothes， borrowed a horse of his neighbor， and harnessed it to a cart. Then he placed the old woman on the back seat， so that she might not fall out as he drove， and rode away through the wood. By sunrise they reached a large inn， where Little Claus stopped and went to get something to eat. The landlord was a rich man， and a good man too； but as passionate as if he had been made of pepper and snuff.
“Good morning，” said he to Little Claus； “you are come betimes to-day.”
“Yes，” said Little Claus； “I am going to the town with my old grandmother； she is sitting at the back of the wagon， but I cannot bring her into the room. Will you take her a glass of mead？ but you must speak very loud， for she cannot hear well.”
“Yes， certainly I will，” replied the landlord； and， pouring out a glass of mead， he carried it out to the dead grandmother， who sat upright in the cart. “Here is a glass of mead from your grandson，” said the landlord. The dead woman did not answer a word， but sat quite still. “Do you not hear？” cried the landlord as loud as he could； “here is a glass of mead from your grandson.”
Again and again he bawled it out， but as she did not stir he flew into a passion， and threw the glass of mead in her face； it struck her on the nose， and she fell backwards out of the cart， for she was only seated there， not tied in.
“Hallo！” cried Little Claus， rushing out of the door， and seizing hold of the landlord by the throat； “you have killed my grandmother； see， here is a GREat hole in her forehead.”
“Oh， how unfortunate，” said the landlord， wringing his hands. “This all comes of my fiery temper. Dear Little Claus， I will give you a bushel of money； I will bury your grandmother as if she were my own； only keep silent， or else they will cut off my head， and that would be disaGREeable.”
So it happened that Little Claus received another bushel of money， and the landlord buried his old grandmother as if she had been his own. When Little Claus reached home again， he immediately sent a boy to GREat Claus， requesting him to lend him a bushel measure. “How is this？” thought Great Claus； “did I not kill him？ I must go and see for myself.” So he went to Little Claus， and took the bushel measure with him. “How did you get all this money？” asked Great Claus， staring with wide open eyes at his neighbor's treasures.
“You killed my grandmother instead of me，” said Little Claus； “so I have sold her for a bushel of money.”
“That is a good price at all events，” said GREat Claus. So he went home， took a hatchet， and killed his old grandmother with one blow. Then he placed her on a cart， and drove into the town to the apothecary， and asked him if he would buy a dead body.
“Whose is it， and where did you get it？” asked the apothecary.
“It is my grandmother，” he replied； “I killed her with a blow， that I might get a bushel of money for her.”
“Heaven preserve us！” cried the apothecary， “you are out of your mind. Don't say such things， or you will lose your head.” And then he talked to him seriously about the wicked deed he had done， and told him that such a wicked man would surely be punished. GREat Claus got so frightened that he rushed out of the surgery， jumped into the cart， whipped up his horses， and drove home quickly. The apothecary and all the people thought him mad， and let him drive where he liked.
“You shall pay for this，” said GREat Claus， as soon as he got into the highroad， “that you shall， Little Claus.” So as soon as he reached home he took the largest sack he could find and went over to Little Claus. “You have played me another trick，” said he. “First， I killed all my horses， and then my old grandmother， and it is all your fault； but you shall not make a fool of me any more.” So he laid hold of Little Claus round the body， and pushed him into the sack， which he took on his shoulders， saying， “Now I'm going to drown you in the river.
He had a long way to go before he reached the river， and Little Claus was not a very light weight to carry. The road led by the church， and as they passed he could hear the organ playing and the people singing beautifully. GREat Claus put down the sack close to the church-door， and thought he might as well go in and hear a psalm before he went any farther. Little Claus could not possibly get out of the sack， and all the people were in church； so in he went.
“Oh dear， oh dear，” sighed Little Claus in the sack， as he turned and twisted about； but he found he could not loosen the string with which it was tied. Presently an old cattle driver， with snowy hair， passed by， carrying a large staff in his hand， with which he drove a large herd of cows and oxen before him. They stumbled against the sack in which lay Little Claus， and turned it over. “Oh dear，” sighed Little Claus， “I am very young， yet I am soon going to heaven.”
“And I， poor fellow，” said the drover， “I who am so old already， cannot get there.”
“Open the sack，” cried Little Claus； “creep into it instead of me， and you will soon be there.”
“With all my heart，” replied the drover， opening the sack， from which sprung Little Claus as quickly as possible. “Will you take care of my cattle？” said the old man， as he crept into the bag.
“Yes，” said Little Claus， and he tied up the sack， and then walked off with all the cows and oxen.
When GREat Claus came out of church， he took up the sack， and placed it on his shoulders. It appeared to have become lighter， for the old drover was not half so heavy as Little Claus.
“How light he seems now，” said he. “Ah， it is because I have been to a church.” So he walked on to the river， which was deep and broad， and threw the sack containing the old drover into the water， believing it to be Little Claus. “There you may lie！” he exclaimed； “you will play me no more tricks now.” Then he turned to go home， but when he came to a place where two roads crossed， there was Little Claus driving the cattle. “How is this？” said GREat Claus. “Did I not drown you just now？”
“Yes，” said Little Claus； “you threw me into the river about half an hour ago.”
“But wherever did you get all these fine beasts？” asked GREat Claus.
“these beasts are sea-cattle，” replied Little Claus. “I'll tell you the whole story， and thank you for drowning me； I am above you now， I am really very rich. I was frightened， to be sure， while I lay tied up in the sack， and the wind whistled in my ears when you threw me into the river from the bridge， and I sank to the bottom immediately； but I did not hurt myself， for I fell upon beautifully soft grass which grows down there； and in a moment， the sack opened， and the sweetest little maiden came towards me. She had snow-white robes， and a wreath of GREen leaves on her wet hair. She took me by the hand， and said， 'So you are come， Little Claus， and here are some cattle for you to begin with. About a mile farther on the road， there is another herd for you.' Then I saw that the river formed a great highway for the people who live in the sea. They were walking and driving here and there from the sea to the land at the， spot where the river terminates. The bed of the river was covered with the loveliest flowers and sweet fresh grass. The fish swam past me as rapidly as the birds do here in the air. How handsome all the people were， and what fine cattle were grazing on the hills and in the valleys！”
“But why did you come up again，” said GREat Claus， “if it was all so beautiful down there？ I should not have done so？”
“Well，” said Little Claus， “it was good policy on my part； you heard me say just now that I was told by the sea-maiden to go a mile farther on the road， and I should find a whole herd of cattle. By the road she meant the river， for she could not travel any other way； but I knew the winding of the river， and how it bends， sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left， and it seemed a long way， so I chose a shorter one； and， by coming up to the land， and then driving across the fields back again to the river， I shall save half a mile， and get all my cattle more quickly.”
“What a lucky fellow you are！” exclaimed GREat Claus. “Do you think I should get any sea-cattle if I went down to the bottom of the river？”
“Yes， I think so，” said Little Claus； “but I cannot carry you there in a sack， you are too heavy. However if you will go there first， and then creep into a sack， I will throw you in with the GREatest pleasure.”
“Thank you，” said GREat Claus； “but remember， if I do not get any sea-cattle down there I shall come up again and give you a good thrashing.”
“No， now， don't be too fierce about it！” said Little Claus， as they walked on towards the river. When they approached it， the cattle， who were very thirsty， saw the stream， and ran down to drink.
“See what a hurry they are in，” said Little Claus， “they are longing to get down again，”
“Come， help me， make haste，” said GREat Claus； “or you'll get beaten.” So he crept into a large sack， which had been lying across the back of one of the oxen.
“Put in a stone，” said GREat Claus， “or I may not sink.”
“Oh， there's not much fear of that，” he replied； still he put a large stone into the bag， and then tied it tightly， and gave it a push.
“Plump！” In went GREat Claus， and immediately sank to the bottom of the river.
“I'm afraid he will not find any cattle，” said Little Claus， and then he drove his own beasts homewards.
