[Illustration:  Claus and the Master of Black-Arts]

“Oh, I got it over yonder,” said Claus, pointing with his thumb.

But could he find the place again?

Well, Claus did not know how about that; perhaps he could, and perhaps he could not.

But suppose that Claus had a thaler in his hand, then could he find the place again?

Oh yes; in that case Claus was almost sure that he could find the place again.

So good.  Then here was a bottle of yellow water.  If Claus would take the bottle of yellow water, and pour it over the stump from which he had cut his staff, there would come seven green snakes out of a hole at the foot of the hazel-bush.  After these seven snakes, there would come a white snake, with a golden crown on its head, from out of the same hole.  Now if Claus would catch that white snake in the empty bottle, and bring it to the master of black-arts, he should have not one thaler, but two—­that was what the master said.

Oh yes, Claus could do that; that was no such hard thing.  So he took the bottle of yellow water and off he went.

By-and-by he came to the place where he had cut his hazel-twig.  There he did as the master of black-arts had told him; he poured the yellow water over the stump of hazel from which he had cut his staff.  Then everything happened just as the other had said:  first there came seven green snakes out of the hole at the foot of the hazel-bush, and after they had all gone, there came a white snake, with a little golden crown on its head, and with its body gleaming like real silver.  Then Claus caught the white snake, and put it into the bottle and corked it up tightly.  After he had done this he went back to the master of black-arts again.

Now this white snake was what the folk call a tomtsnake in that land.  Whoever eats of a broth made of it can understand the language of all the birds of the air and all the beasts of the field; so nobody need wonder that the master was as glad as glad could be to have his white snake safe and sound.

[Illustration:  Claus and the White Snake]

He bade Claus build a fire of dry wood, and as soon as there was a good blaze he set a pot of water upon it to boil.  When the water in the pot began to boil, he chopped up the white snake into little pieces and threw them into it.  So the snake boiled and boiled and boiled, and Claus stared with wonder as though he would never shut his eyes again.

Now it happened that just about the time that the broth was cooked, the master was called out of the room for this or for that.  No sooner was his back turned than Claus began to wonder what the broth was like.  “I will just have a little taste,” said he to himself; “surely it can do no harm to the rest of the soup.”  So he stuck his finger first into the broth and then into his mouth; but what the broth tasted like he never could tell, for just then the master came in again, and Claus was so frightened at what he had done that he had no wits to think of the taste of anything.