Presently the master of black-arts went to the pot of broth, and, taking off the lid, began smelling of it.  But no sooner had he sniffed a smell of the steam than he began thumping his head with his knuckles, and tearing his hair, and stamping his feet. “Somebody’s had a finger in my broth!!!” he roared.  For the master knew at once that all the magic had been taken out of it by the touch of Claus’s finger.

As for poor Claus, he was so frightened that he fell upon his knees, and began begging:  “Oh! dear master—­” But he got no further than this, for the master bawled at him,

“You have taken the best,
 You may have the rest.”

And so saying, he threw pot and broth and all at Claus, so that if he hadn’t ducked his head he might have been scalded to death.  Then Claus ran out into the street, for he saw that there was no place for him to stay in that house.

Now in the street there was a cock and a hen, scratching and clucking together in the dust, and Claus understood every word that they said to each other, so he stopped and listened to them.

This is what they said: 

The cock said to the hen, “Yonder goes our new serving-man.”

And the hen said to the cock, “Yes, yonder he goes.”

And the cock said to the hen, “He is leaving the best behind him.”

[Illustration:  The master is angry]

And the hen said to the cock, “What is it that he is leaving?”

And the cock said to the hen, “He is leaving behind him the witch-hazel staff that he brought with him.”

And the hen said to the cock, “Yes, that is so.  He would be a fool to leave that behind, yet he is not the first one to think that peas are pebbles.”

As for Claus, you can guess how he opened his eyes, for he saw how the land lay, and that he had other ears than he had before.

“Hui!” said he, “that is good!  I have bought more for my penny than I had in my bargain.”

As for the hazel staff, he was not going to leave that behind, you may be sure.  So he sneaked about the place till he laid hand on it again; then he stepped away, right foot foremost, for he did not know what the master of black-arts might do to him if he should catch him.

Well, after he had left the town, he went along, tramp! tramp! tramp! until, by-and-by, he grew tired and sat down beneath an oak-tree to rest himself.

[Illustration:  Claus listens to the talk of the two ravens]

Now, as he sat there, looking up through the leaves, thinking of nothing at all, two ravens came flying and lit in the tree above him.  After a while the ravens began talking together, and this was what they said: 

The one raven said, “Yonder is poor Claus sitting below us.”

And the other raven said, “Poor Claus, did you say, brother?  Do you not see the witch-hazel lying on the ground beside him?”