"Now hammer out the iron till it is as slender as a finger, while I shake off my sleepiness," said Claus, yawning.
Sten went back to the smithy, but now the iron had become black. He worked the bellows and made it red again. Then he took it up with the tongs and carried it out to the anvil, but before he had seized the sledge-hammer, it was once more black. This process was repeated till Sten became tired. Then he returned to Claus, who was snoring loud, and had drawn his leather apron over his head in order not to be disturbed by the daylight.
Claus became impatient. "Well, you stupid, can't you take the hammer in one hand and the tongs in the other?"
Sten replied he could not.
"Then you can go for a jug of beer."
Sten felt ashamed of going into the street with a tin can, but as Claus began to search in a tool-chest for a hammer, he hurried out.
The morning was fine; the sun shone on the gable-roofs of the houses, and women and girls were proceeding to market. When Sten came out of the public-house with the beer, and was about to cross the street, he suddenly stopped, as though riveted, before someone who gazed at him in astonishment and sorrow. He wished to turn round, but the crowd prevented him; he wanted to raise his cap, but the beer-jug required both his black hands to hold it.
The girl went on her way, and Sten hastened, weeping, back to the smithy.
"What are you whimpering for?" said Claus, who had shaken off his sleep and come out into the sunshine, where he drank his morning draught.
Sten did not answer. Claus took out a plank which he laid on the wooden log against the wall of the house so that he had a support for his back.