But Caspar never bothered his head about that; off he went the next day as grand as you please. Up he marched to the willow-tree, but never a soul did he find there; for why, there was nobody.
Rap! tap! tap! He knocked upon the tree as civil as a beggar at the kitchen door, but nobody said, “Come in!”
“Look,” says he, “we will have no dilly-dallying; I want my money and I will have it,” and he fetched a kick at the tree that made the bark fly. But he might as well have kicked my grandfather’s bedpost for all the good he had of it. “Oh, very well!” says he, and off he marched and brought the axe that stood back of the stable door.
Hui! how the chips flew! for Caspar was bound to get to the bottom of the business. So by and by the tree lay on the ground, and there was the bag of gold and silver money that the wicked robber had hidden. “So!” says Caspar, “better late than never!” and off he marched with it.
By and by whom should he meet but John and James. Bless me, how they stared! And did Caspar get all of that money for one little black hen?
Oh, yes; that he had.
And where did he get it?
Oh! the little old man in the willow-tree had paid it to him.
So, good! that was a fine thing, and it should be share and share alike among brothers; that was what John and James said, and Caspar did not say “No;” so down they all sat on the grass and began counting it out.
“This is mine,” said John.