That evening, after a hearty dinner, the children called for the story of Der Stock im Eisen. And so Herr MÜller began:

"Many hundreds of years ago, in the old square known as the Horsemarket, lived Vienna's most skilful master-locksmith, Herr Erhanrd Marbacher. Next door to him, stood a baker-shop owned by the Widow Mux. The widow and Herr Marbacher were good neighbors, and were fond of chatting together outside the doors of their homes, as the evening came on; Herr Marbacher smoking his long, quaintly-painted pipe, and the Widow Mux relating the sprightly anecdotes of the day.

"But, one evening, Herr Marbacher found the widow in great distress; as she usually wore a merry smile upon her jolly face this change in temperament greatly affected the spirits of the locksmith, and he demanded the cause of her unhappiness. With tears in her eyes, the widow confided to her neighbor the dreadful fact that her younger son, Martin, a worthless, idle fellow, had refused to do any work about the shop, and had even used harsh words.

"'Sometimes it happens,' suggested the master-locksmith, 'that a lad does not take to his forced employment; it may be that Martin is not cut out for a baker; let me have a hand with him; perhaps he will make a first-rate locksmith.'

"'A locksmith!' exclaimed the widow in astonishment. 'How can he become a locksmith, with its attendant hard work, when he will not even run errands for the baker-shop! No, Herr Marbacher, you are very kind to suggest it, and try to help me out of my trouble, but Martin would never consent to become a locksmith's apprentice. He is downright lazy.'

"'Well, you might let me have a trial with him,' said the locksmith; 'I am loved by all my workmen, yet they fear me, too; they do good work under my direction, and I am proud of my apprentices. Martin, I am certain, would also obey me.'

"'Well, have your way, good neighbor,' replied the widow, 'I can only hope for the best.'

"Evidently Herr Marbacher knew human nature better than the widow, for Martin was delighted with the prospect of becoming an apprentice-locksmith, with the hope of earning the degree of master-locksmith, like Herr Marbacher, and he worked hard and long to please his master. His mother was overjoyed at the change in the lad, and Herr Marbacher himself was very well pleased.

"Now, it chanced that some little time after Martin's apprenticeship, Herr Marbacher handed him a tin pail and directed him to a certain spot on the edge of the forest, without the city walls, where he should gather clay with which to mould a certain form, for which he had had an order. As the commission was a particular one, and somewhat out of the ordinary, it required a peculiar sort of clay which was only to be found in this particular spot.

"With light heart, and whistling a merry tune, Martin, swinging his tin pail, set out upon his errand. The day was perfect; Spring was just beginning; the trees were clothed in their fresh greenness, light clouds flitted across a marvelously blue sky, the birds twittered noisily in the treetops and Martin caught the Spring fever; he fairly bounded over the green fields, and reached the forest in a wonderfully short time.

"Having filled his pail, he started homewards. But, instead of keeping to the path by which he had come, he crossed through the meadows, his heart as light as ever. Suddenly he espied through the trees figures of men or boys; then voices came to his ears; he stopped and listened. Boy-like, he was unable to resist the temptation—the lure of the Spring—so he changed his course and made toward the bowlers, his old-time cronies, who were engaged in their old-time sport. Slower moved his feet,—his conscience prompted him in vain—he forgot the admonition of his master not to loiter on the way, for fear the city gates would be shut at the ringing of the curfew; he forgot all about the time of day, and that it was now well on toward evening. The fever of the Spring had gotten into his veins; Martin paused, set down his bucket of clay, and, picking up a bowl, joined in the sport of his comrades.

"Suddenly the curfew bell reached his ears; he recalled his errand, the warning of his master, and his heart stopped still in fright. He dropped the bowl in his hands, grasped his bucket of clay, and ran with beating heart toward the city gate, but he was too late; the gate was closed and the gate-keeper either would not or could not hear his call.

"Fear now seized Martin, in very truth. The woods about the city were infested with robbers and dangerous men; there was no way in which to protect himself; yet he had nothing about him which any one would care to have, and that thought gave him some comfort. As he was planning how he might get within the walls, a tall man dressed in scarlet feathered cap and a long black velvet cloak upon his shoulders, stood before him.

"'Cheer up, my lad,' said the stranger. 'What is the use of crying?'

"'But I am locked out for the night,' replied Martin.

"'That is nothing to fret about,' answered the tall man. 'Here is some gold. Take it, it will open the gate for you.'

"'Oh, thank you,' said Martin, overjoyed. Then he hesitated. 'But I shall never be able to repay you,' he added. 'I have never seen so much gold.'

"'Oh, do not fret yourself about repaying me,' answered the stranger. 'I have plenty of gold, and do not need the little I have given you. Still, if you are really anxious to repay me, you might give me your soul when you have finished with it.'

"'My soul?' cried the boy aghast. 'I can't give it to you. One cannot sell his soul?'

"'Oh, yes,' replied the malicious stranger, smiling grimly, 'many people do sell their souls; but you need not give it me until you are dead.'

"'Much good would it do you then,' replied Martin; 'I cannot see what you would want with it after I am dead?'

"'That is the bargain,' retorted the tall man. And he made as if to move away and leave Martin to his fate.

"'Oh, very well,' said Martin, fearing to throw away this chance for deliverance. 'I will take your gold, and you may have my soul when I have finished with it; the bargain is made.'

"'And I shall be lenient with you,' continued the stranger. 'I will give you a chance to redeem your soul.'

"'You will?' exclaimed Martin in delight. 'And how?'

"'Only this, if you forget to attend divine service even once, during all the rest of your days, then shall I claim my bargain. Now, am I not fair?'

"Martin was very glad to be released, even with this proviso, and laughed as he moved away, for Martin had been brought up religiously by a pious mother, and he knew he should not forget his Sabbath duty.

"As the stranger had said, the gold gained entrance for Martin Mux through the closed city gate, and he straightway made his way to his room and to bed before his master should discover his absence.

"Some days later, as the apprentices were hard at work in the shop under the scrutinizing eye of Herr Marbacher, a tall man in a black velvet cloak and a red plumed cap, stood in the doorway. Martin recognized his erstwhile friend and feared he knew not what. But the stranger had come to order an iron hoop with padlock so intricate that it could not be unlocked.

"Herr Marbacher hesitated; the order was certainly unusual, and even he, the master-locksmith of Vienna, was uncertain whether he could accomplish such a commission. But, seeing Marbacher's hesitation, the stranger cast his glance about the shop full of young apprentices, and fixing his regard upon Martin, he said, in a loud voice:

"'Among all these workmen, is there not one who can make the lock?'

"Whether impelled by fear, or feeling that having assisted him once, the devil would assist him yet a second time, Martin spoke out,

"'I will do it.'

"All eyes turned toward the young apprentice.

"'You?' cried Marbacher, and he laughed very loud and very long, so excellent did he consider the joke. 'You? You are my very youngest apprentice.'

"'Let him try,' suggested the stranger warily, fearing the master would deny Martin the privilege. 'Who knows what he may be able to accomplish?'

"And so it was agreed.

"Martin worked all that day until the evening shadows compelled him to quit his work. He racked his brain; he thought and thought; yet no lock could he imagine which could not be unlocked. He carried his paper and pencil to his room with him, thinking that in the stillness of the night he might think of some design. But, although he worked conscientiously, no ideas came to him, and he fell asleep. With visions of locks and bolts and bars in his head, it was no wonder that Martin dreamed of robbers' castles and dungeons and locks and bolts. He dreamed about a mighty robber in a fortress-castle; he was a prisoner there, he, Martin; but what his crime he did not know. He rushed toward the door to make his escape; it was locked; he tried to undo it, but in vain; then he looked about him, and the room seemed filled with padlocks, some small, some large, some handsomely wrought, some very simple; but among them he found one that looked like a huge spider. It interested him so much that he took out his pencil and mechanically reproduced it; then he felt himself sinking, sinking, down, down. With a start he awoke, he had tossed himself out of bed and lay sprawling upon the floor of his room. Rather piqued, Martin picked himself up and jumped into bed. But there upon his pillow lay a drawing. He examined it by the feeble rays of the candle, which was still burning; it was the design of the spider lock he had seen in the robber's castle in his dream.

"Impatient for the morning, Martin was at his bench early working upon the design of the lock; and when the end of the sixth day arrived, the time appointed by the stranger for the delivery of the work, Martin had the lock completed. Evidently it proved entirely satisfactory to the stranger, for he paid Marbacher the money agreed upon, and left the shop.

"At the corner of the square he stopped before the larch-tree, bound the iron hoop about the tree, locked it, put the key in his pocket and disappeared.

"Time passed. Martin, for some inexplicable reason, had left Vienna and gone to the city of Nuremburg where he continued in his profession. But, one day, he heard that the Burgomaster of Vienna had offered the title of master-locksmith to the one who would make a key which would unlock the iron hoop about the larch-tree. It was a small task for Martin to make a duplicate of the key he had once made, and with it in his pocket he travelled to Vienna and presented it to the Burgomaster.

"It was a great holiday when the hoop was to be unbound. Dressed in robes of state, glistening all over with gold thread and medals, the Burgomaster and the City Fathers gathered in the Horsemarket, where stood the Stock im Eisen; the lock was unfastened and Martin was created a master-locksmith, much to the joy of his mother and to the overwhelming pride of his former master, Herr Marbacher.

"But, although Martin Mux had now acquired fortune and fame, he was far from being happy. His bargain with the devil haunted him; day and night it was with him, for he feared Sunday morning might come and he would forget to attend Mass. And then he would be irretrievably lost. What would he not give to be able to recall his bargain. He enjoyed no peace of mind; at his bench he thought ever of the dreaded day when he must pay; he could no longer work; he must not think; he joined his old-time idle companions; hour after hour was spent in gambling; night after night he frittered his wealth away; the more he lost the more desperate he became; poor Martin Mux was paying dearly for his game of bowls and his disobedience to his master.

"One Saturday evening Martin joined his comrades quite early, but luck had deserted him; he lost and lost. One by one the other habituÉs of the place had gone until there was no one left but Martin and his few friends at the table with him. He paid no heed to time; all he thought of was to regain some of his lost money. Suddenly, as had happened some years before, out on the bowling green, Martin heard the deep tones of a bell. But this was not the curfew; it was the church bell calling to Mass.

"Martin looked up from his cards and saw the sun shining brightly through the curtained windows. His heart stood still with fright, for his bargain flashed through his mind; he threw down the cards and fled into the street, like a mad man.

"On and on he ran. He brushed past a tall man, but heeding him not, Martin rushed on.

"'Hurry, my friend,' called out the stranger, whom he had jostled. 'Hurry, the church bell has rung; the bargain is paid.'

"A malicious laugh rang in Martin's ear. He turned and saw the evil-eyed stranger, him of the black velvet cloak and red-plumed cap.

"Mad with fear, Martin bounded up the church steps. He entered the house of worship; but the stranger had said truly it was too late; the bargain was due for the service was ending. Martin Mux turned to leave the church, but at the threshold he fell dead; the stranger had claimed his soul.

"Since that time it has been the custom for every locksmith apprentice, whether he comes into Vienna to seek his fortunes, or whether he goes out from Vienna to other parts, to drive a nail into the stump of the larch-tree and offer up a prayer for the peace of Martin Mux's soul. That is why the old tree is so studded with nails."

"What a dreadful bargain for Martin to make!" said Teresa fearfully. "How could he have given his soul away?"

"He chose the easier way out of a small difficulty, and he paid dearly for it," replied Herr MÜller. "It is not always the easiest way which is the wisest, after all."