Page:St. Nicholas - Volume 41, Part 1.djvu/63

1913.] been busy with the goats during the summer, and had no time for wood-cutting, so they had only a few dead branches that he had picked up in the forest, which had to be used very sparingly. But the work went on just as in the huts where the fire was well fed. When their fingers stiffened with cold, they clapped hands until the surging blood made them warm. They carved out pieces, smoothed and fastened them in place, until, one day, Hans Gerber said: “The clock is finished!” And setting it on the table, he added: “Let us see if the cuckoo will call.”

Turning the hands so that they marked the hour, they waited. It was a breathless moment, for, if the cuckoo did not call, the winter’s work was a failure, and their only hope of winning the prize was gone. But there came a whirring sound, and from the door under the face a tiny bird popped out, calling, “Cuckoo, cuckoo!”

Gerther's eyes grew bright as stars, and Hans Gerber nodded his head and smiled.

“The singing clock is good, boy! We have done our work well.”

The lad could hardly wait for spring, for now that the clock was finished, the days seemed weeks long. and he thought the snow would never melt. But one afternoon, as he was bedding the goats, he heard what Black Forest peasants say is an unfailing sign that the cold weather is over. A pair of martens twittered in the woods and commenced building in the bird-house over the hut, and the next morning he found that the ice on the river was breaking.

Easter Monday was set for the exhibition, and great preparations were made for the event, as the grand duke himself, with the duchess and the young princess, was coming to inspect the work. The housewives made their finest fruit-bread and nut-cakes, while the men carried the clocks to the village inn, where they were arranged on tables according to size and beauty. Gerther and his grandfather went with the rest, but when the boy looked at the work of the others, his heart sank. All but the cuckoo-clock were painted. Some had the cases ornamented with flowers and birds, and one was enameled in blue and silver.

“I 'm afraid our clock won't take the prize,” he said to his grand- father as they walked home through the budding woods. “The others are so gay, and ours has not a bit of color.”

But Hans Gerber was old and wise, and knew that a clock may be very fine without, yet not half so good within, as one that is plain and unpainted. So he answered consolingly, “Don't let that worry you, boy. It 's the works that make a clock worth while, not a case that looks like Joseph's coat.”

So Gerther went to sleep that night, and dreamed that they had a new hut, and that a cow with a star on her forehead stood in the barn, for it seemed their clock had won the prize.

The next day, a throng of villagers gathered in front of the village inn. Everybody was in

We have Vol. XLI.—7.