"We'll see by-and-by whether much will fall to his share!" answered Elijah; "when I've burnt up all his land with lightning, and beaten it all flat with hail, then this Moujik of yours will know what's right, and will learn to keep Elijah's day holy." Well, they wrangled and wrangled; then they parted asunder. St. Nicholas went off straight to the Moujik and said: "Sell all your corn at once, just as it stands, to the Priest of Elijah.[445] If you don't, nothing will be left of it: it will all be beaten flat by hail." Off rushed the Moujik to the Priest. "Won't your Reverence buy some standing corn? I'll sell my whole crop. I'm in such pressing need of money just now. It's a case of pay up with me! Buy it, Father! I'll sell it cheap." They bargained and bargained, and came to an agreement. The Moujik got his money and went home. Some little time passed by. There gathered together, there came rolling up, a stormcloud; with a terrible raining and hailing did it empty itself over the Moujik's cornfields, cutting down all the crop as if with a knife--not even a single blade did it leave standing. Next day Elijah and Nicholas walked past. Says Elijah: "Only see how I've devastated the Moujik's cornfield!" "The Moujik's! No, brother! Devastated it you have splendidly, only that field belongs to the Elijah Priest, not to the Moujik." "To the Priest! How's that?" "Why, this way. The Moujik sold it last week to the Elijah Priest, and got all the money for it. And so, methinks, the Priest may whistle for his money!" "Stop a bit!" said Elijah. "I'll set the field all right again. It shall be twice as good as it was before." They finished talking, and went each his own way. St. Nicholas returned to the Moujik, and said: "Go to the Priest and buy back your crop--you won't lose anything by it." The Moujik went to the Priest, made his bow, and said: "I see, your Reverence, God has sent you a misfortune--the hail has beaten the whole field so flat you might roll a ball over it. Since things are so, let's go halves in the loss. I'll take my field back, and here's half of your money for you to relieve your distress." The Priest was rejoiced, and they immediately struck hands on the bargain. Meanwhile--goodness knows how--the Moujik's ground began to get all right. From the old roots shot forth new tender stems. Rain-clouds came sailing exactly over the cornfield and gave the soil to drink. There sprang up a marvellous crop--tall and thick. As to weeds, there positively was not one to be seen. And the ears grew fuller and fuller, till they were fairly bent right down to the ground. Then the dear sun glowed, and the rye grew ripe--like so much gold did it stand in the fields. Many a sheaf did the Moujik gather, many a heap of sheaves did he set up; and now he was beginning to carry the crop, and to gather it together into ricks.