As he rode by the little country churches, he observed that each parson, with his sexton, was busily engaged in decorating his church; and when he came to the road which leads to Boesjo Cloister, he observed that all the poor of the parish were coming with armfuls of bread and long candles, which they had received at the cloister gate.

When Abbot Hans saw all these Christmas preparations, his haste increased.  He was thinking of the festivities that awaited him, which were greater than any the others would be privileged to enjoy.

But the lay brother whined and fretted when he saw how they were preparing to celebrate Christmas in every humble cottage.  He grew more and more anxious, and begged and implored Abbot Hans to turn back and not to throw himself deliberately into the robber’s hands.

Abbot Hans went straight ahead, paying no heed to his lamentations.  He left the plain behind him and came up into desolate and wild forest regions.  Here the road was bad, almost like a stony and burr-strewn path, with neither bridge nor plank to help them over brooklet and rivulet.  The farther they rode, the colder it grew, and after a while they came upon snow-covered ground.

It turned out to be a long and hazardous ride through the forest.  They climbed steep and slippery side paths, crawled over swamp and marsh, and pushed through windfall and bramble.  Just as daylight was waning, the robber boy guided them across a forest meadow, skirted by tall, naked leaf trees and green fir trees.  Back of the meadow loomed a mountain wall, and in this wall they saw a door of thick boards.  Now Abbot Hans understood that they had arrived, and dismounted.  The child opened the heavy door for him, and he looked into a poor mountain grotto, with bare stone walls.  Robber Mother was seated before a log fire that burned in the middle of the floor.  Alongside the walls were beds of virgin pine and moss, and on one of these beds lay Robber Father asleep.

“Come in, you out there!” shouted Robber Mother without rising, “and fetch the horses in with you, so they won’t be destroyed by the night cold.”

Abbot Hans walked boldly into the cave, and the lay brother followed.  Here were wretchedness and poverty! and nothing was done to celebrate Christmas.  Robber Mother had neither brewed nor baked; she had neither washed nor scoured.  The youngsters were lying on the floor around a kettle, eating; but no better food was provided for them than a watery gruel.

Robber Mother spoke in a tone as haughty and dictatorial as any well-to-do peasant woman.  “Sit down by the fire and warm yourself, Abbot Hans,” said she; “and if you have food with you, eat, for the food which we in the forest prepare you wouldn’t care to taste.  And if you are tired after the long journey, you can lie down on one of these beds to sleep.  You needn’t be afraid of oversleeping, for I’m sitting here by the fire keeping watch.  I shall awaken you in time to see that which you have come up here to see.”