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Osborn Boots and Mr. Glibtongue
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his hair. Just then up came the Troll, puffing and blowing. He was so heavy-footed that all the wood groaned and cracked a whole mile round.

And when the Troll saw Glibtongue sitting up in the tree-top like a little blackcock, he spat at him.

"Pish!" he said, that was all, and down toppled Glibtongue and the spruce fir to the ground, and there he lay sprawling like a fish out of water.

"Hu! hu!" said the Troll; "are you sitting here combing Christian folk's hair? Now I'll gobble you up."

"Stuff!" said Boots, as soon as he woke up, and then he fell to peering at the Troll through the ring on his key.

"Hu! hu!" said the Troll; "what are you staring at? Hu! hu!"

And as he said that he hurled his iron club at him, so that it stood fifteen ells deep in the rock; but Boots was so quick and ready on his feet, that he got on one side of the club just as the Troll hurled it.

"Stuff, for such old wives' tricks," said Boots; "out with your toothpick, and you shall see something like a throw."

Yes, the Troll plucked out the club at one pull, and it was as big as three weaver's beams. Meanwhile Boots stared up at the sky, both south and north.

"Hu! hu!" said the Troll; "what are you gazing at now?"

"I'm looking out for a star at which to throw," said Boots. "Do you see that tiny little one due north? That's the one I choose."