"Nay, nay," said the Troll, "let it bide as it is. You mustn't throw away my iron club."
"Well, well," said Boots, "you may have it again then, but perhaps you wouldn't mind if I tossed you up to the moon just for once."
No, the Troll would have nothing to say to that either.
"Oh, but blindman's buff," said Boots; "haven't you a mind to play blindman's buff?"
Yes, that would be fine fun, the Troll thought; "but you shall be blindfold first," said the Troll to Boots.
"Oh yes, with all my heart," said the lad; "but the fairest way is that we draw lots, and then we shan't have anything to quarrel about."
Yes, yes, that was best, and then you may fancy Boots took care the Troll should be the first to have the handkerchief over his eyes, and was the first "buff."
But that just was a game. My! how they went in and out of the wood, and how the Troll ran and stumbled over the stumps, so that the dust flew and the wood rang.
"Haw! haw!" bawled the Troll at last, "the de'il take me if I'll be buff any longer," for he was in a great rage.
"Bide a bit," said Boots, "and I'll stand still and call till you come and catch me."
Meanwhile he took a hemp-comb and ran round to the other side of the tarn, which was so deep it had no bottom.
"Now come; here I stand," bawled out Boots.
"I dare say there are logs and stumps in the way," said the Troll.
