"Ah," said the other horse, "I, too, should like to jump. But I am mounted by an old man, and if I were to jump he would tumble off to the ground like a full sack, and break his neck."
"And let him break it," said Irik's horse, "it does not matter. Instead of an old you would have a young master."
During this conversation Irik laughed heartily, but quietly, lest the king should hear him. The king well understood what the horses had said. He turned round, and, seeing Irik laughing, cried,—
"What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing, your majesty," Irik excused himself; "only something that came into my mind."
The old king, however, began to suspect him, and being afraid of the horses he returned home.
Upon reaching the palace, the king ordered Irik to pour him out a glass of wine.
"But you will lose your head," added the king, "if you pour either too much or too little."
Irik took a bottle and began to pour out the wine. Suddenly two birds flew through a window into the room. One was pursuing the other, and the first held three golden hairs in its beak.
"Give them to me!" cried the second, "they are mine!"
