"Now, little boy," he cried, "let's have a jolly evening together. Your very good health, little boy," and here he jingled his mug against Martin's, and took a sip of tea. "Would you like to hear a song, little boy?" he said, after finishing his pipe. "No," said Martin, who was getting sleepy; but Jacob took no to mean yes, and so he stood up on his legs and sang this song:-- "My name is Jacob, that's my name; And tho' I'm old, the old man's game-- The air it is so good, d'ye see: And on the plain my flock I keep, And sing all day to please my sheep, And never lose them like Bo-Peep, Becos the ways of them are known to me. "When winter comes and winds do blow, Unto my sheep so good I go-- I'm always good to them, d'ye see-- Ho, sheep, say I, both ram, both ewe, I've sung you songs all summer through, Now lend to me a skin or two, To keep the cold and wet from out o' me." This song, accompanied with loud raps on the table, was bellowed forth in a dreadfully discordant voice; and very soon all the dogs rushed into the room and began to bark and howl most dismally, which seemed to please the old man greatly, for to him it was a kind of applause. But the noise was too much for Martin; so he stopped up his ears, and only removed his fingers from them when the performance was over. After the song the old man offered to dance, for he had not yet had amusement enough. "Boy, can you play on this?" he shouted, holding up a frying-pan and a big stick to beat it with. Of course Martin could play on _that_ instrument: he had often enough played on one like it to startle the echoes on the lake, in other days. And so, when he had been lifted on to the table, he took the frying-pan by the handle, and began vigorously beating on it with the stick. He did not mind the noise now since he was helping to make it. Meanwhile old Jacob began flinging his arms and legs about in all directions, looking like a scarecrow made to tumble about by means of springs and wires. He pounded the clay floor with his ponderous old boots until the room was filled with a cloud of dust; then in his excitement he kicked over chairs, pots, kettle, and whatever came in his way, while he kept on revolving round the table in a kind of crazy fandango. Martin thought it fine fun, and screamed with laughter, and beat his gong louder than ever; then to make matters worse old Jacob at intervals uttered whoops and yells, which the dogs answered with long howls from the door, until the din was something tremendous. At length they both grew tired, and then after resting and sipping some more cold tea, prepared to go to bed. Some sheep-skins were piled up in a corner for Martin to sleep on, and old Jacob covered him with a horse-rug, and tucked him in very carefully. Then the kind old man withdrew to his own bed on the opposite side of the room.