"_Mile mollacht_!" says he, "what will I do after promising Johanna to buy her a shawl. I must only go and drive another beast to the market unknownst. I'd never hear the last of it if Joan found out what a fool I made of myself." The thieves were in great admiration at Jack, and wanted him to tell them how he had done the farmer, but he wouldn't tell them. By-and-by, they see the poor man driving a fine fat wether the same way. "Who'll steal that wether," says Jack, "before it's out of the wood, and no roughness used?" "I couldn't," says one; and "I couldn't," says another. "I'll try," says Jack. "Give me a good rope." The poor farmer was jogging along and thinking of his misfortune, when he sees a man hanging from the bough of a tree. "Lord save us!" says he, "the corpse wasn't there an hour ago." He went on about half a quarter of a mile, and, there was another corpse again hanging over the road. "God between us and harm," said he, "am I in my right senses?" There was another turn about the same distance, and just beyond it the third corpse was hanging. "Oh, murdher!" said he; "I'm beside myself. What would bring three hung men so near one another? I must be mad. I'll go back and see if the others are there still." He tied the wether to a sapling, and back he went. But when he was round the bend, down came the corpse, and loosened the wether, and drove it home through the wood to the robbers' house. You all may think how the poor farmer felt when he could find no one dead or alive going or coming, nor his wether, nor the rope that fastened him. "Oh, misfortunate day!" cried he, "what'll Joan say to me now? My morning gone, and the goat and wether lost! I must sell something to make the price of the shawl. Well, the fat bullock is in the nearest field. She won't see me taking it." Well, if the robbers were not surprised when Jack came into the bawn with the wether! "If you do another trick like this," said the captain, "I'll resign the command to you." They soon saw the farmer going by again, driving a fat bullock this time. "Who'll bring that fat bullock here," says Jack, "and use no violence?" "I couldn't," says one; and "I couldn't," says another. "I'll try," says Jack, and away he went into the wood. The farmer was about the spot where he saw the first brogue, when he heard the bleating of a goat off at his right in the wood. He cocked his ears, and the next thing he heard was the maaing of a sheep.