As soon as the king was dressed the shepherd was again brought before him; but he was more angry than ever to think the wild boars had not torn the man to bits, and he said: “Well, you have learned what it feels to be near ten deaths, now say ‘To my good health!’” But the shepherd broke in with, “I do not fear a hundred deaths, and I will only say it if I may have the princess for my wife.” “Then go to a hundred deaths!” roared the king, and ordered the shepherd to be thrown down the deep vault of scythes. The guards dragged him away to a dark dungeon, in the middle of which was a deep well with sharp scythes all round it. At the bottom of the well was a little light by which one could see if anyone was thrown in whether he had fallen to the bottom. When the shepherd was dragged to the dungeons he begged the guards to leave him alone a little while that he might look down into the pit of scythes; perhaps he might after all make up his mind to say “To your good health” to the king. So the guards left him alone and he stuck up his long stick near the well, hung his cloak round the stick and put his hat on the top. He also hung his knapsack up inside the cloak so that it might seem to have some body within it. When this was done he called out to the guards and said that he had considered the matter but after all he could not make up his mind to say what the king wished. The guards came in, threw the hat and cloak, knapsack and stick all down the well together, watched to see how they put out the light at the bottom and came away, thinking that now there really was an end of the shepherd. But he had hidden in a dark corner and was laughing to himself all the time. Quite early next morning came the Lord Chamberlain, carrying a lamp and he nearly fell backwards with surprise when he saw the shepherd alive and well. He brought him to the king, whose fury was greater than ever, but who cried: “Well, now you have been near a hundred deaths; will you say: ‘To your good health’?” But the shepherd only gave the same answer: “I won’t say it till the princess is my wife.” “Perhaps after all you may do it for less,” said the king, who saw that there was no chance of making away with the shepherd; and he ordered the state coach to be got ready, then he made the shepherd get in with him and sit beside him, and ordered the coachman to drive to the silver wood. When they reached it he said: “Do you see this silver wood? Well, if you will say, ‘To your good health,’ I will give it to you.” The shepherd turned hot and cold by turns, but he still persisted: “I will not say it till the princess is my wife.” The king was much vexed; he drove further on till they came to a splendid castle, all of gold, and then he said: “Do you see this golden castle? Well, I will give you that too, the silver wood and the golden castle, if only you will say that one thing to me: ‘To your good health.’”