When they came in at last, the supper was being prepared. Mihal was now quite certain that his wants would be attended to; but how woefully was he doomed to be disappointed! For, no sooner had they entered the house than the accursed old lady seized a large cake of wheaten bread, which was baking on the embers, and, hastily spreading on it a coat of butter, directed Mihal to attend her again into the garden! He could say nothing, for his master’s eyes were on him. He was completely bewildered. In despair he went with the old lady, and as it was a lovely moonlight night, she stopped out an unusual time, and it was very late when they came in. Mihal stretched himself, quite fainting, on the bed, but slept not a wink. How I wish, now, thought he, that I had given the greyhound not only the small bones, but even half my hen! The next morning the family early assembled for breakfast, and again were the cakes put down to bake over the glowing fire. _Again_ did the old lady seize one, and command Mihal into the garden! He was now completely exhausted; and, determining to expostulate with his master when he came in, went up to him, craving some food. “No,” said the farmer; “we never eat except at stated times, and my mother keeps the keys.” “Ah, sir, have pity on me!” answered Mihal; “how can I exist, or do your business?” “_And can you blame me?_” said the master. Mihal, now quite losing sight of the agreement, and confused by the question, put in so treacherous a manner, answered, “that of course he could not but blame any person who would permit such infamous conduct.” Here was the signal. Mihal, in his enfeebled state, was no match for the sturdy farmer; in a moment his head was rolling on the floor by a vigorous stroke of the fatal axe, while grins of satisfaction might be seen playing on the countenances both of the old lady, _and her greyhound_! The feelings of the poor widow may be imagined, when no tidings ever reached her of her Mihal More. But, on the expiration of a year, the second son, Pauthrick Dhuv, or Patrick Black Fellow, so called from his dark complexion, also prevailed on his mother to let him go in search of his brother, and of employment. But why should I describe again the horrid scene? Let me satisfy you by merely saying that precisely the same occurrences also happened to poor Pauthrick Dhuv, and that his bones were added to those of his brother, and of the other victims behind the farmer’s garden!