“Why, no,” answered the farmer, remembering _his_ part of the agreement, “_I don’t blame you_, but you must never do it any more. And now you must take these (pointing to the sheep), and because the bog is soft on the road to the ‘land of the giant,’ you must make ‘the road of the sheeps’ feet’ for them to go over, and come back when they are fat, and the giant will support you while you are there. _Do you blame me for that?_” “No,” said Rooshkulum, driving away the sheep. But, contrary to all their expectations, in an hour’s time in marched Rooshkulum, covered with bog dirt and blood. “O!” said he, “I have had hard work since, and made a good deal of the road of the sheeps’ legs; but, indeed, there are not half enough legs after all, and you must give me more legs, if you would wish the road made firm.” “And, you rascal, do you tell me you have cut off the legs of all my fine sheep?” “Every one, sir; did you not desire me? _Do you blame me?_” “O dear no! by no means! Only take care, and don’t do it any more.” They went on tolerably for a few days, for they were afraid of Rooshkulum, and let him alone, till one morning the farmer told him he was going to a wedding that night, and that he might go with him. “Well,” said Rooshkulum, “what is a wedding? what will they do there?” “Why,” answered the farmer, “a wedding is a fine place, where there is a good supper, and two people are joined together as man and wife.” “O, is that it? I should like much to see what they’ll do.” “Well, then, you must promise me to do what I’ll tell you with the horses when we are going.” “Why, what shall I do?” “O, only when we are going, _don’t take your eyes from the horses_ till we get there; then have your _two eyes_ on my plate, and _an eye_ on every other person’s plate; and _then_ you’ll see what they’ll do.” Rooshkulum said nothing. They went to the wedding; but when they sat down to supper, all were surprised to find a round thing on their plates, covered with blood, and not looking very tempting. But the farmer soon guessed the sad truth, and calling Rooshkulum aside, he sternly asked him what he had done. “_Can you blame me?_” answered the provoking Rooshkulum; “did you not desire me not to take the eyes from the horses till I got here, and to put them on the plates, and two on your own plate, and that I would see what they would do then?” “_O, don’t imagine I blame you_,” said the farmer; “but I meant your own eyes all the time; and, mind me, _don’t do it any more_!”