The bird directed him to leave the pickaxe and shovel in the porch, and they went up to the roof by the belfry stair. When the youngest brother saw the treasure he was speechless, but the magpie gave him no time to examine the jewels. “Listen to me,” he said, “and we are rich for ever. (I say ‘we’ because I feel you will not forget my poor services.) Do you see an iron bar that sticks out into space on the side of that flying buttress? It is placed there to hold a swinging lamp, and there are five steps by which the sexton approaches it to hang up the light. As you see, they also stand out into space. Tie this piece of string round my leg, and, when I have flown up and alighted on the iron bar, twist the other end round it, so that I may seem to be fastened to it as to a perch; but do not knot it, or make it really secure. To do this you must reach the bar by these steps.” When the young man heard this, his flesh crept, for he was not accustomed to high places and, the steps being on the outer wall, the least giddiness might plunge him headlong into the churchyard, fifty feet below; but, being a manful fellow, he climbed up and twisted the string so neatly round the bar that no one could have supposed the magpie to be anything but a prisoner. “Now,” said the bird, “take your hammer and the piece of iron and loosen the three top steps till they will not bear more than a child’s weight.” When the youngest brother had done this, the magpie told him to hide himself in a ditch in the churchyard, and not to come out till he was called by name. After midnight the robbers came to look at their treasures, and did not notice the magpie sitting on the bar. Indeed, had they done so, they would have paid little heed, supposing him to be some ignorant bird who had no interests beyond his own food. They sat down on the roof as they had done before, and, taking out the jewels, began to count them. They made a large heap and placed the crown on the top. All at once the magpie flew up in the air as far as the string would permit, and cried in a loud and dreadful voice, “_Help! help! The King of Growgland’s crown is stolen!_” At this the thieves were so much horrified that they dropped their booty, and ran wildly to and fro on the roof searching for some hidden person, and, when they came close to the place where the iron bar was, the magpie flew up again, crying the same words more terribly than before. “We’ll soon choke his noise,” exclaimed the robbers; and with one accord they began to climb the steps. But the youngest brother had done his work well: the stones were loose, and in another moment they had fallen headlong through the air, and were lying with their necks broken in the churchyard. The magpie then called his friend, who brought the pickaxe and shovel, and when they had buried the two robbers they went up again to the roof, and put the King of Growgland’s crown into the red silk bag.