III
The three brothers walked on together.
By and by they came to a high hill.
They heard something picking and digging.
“I wonder what it is that is picking,” said the youngest brother.
“Did you never hear a woodpecker before?” asked the brothers.
“Yes, I have,” said the youngest brother.
But I should like to know what it is that we hear.
I am going to find out.”
The brothers laughed at him, but away he went.
Far off in the wood he saw a pick digging all alone.
“Good morning, Pick,” he said.
“Are you digging here all by yourself?
“Yes,” said the pick.
“I have been picking here a hundred years, waiting for you.”
“Well, here I am,” said the youngest brother.
He put the pick in his bag.
Then he ran down to his brothers.