Again and again the tiny brown Piskey shouted into the Giant’s ear, but the big Giant took no more notice of his little piping voice than if a fly had buzzed close to his ear, and went on dipping.
Once more the Piskey shouted with all the voice he had, thrusting his red-capped head into the hollow of the Giant’s ear as he shouted:
‘Giant Tregeagle, Giant Tregeagle, I am a poor little Piskey who has lost his laugh. Please stop dipping water for a minute, and tell me if you have seen it.’
This time the Giant heard, and without pausing for a moment his hopeless task of emptying the pool dry, he said:
‘What tiny squeak did I hear?’
The Piskey was too frightened to answer, for Giant Tregeagle’s voice was almost as loud as the roar of breakers breaking in the cavern under King Arthur’s Castle, and the tiny fellow crouched down in the curl of the Giant’s ear.
‘What tiny squeak did I hear?’ again asked the Giant; and the little Piskey, taking his courage in both his hands, answered back as loud as he could:
‘It was a little Piskey who spoke to you—a little Piskey who has had the great misfortune to lose his laugh.’
‘A little Piskey has lost his laugh, has he?’ roared Giant Tregeagle. ‘Why, that’s nothing compared to a Giant who has lost his soul!’
‘Have you lost your soul?’ cried the little Piskey, who, having got the Giant’s ear, could now make his tiny voice distinctly heard.