For the floods I plow the path,—
Raging, roaring, Riverrath!”
And as he said that, the giant’s voice grew deeper and fuller till it seemed to flood out and fill the air. Jack braced himself against it, but it swept and swirled around him till he drooped limp over Riverrath’s great thumb. But he didn’t lose his wits for all that, and every other minute he kept saying to himself, “I mustn’t let him down me, I mustn’t let him drown me.” Only “down” and “drown” were somehow mixed up in his mind, and which it was he meant he couldn’t himself be quite sure.
“But, but, but,” he gasped as soon as he was able to straighten up again, “you’ve only said your name. You haven’t told me where you come from, where you live, or anything.”
The giant threw back his head with a roar. “That’s just it!” he gurgled. “You’re to come and find out. Anybody else whose father had tried to bridge my river I’d have felt it my duty to drown. But I like you, Jack. You have a steady head on your shoulders. You’re not afraid even of me. And I’ll give you a year and a day to find my castle. It’s a weary walk, but if you get there you’ll never want any good thing more,—that I’ll promise you. But if you don’t,”—and here the giant’s voice grew deep and troubled,—“if you don’t, why then
Your father’s castle, coach, and crown,
Queen and country I will drown!”
There was a sudden brightening in the sky, and Jack felt himself set down with a bump upon the grassy bank. The next moment a chilly spray beat in his face and trickled down his neck. He looked up to see the giant Riverrath with his garments dripping and fluttering, dashing up the river and off toward the pale moon.
“Which way is your castle?” shouted Jack.
“At the ends of the earth,” called the giant. And Jack could hear his mighty laughter gurgling up among the hills.