Oh, yes! that suited Peterkin; of course he would come in. So in he came, and then he and the giant sat down to supper together. After they had eaten as much as they could the giant laid his head in Peterkin’s lap, and Peterkin combed his hair and combed his hair, until he fell fast asleep and began to snore so that he made the cinders fly up the chimney.
Then Peterkin rose up softly and took down the Sword of Light from the wall. After that he went out on tiptoes and mounted the Little Grey Hare, and away they went till the chips flew behind them.
By and by the giant opened his eyes and saw that Peterkin was gone, and, what was more, his Sword of Light was gone also. Then what a rage he was in! Off he went after Peterkin and the Little Grey Hare, seven miles at a step. But he was just a little too late, though there was no room to spare between Peterkin and him, and that is the truth.
“Is that you, Peterkin?” said he.
“Yes; it is I,” said Peterkin.
“And have you stolen my Sword of Light?” said the giant.
Oh, yes; Peterkin had done that.
“And what would you do if you were me and I were you?” said the giant.
“I would drink the river dry and follow after,” said Peterkin.