The owner of the beautiful valley seemed very angry when he caught sight of Bludgeonhead sitting on his property, and hastening up to him, he cried:
"What business have you here in the Valley of Fortyforefoot?"
Jimmieboy shrank back into one corner of the pocket, a little overcome with fear. Fortyforefoot was larger and more terrible than he thought.
"I am not good at riddles," said Bludgeonhead, calmly. "That is at riddles of that sort. If you had asked me the difference between a duck and a garden rake I should have told you that a duck has no teeth and can eat, while a rake has plenty of teeth and can't eat. But when you ask me what business I have here I am forced to say that I can't say."
"You are a very bright sort of a giant," sneered Fortyforefoot.
"Yes," replied Bludgeonhead. "The fact is I can't help being bright. My mother polishes me every morning with a damp chamois."
"Do you know to whom you are speaking?" asked Fortyforefoot, threateningly.
"No; not having been introduced to you, I can't say I know you," returned Bludgeonhead. "But I think I can guess. You are Anklehigh, the Dwarf."
At this Fortyforefoot turned purple with rage.
"Anklehigh the Dwarf?" he roared. "I'll right quickly teach thee a lesson thou rash fellow."