“But if he’s much bigger than you are he may be tough.”
“Oh, no, he’s just as tender as I am.”
“And a great deal bigger?”
“Oh, yes, a great deal bigger.”
“Very well then, I’ll wait for him. Run along!”
So the little goat ran on, tip-tap! tip-tap! tip-tap! across the bridge, and on up the mountain to where he was safe. And glad enough he was to be out of that scrape, I can tell you.
Now it was not very long after this that the Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff began to think he’d like to go up on the mountain too. He did not say anything about it to the Great Big Billy Goat Gruff, but off he set, all by himself—trap-trap! trap-trap! trap-trap! After a while he came to the bridge, where the Troll lived, and he stepped out upon it, trap-trap! trap-trap! trap-trap!
He’d barely reached the middle of it when the Troll began shouting at him in his great, terrible voice:
“Who’s that going across my bridge?”
“It’s me, the Middle-sized Billy Goat Gruff,” answered the Middle-sized Billy Goat in his middle-sized voice.