"Jack," answered the boy.
"Jack," bellowed the giant. "Did you say Jack?"
"Why—why, yes," replied our hero. "What—what of it?"
"What of it?" repeated the monster, "why everything of it. You tell me your name is Jack and yet you say you don't know anything about my harp, or my hen, or my money bags. I suppose you'll say next you didn't cut down the beanstalk and almost make me break my neck?"
"Never," shouted Jack, "I never did. I never had a beanstalk. It was that other Jack in the story. You needn't blame it on me."
And he said it so earnestly the giant hesitated. "Well," he grumbled, scratching his head and frowning at the boy, "I may be wrong but it seems very queer that your name should be Jack also. And it seems even queerer that you should be digging in the exact spot where I fell down the beanstalk. Hang it all, I don't know what to think." Then suddenly he clapped his hands together like thunder. "I know what I'll do, I'll take you back home and ask my wife. She has a wonderful memory for faces and she can tell if any one can." And with that he caught up Jack and commenced to climb the grapevine.
"Oh," cried the boy, peering out of the pocket where the giant had tucked him, "this isn't a beanstalk, this is a grapevine and it isn't very strong. You'll have another fall if you don't look out."
"I can't help it," said the giant, "I must find my wife."
And he went on climbing, and climbing, and climbing, which much surprised Jack for he had no idea the grapevine was so high, and he had thought sure it would break when the giant got upon it. But it did nothing of the sort, and at last they came to the end and found themselves standing before the giant's house.
"Now," said the giant, "we'll soon find out whether you're the wrong Jack or not."