"If you leave 'em, leave 'em," said a hoodie that was in a tree, "we'll steal 'em, steal 'em."
"If you will do that," says the giant, "I must take them home." He returned home and left them at the house.
At the heat of day the giant's daughter felt her father's breath burning her back.
"Put your finger in the filly's ear, and throw behind whatever you find in it."
He got a splinter of grey stone, and in a twinkling there were twenty miles, by breadth and height, of great grey rock behind them.
The giant came full pelt, but past the rock he could not go.
"The tricks of my own daughter are the hardest things that ever met me," says the giant; "but if I had my lever and my mighty mattock, I would not be long in making my way through this rock also."
There was no help for it, but to turn the chase for them; and he was the boy to split the stones. He was not long in making a road through the rock.
"I will leave the tools here, and I will return no more."
"If you leave 'em, leave 'em," says the hoodie, "we will steal 'em, steal 'em."