He then went over and took the man off the tree to take him home. He went away with him and never got the like, going through hill, and through mud and dirt, till he came to the house of the other woman. He knocked at the door. The wife rose and let him in.
“How have things happened with you?” “Never you mind, whatever; but, alas! he has been hanged since we went away.”
The wife took to roaring and crying.
“Do not say a word,” he said, “or else you and I will be hanged to-morrow. We will bury him in the garden, and no one will ever know about it. And now,” he said, “I will be returning to my own house.”
The one that was in Loch Buie thought it was time for him now to go home. He knocked at his own door. His wife did not say a word. He then called out to be let in.
“I will not,” said the wife, “for you have been hanged, and you will never get in here.”
“I have not yet been hanged,” he said.
“Be that as it may to you,” she said, “you will never come here.”
The advice he gave himself was to go to the house of the other herdsman. He called out at that one’s door to let him in.
“You will not come in here. I got enough carrying you home on my back, and you after being hanged.”