“No”, said Dapple again, “I must stay here one year more. Kill the twelve foals as before, that I may suck the mares the whole year, and then just come and look at me when the summer comes.”
Yes! the lad did that; he killed the foals, and went away home.
But when he went up next year to look after Dapple and the mares, he was quite astonished. So tall, and stout, and sturdy, he never thought a horse could be; for Dapple had to lie down on all fours before the lad could bestride him, and it was hard work to get up even then, although he lay flat; and his coat was so smooth and sleek, the sunbeams shone from it as from a looking-glass.
This time Dapple was willing enough to follow the lad, so he jumped up on his back, and when he came riding home to his brothers, they all clapped their hands and crossed themselves, for such a horse they had never heard of nor seen before.
“If you will only get me the best shoes you can for my horse, and the grandest saddle and bridle that are to be found”, said the lad, “you may have my twelve mares that graze up on the hill yonder, and their twelve foals into the bargain.” For you must know that this year too every mare had her foal.
Yes, his brothers were ready to do that, and so the lad got such strong shoes under his horse, that the stones flew high aloft as he rode away across the hills; and he had a golden saddle and a golden bridle, which gleamed and glistened a long way off.
“Now we’re off to the king’s palace”, said Dapplegrim—that was his name; “but mind you ask the king for a good stable and good fodder for me.”
Yes! the lad said he would mind; he’d be sure not to forget; and when he rode off from his brothers’ house, you may be sure it wasn’t long, with such a horse under him, before he got to the king’s palace.
When he came there the king was standing on the steps, and stared and stared at the man who came riding along.
“Nay, nay!”, said he, “such a man and such a horse I never yet saw in all my life.”