Yes, it was Sikku; and Kettu; and those were the Anttilla Farm cows that the robbers had taken away with them. Three had been slain, but the nine that were left, Sikku had asked for as his share of the booty.
"Here I come, bringing you nine beautiful cows!" shouted Sikku. He would fain have swung his cap for joy, only he had no cap.
"Darling boy!" "Is it really you?" exclaimed the farmer and his wife at the same time. Then they embraced Sikku, and patted the cows again and again in their delight.
Kettu had already disappeared in the hut to see whether Miss Pussy's broken dish still stood by the water-tub. Miss Pussy hissed and spat at him and so there was again war in the land.
"Are you hungry, Sikku?" asked the mistress. Her conscience was very uneasy.
"No, I thank you," answered Sikku. "I was thinking of something else. It is not yet full moon."
At these words, the farmer fumbled with his big ears in embarrassment and distress, remembering his rash promise. Here was Sikku with nine cows, and true enough, the moon was not yet full. Well, Sikku had proved himself a fine fellow;—a promise was a promise;—they needed the cows sadly. One might as well make the best of the situation.
"Listen now, Sikku," said he. "Let us be good friends. What could you do with so much land while you are so little? Serve me faithfully for seven years, and I will then keep my promise and give you all the land you can see from Sipuri Mountain."
"Done!" said Sikku.
So Sikku served faithfully for seven years at Anttilla Farm, grew tall and strong, got shirts and caps and shoes, married the farmer's daughter, the kind Greta, and received with her not only all the land to be seen from Sipuri Mountain, but a fine new farmhouse besides.