"Yes," replied the shoemaker; "you won't want them to wear out very soon, if you are going to travel in them."
The giant went into his great hall and put the boots on; and then the shoemaker told him to stand up while he and his assistants buckled the boots around the ankles. While the seven assistants were buckling the boots very tightly, the wily shoemaker went behind the giant, and putting great screws in plates of iron he had set in the heels of the boots, he screwed them firmly to the oaken floor.
When all this was done, the shoemakers retired to some distance, and the giant attempted to take a step.
"What is the matter?—what is the matter?" he roared. "I can not move my feet."
"You needn't try to do it," said the shoemaker, who stood by the open door. "Your heels are screwed fast to the floor, and those buckles are all padlocked. You can't get loose."
"And what do you expect me to do?" shouted Shamruck.
"I intend you to stay there until Saturday morning," said the shoemaker, "when the people can come and wish you a 'Merry Christmas.' Then, if you'll promise not to hurt me, I'll unlock your buckles and unscrew your heels."
"I must stay here, must I?" roared Shamruck. And with that he jerked up his right foot with such force that the great oaken plank to which the heel was screwed came crashing and splintering with it. At this the eight shoemakers dashed out of the front door and ran down the hill. The giant now pulled up the other foot, plank and all. Then he sat down and cut the straps of his boots, and taking them off he unscrewed the heels from the planks.
"With new buckles and straps," he said, "these will be good boots, and if ever I catch that shoemaker, I will pay him for them."