He asked the boss to give him the route that led past Giant Blubb's castle, over the old King's Highway.
The master of the brewery saw through Tom's purpose. He winked, and only said:
"Go ahead, my boy. I'll pay you double wages, if you will open that road again; but see that Giant Blubb does not get my load of kegs, or that your carcass doesn't count with those of the twenty wives in his vaults and make twenty-one."
Again he winked his eye knowingly to his workmen. Tom drove off. He occupied all the room on the seat of the cart, which two men usually filled and left plenty of room on either side.
Cracking his whip, the new driver kept the four horses on a galloping pace, until very soon he called out "whoa," before the frowning high gateway of Giant Blubb.
Tom shouted from the depth of his lungs:
"Open the gate and let me drive through. This is the King's Highway."
The only reply, for a minute, was the barking of the curs. Then a rattling of bolts was heard, and the great gates swung wide open.
"Who are you, you impudent fellow? Go round over the hill, or I'll thrash you," blustered Giant Blubb, in a rage.
"Better save your breath to cool your porridge, you big boaster, and come out and fight," said Tom.