Now, at home, they watched the water in the filly’s hoof tracks as regular as the sun rose every day, day after day, till at last they one day saw the water in the hoof tracks frothing, and they said he was fighting a hard battle; and so he was, for that was the very day himself and the first giant had the encounter. Next day it was frothing more than ever, for that was the day he was fighting the second giant, and on the third day the water frothed right up out of the tracks, and then they knew he was fighting a desperate big battle entirely; and sure enough himself and the third giant were at it hard and fast at the same ins’ant. But at length didn’t they find the water turning to blood and they thought he must be killed. So the next morning the second brother set out and he said he wouldn’t sleep two nights in the one bed nor eat two meals of meat in the one house till he’d find out what happened to his brother. He took his hound, his hawk and his filly with him and he traveled on and on, far further than I could tell you, and twice further than you could tell me, till at length one evening late doesn’t he come to the very wee house near a great castle where his brother had put up before him. And when he comes in the old woman that was in the house flew at him and kissed him and welcomed him back with a hundred welcomes ten times over, for he was so like his brother she was sure it was him was in it. Then she told him that they were all waiting for him anxiously at the castle, expecting him back every day, and that he should lose no time in going to them, for that the bride in particular was down-hearted entirely since he had went away, thinking that she’d never see him no more. So off he starts at once for the castle to find it all out, and it’s there was the welcome and the rejoicing, and the pretty king’s daughter covered him all over with kisses, and there was a great spread, and all the gentry and nobility were asked in again, but that night again, what would you have of it, but the hare comes a sccond time, and spoiled the cook’s best dish, and drove the cook into a frightful rage, and—“It’s a nice how do ye do, indeed,” says the cook, says she, “that with a hairo in the house that slew three giants a hare would be allowed to come in and spoil my very choicest dish, and then go off with itself scot free,” says she. And this word come to the new groom in the ballroom, and “By this, and by that,” says he, “I won’t stop till I go after that hare, and I’ll never stop two nights or eat two meals in the one house ’till I bring back that hare dead or alive.” And so, off he starts, himself, the hound, the hawk, and the filly; and all that night and the next day he purshued after the hare, and late the next evening when he was feeling tired out and not able to follow any further doesn’t he see in the hollow below him a little house, and drawing on the house, he went in and was warming himself by the fire with his hound, his hawk and his filly about him when he hears a noise at the window, and there he sees an old hag quaking and shaking all over. “Och, och, och, it’s cold, cold, cold,” says she, trembling all over. “Why don’t you come in and warm yourself?” says he. “O,” says she, “I couldn’t go in, for I’m afeerd of them wild animals of yours. But here,” says she, pulling three long hairs out of her head, “here’s three of the kind of borochs we used to use long ago, and tie your aninials with them, and then I’ll go in.” So he takes the hairs and ties the hound, the hawk and the filly with them, and then the old hag came in, and she not trembling at all now, but her eyes flashing fire, and, says she, “Your brother killed my three sons, and I made him pay dearly for it, and I’ll make you pay dearly,” says she, “too.” So with that she drew a sword, and he drew a sword, and both of them to it, and they fought long and they fought hard, but the hag was too many for him, so at length he had to call on the hound. “Hound, hound,” says he, “where are you at my command?” Says the old hag, says she, “Hair, hair, hold tight!” “O,” says the hound, “how could I do anything and my throat a-cutting?” Then he called on the hawk. “Hawk, hawk,” says he, “where are you at my command?” “Hair, hair,” says the old hag, says she, “hold tight!” “O,” says the hawk, “how could I do anything and my throat a-cutting?” Then he called on his filly. “Filly, filly,” says he, “where are you at my command?” “Hair, hair,” says the old hag, says she, “hold tight!” “O,” says the filly, says he, “how could I do anything and my throat a-cutting?” So the end of it all was again that the hag got the better of him, and, taking out a wee bit of white rod out of her pocket she struck him with it, and turned him into another gray stone outside the door, and then struck the hound, the hawk and the filly, and turned them into three white stones just beside him.
Now, at home as before, they were watching his filly’s hoof tracks every day regular, and everything went well till at last one day they saw the water in them turn bloody and then they were afeerd he was kilt. Then the very next morning says the youngest son Jack, says he, “I’ll start off with my hound, my hawk and my filly, and won’t sleep two nights in one bed, or eat two meals in the one house till I find what has happened to my two older brothers.” So off he starts—himself, his filly, his hawk, and his hound—and he traveled and traveled away, far further than you could tell me or I could tell you, till he come in sight of the very same castle his two brothers reached before him, and drawing on the wee hut he saw near it he went in, and the old woman jumped and threw her arms about his neck, and welcomed him home with a hundred thousand welcomes, and told him it was a poor thing to go away and leave his bride the way he did, twice, and that she was in a very bad way, down-hearted entirely, thinking and ruminating what had become of him, or happened to him at all, at all. And then she hurried my brave Jack off to the castle. And, och, it’s there the welcome was for him and the rejoicements, bekase he had come back again. And this time, just as before, the great faist was given, and the gentry and nobility all asked in to it, and the play was at its heighth when the word come to the ball-room once more about the unmannerly hare spoiling the cook’s best dish the third time, and how the cook said it was a purty how de ye do, entirely, that such a thing would be allowed, with a hairo in the house that slew three giants. And with that, without more ado, off my brave Jack insisted on starting, and there was no holding of him, good or bad, for he said he was bound to fetch back that hare, dead or alive. So off Jack starts himself, his hawk, his hound and his filly, and Jack had a sort of notion in his eye that this same hare was nothing good, and that ’twas it led his two brothers astray, whatever had happened to them. So he traveled on, and on, and on, for that night and all the next day, and never come up with the hare, till at length, late that evening, he saw from him the same wee hut in the hollow that his brothers drew on before, and on it my brave Jack drew, too. And after he had been in the cabin some time himself, his hound, his hawk and his filly, he hears the noise at the window, and there he sees the old hag, trembling and shaking and quaking, and “Och, och, och, but it’s cold, cold, cold,” says she: “And why,” says he, “don’t you come in and warm yourself?” “Och,” says she, “I’m afeerd of them wild animals of yours. But here,” says she, taking out of her head three hairs, “here’s three of the kind of borochs we used to use in old times, and tie your animals with them, and then I’ll go in.” Jack took from her the three hairs, and, pretending to tie the hound, the hawk and the filly with them, he threw them instead into the fire. Then the old hag came in, her eyes blazing in her head, and, drawing a sword, she rushes at Jack to have his life. And Jack drew his sword and rushed at her, and both of them to it hard and fast, and they fought long and they fought hard, till at length Jack, finding the hag putting too sore on him, called on his hound. “Hound, hound, where are you at my command?” “Hair, hair,” says the old hag, says she, “hold tight!” “O,” says the hair, “it’s hard for me to do good and me a-burning in the fire.” And then Jack called on his hawk. “Hawk, hawk,” says he, “where are you at my command?” “Hair, hair,” says the old hag, says she, “hold tight.” “O,” says the hair, “it’s hard for me to do good and me a-burning in the fire.” Then Jack called on his filly. “Filly, filly,” says he, “where are you at my command?” “Hair, hair,” says the old hag, says she, “hold tight.” “O,” says the hair, “it’s hard for me to do good and me a-burning in the fire.” So the hound, the hawk and the filly all rallied to my brave Jack’s aid, and the hound got hold of the hag by the heel and wouldn’t let her go all she could do; and with one fling the filly broke her leg, and the hawk picked out her two eyes, so she couldn’t see what she was doing, or where she was striking. So then, she cried out, “Mercy, mercy, spare my life and I’ll give you back your two brothers.” “All right,” says Jack, “tell me where they are, and how I’m to get them.” “Do you see them two gray stones,” says she, “outside the door, with three smaller white ones round each of them?” “I do,” says Jack. “Well,” says she, “the gray stones are your brothers, and the others are their hounds, their hawks, and their fillies; and if you take water from the well at the foot of that tree below the house, and sprinkle three drops of it on each of them stones, they’ll all be disenchanted again.” Jack, you may suppose, didn’t lose much time doing this, and lo and behold you from the stones comes up his two brothers, every one of them with his hound, his hawk, and his filly, just the same as they were before they had been enchanted by the old Hag of the Forest, and that was the meeting and the greeting between Jack and his lost brothers, that he thought he’d never see again! But off they soon started, all of them, with their hounds, their hawks and their fillies, away back for the castle again, and the eldest brother got his bride and the faist was spread this time again and all the gentry and nobility of both that and the surrounding countries all come to attend it and do honor to the bride and groom; and such a time for eating, drinking, dancing, singing, fun and amusement was never seen before or after. Jack and the second brother started away off afterwards for home with their hounds, their hawks and their fillies with them and as much goold as they could carry. I got brogues of brocham and slippers of bread, a piece of a pie for telling a lie, and then come slithering home on my head.