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Now when the sweet-wort was ready, they were all eager to taste it, you may guess; first of all the Ogre, and then all his kith and kin. But Shortshanks had brewed the wort so strong that they all fell down dead, one after another, like so many flies, as soon as they had tasted it. At last there wasn't one of them left alive but one vile old hag, who lay bed-ridden in the chimney-corner.
They part at two roads almost immediately, and the story follows the fortunes of Shortshanks, the younger; for in these miniature romances the elder is, as usual, continually snubbed, and the younger is always the great man.
'Oh you poor old wretch', said Shortshanks, 'you may just as well taste the wort along with the rest. So, he went and scooped up a little from the bottom of the copper in a scoop, and gave her a drink, and so he was rid of the whole pack of them.
'Very good', said Shortshanks; 'but do you know I've come to fetch you? 'Oh! she cried, 'you'll never fetch me; you'll never have that luck, for if the Ogre sees you, he'll kill you on the spot. 'I'm glad you spoke of the Ogre', said Shortshanks; ''twould be fine fun to see him; whereabouts is he?
'Well! said Shortshanks, 'if that's to be the rule, I don't think we shall meet again very soon. After that they bade each other good-bye, and Shortshanks went east, and King Sturdy west. Now, you must know, when Shortshanks had gone a good bit alone, he met an old, old crook-backed hag, who had only one eye, and Shortshanks snapped it up.
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