flying and perch on his hand. But the fox told him to mind and not touch the linden, for there was a big Troll who owned it, and if the king's son but touched the tiniest twig, the Troll would come and slay him on the spot.
Nay, the king's son would be sure not to touch it, he said; but when he had got the bird on his fist, he thought he just would have a twig of the linden; that was past praying against, it was so bright and lovely. So he took one, just one very tiny little one. But in a trice out came the Troll.
"Who is it that steals my linden and my bird?" he roared; and was so angry, that sparks of fire flashed from him.
"Thieves think every man a thief," said the king's son; "but none are hanged but those who don't steal right."
But the Troll said it was all one, and was just going to smite him; but the lad said he must spare his life.
"Well, well," said the Troll, "if you can get me again the horse which my nearest neighbour has stolen from me, you shall get off with your life."
"But where shall I find him?" asked the king's son.
"Oh, he lives three hundred miles beyond yon big fell that looks blue in the sky."
