stopped to allow the animal to drink.
The Troll raised himself leisurely, and as the horse put in his head,
Terli seized it in both hands, and hung on so firmly that it was
impossible for the poor creature to get away.
"Let go!" said the horse, angrily--for he understood the Troll
language. "Let me go! What are you doing?"
"I shan't let you go till you make me a promise. You get the
Wood-Troll to cork up the Church Fountain at daybreak on Friday
morning, and I'll let you drink as much as you like now, and go
without hindrance afterwards."
"I shan't promise," said the horse, crossly. "I don't see why I
should."
"Well, I shall hang on till you _do_," said the Troll with a
disagreeable laugh; and he gripped the old horse more tightly than
ever.
"Oh, leave off! I'm being suffocated. I'll promise anything," cried
the horse.
LET GO!' SAID THE HORSE, ANGRILY. 'LET ME GO! WHAT
ARE YOU DOING?
ARE YOU DOING?
Terli withdrew his hands immediately, sinking down to the bottom of
the trough with a chuckle that made the water bubble furiously; and
the old horse, without waiting to drink, trotted off with an activity
that surprised his master.
"Remember your promise!" called the Troll, putting his head suddenly
over the edge of the trough, and pointing a thin finger. "On Friday at
daybreak the Church Fountain stopped, or you don't drink comfortably
for a twelve-month!"
