“She has a strong firm grip for a gentle maiden,” thought he to himself, as he raised her from the ground.

“But thou must catch me first,” cried she.

And right towards the house they ran—­she first, and he after her.

Suddenly she stopped short, and putting both arms akimbo, looked straight into his eyes:  “Dost like me?” she asked.

The swain couldn’t say no to that.  He had now got hold of her, and would have put his arm round her.

“’Tis for thee to have a word in the matter, father,” she shouted all at once in the direction of the house; “this swain here would fain wed me.”

And she drew him hastily towards the hut door.

There sat a little grey-clad old fellow, with a cap like a milk-can on his head, staring at the livestock on the mountain-side.  He had a large silver jug in front of him.

“’Tis the homestead westward in the Blue Mountains that he’s after, I know,” said the old man, nodding his head, with a sly look in his eyes.

“Haw, haw!  That’s what they’re after, is it?” thought the swain.  But aloud he said, “’Tis a great offer, I know; but methinks ’tis a little hasty too.  Down our way ’tis the custom to send two go-betweens first of all to arrange matters properly.”

“Thou didst send two before thee, and here they be,” quoth she smartly, and produced his drumsticks.

“And ’tis usual with us, moreover, to have a look over the property first; though the lass herself have wit enough and to spare,” added he.

Then she all at once grew so small, and there was a nasty green glitter in her eyes—–­

“Hast thou not run after me the livelong day, and wooed me right down in the enclosure there, so that my father both heard and saw it all?” cried she.

“Pretty lasses are wont to hold back a bit,” said the swain, in a wheedling sort of way.  He perceived that he must be a little subtle here; it was not all love in this wooing.

Then she seemed to bend her body backwards into a complete curve, and shot forward her head and neck, and her eyes sparkled.

But the old fellow lifted his stick from his knee, and she stood there again as blithe and sportive as ever.

She stretched herself out tall and stiff, with her hands in her silver girdle; and she looked right into his eyes and laughed, and asked him if he was one of those fellows who were afraid of the girls.  If he wanted her he might perchance be run off his legs again, said she.

Then she began tripping up and down, and curtseying and making fun of him again.

But all at once he saw on the sward behind her what looked like the shadow of something that whisked and frisked and writhed round and round, and twisted in and out according as she practised her wheedling ways upon him.

“That is a very curious long sort of riband,” thought the drummer to himself in his amazement.  They were in a great hurry, too, to get him under the yoke, he thought; but they should find that a soldier on his way to the manoeuvres is not to be betrothed and married offhand.