Midnight tied up his head with a handkerchief, and lay down under the bench, groaning and groaning, unable to put his head to the ground, or even to lay it in the crook of his arm, it was so bruised by the beating given it by the little old man.

In the evening the brothers rode back, and found Midnight groaning under the bench, with his head bound up in a handkerchief.

Evening looked at him and said nothing.  Perhaps he was thinking of his own bruised head, which was still tied up in a dishcloth.

“What’s the matter with you?” says Sunrise.

“There never was such another stove as this,” says Midnight.  “I’d no sooner lit it than it seemed as if the whole hut were on fire.  My head nearly burst.  It’s aching now; and as for your dinner, why, I’ve not been able to put a hand to anything all day.”

Evening chuckled to himself, but Sunrise only said, “That’s bad, brother; but you shall go hunting to-morrow, and I’ll stay at home, and see what I can do with the stove.”

And so on the third day the two elder brothers went hunting—­Midnight on his black horse, and Evening on his horse of dusky brown.  Sunrise stood in the doorway of the hut, and saw them disappear under the green trees.  The sun shone on his golden curls, and his blue eyes were like the sky itself.  There, never was such another bogatir as he.

He went into the hut and lit the stove.  Then he went out into the yard, chose the best sheep he could find, killed it, skinned it, cleaned it, cut it up, and set it on the stove.  He made everything ready, and then lay down on the bench.

Before he had lain there very long he heard a stumping, a thumping, a knocking, a rattling, a grumbling, a rumbling.  Sunrise leaped up from the bench and looked out through the window of the hut.  There in the yard was the little old man, one yard high, with a beard seven yards long.  He was carrying a whole haystack on his head and a great tub of water in his arms.  He came into the middle of the yard, and set down his tub to water all the beasts.  He set down the haystack and scattered the hay about.  All the cattle and the sheep came together to eat and to drink, and the little man stood and counted them.  He counted the oxen, he counted the goats, and then he counted the sheep.  He counted them once, and his eyes began to flash.  He counted them twice, and he began to grind his teeth.  He counted them a third time, made sure that one was missing, and then he flew into a violent rage, rushed across the yard and into the hut, and gave Sunrise a terrific blow on the head.

Sunrise shook his head as if a fly had settled on it.  Then he jumped suddenly and caught the end of the long beard of the little old man, and set to pulling him this way and that, round and round the hut, as if his beard was a rope.  Phew! how the little man roared.

Sunrise laughed, and tugged him this way and that, and mocked him, crying out, “If you do not know the ford, it is better not to go into the water,” meaning that the little fellow had begun to beat him without finding out who was the stronger.