riches to where
the basket was. "If I send up this beautiful lady," thought Lawn
Dyarrig, "she may be taken from me by my brothers; if I remain below
with her, she may be taken from me by people here." He put her in the
basket, and she gave him a ring so that they might know each other if
they met. He shook the gad, and she rose in the basket.

When Ur saw the basket, he thought, "What's above let it be above, and
what's below let it stay where it is."

"I'll have you as wife for ever for myself," said he to the lady.

"I put you under bonds," says she, "not to lay a hand on me for a day
and three years."

"That itself would not be long even if twice the time," said Ur.

The two brothers started home with the lady; on the way Ur found the
head of an old horse with teeth in it, and took them, saying, "These
will be my father's three teeth."

They travelled on, and reached home at last. Ur would not have left a
tooth in his father's mouth, trying to put in the three that he had
brought; but the father stopped him.

Lawn Dyarrig, left in Terrible Valley, began to walk around for himself.
He had been walking but one day when whom should he meet but the lad
Short-clothes, and he saluted him. "By what way can I leave Terrible
Valley?" asked Lawn Dyarrig.

"If I had a grip on you that's what you wouldn't ask me a second time,"
said Short-clothes.

"If you haven't touched me, you will before you are much older."

"If you do, you will not treat me as you did all my people and my
master."

"I'll do worse to you than I did to them," said Lawn Dyarrig.

They caught each other then, one grip under the arm and one on the
shoulder. 'Tis not long they were wrestling when Lawn Dyarrig had
Short-clothes on the earth, and he gave him the five thin tyings dear
and tight.

"You are the best hero I have ever met," said Short-clothes; "give me
quarter for my soul--spare me. When I did not tell you of my own will, I
must tell in spite of myself."

"It is as easy for me to loosen you as to tie you," said Lawn Dyarrig,
and he freed him.

"Since you are not dead now," said Short-clothes, "there is no death
allotted to you. I'll find a way for you to leave Terrible Valley. Go
and take that old bridle hanging there beyond and shake it; whatever
beast comes and puts its head into the bridle will carry you."

Lawn Dyarrig shook the bridle, and a dirty, shaggy little foal came and
put its head in the bridle. Lawn Dyarrig mounted,