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So the woodman at last said he would sell Tom to the strangers

for a large piece of gold, and they paid the price. 'Where would

you like to sit?' said one of them. 'Oh, put me on the rim of

your hat; that will be a nice gallery for me; I can walk about

there and see the country as we go along.' So they did as he

wished; and when Tom had taken leave of his father they took him

away with them.

They journeyed on till it began to be dusky, and then the little

man said, 'Let me get down, I'm tired.' So the man took off his

hat, and put him down on a clod of earth, in a ploughed field by

the side of the road. But Tom ran about amongst the furrows, and

at last slipped into an old mouse-hole. 'Good night, my masters!'

said he, 'I'm off! mind and look sharp after me the next time.'

Then they ran at once to the place, and poked the ends of their

sticks into the mouse-hole, but all in vain; Tom only crawled

farther and farther in; and at last it became quite dark, so that

they were forced to go their way without their prize, as sulky as

could be.