Grumblegizzard set off from the grange, with his scrip on his back and his club on his shoulder. He lost no time on the way, but when he got there, Old Nick was gone to serve on a jury. There was no one at home but his mother, and she said she had never in her born days heard talk of any land-tax; he had better come again another day.
"Yes, yes! come to me to-morrow!" said Grumblegizzard. "That's all stuff and nonsense, for to-morrow never comes." Now he was there, he would stay there. He must and would have the land-tax, and he had lots of time to wait.
But when he had eaten up all his food, the time hung heavy, and so he went and asked the old dame to give him the land-tax. She must pay it down.
"No," she said, "she couldn't do it. That stood as fast as the old fir-tree," she said, "that grew outside the gate of hell, and was so big that fifteen men could scarcely span it when they held hands."
But Grumblegizzard climbed up to the top of it, and twisted and turned it about like an osier; and then he asked if she were ready with the land-tax.
Yes, she dared not do anything else, and found so many pence as he thought he could carry in his scrip.
And now he started for home with the land-tax; but, as soon as he was off, Old Nick came back. When he heard that Grumblegizzard had stridden off from his house with his big scrip full of money, he first of all beat and banged his mother, and then ran after him to catch him on the way.
And he caught him up too, for he ran light, and
