rams,
and one ram was just like another. The man stared and stared, but he
could not pick out his son. "Thou mayst as well go home then," said
Oh, "but thy son shall live with me yet another year." So the man went
away, sad at heart.

The third year also passed away, and the man came again to find Oh.
He went on and on till there met him an old man all as white as milk,
and the raiment of this old man was glistening white. "Hail to thee,
O man!" said he.--"Hail to thee also, my father!"--"Whither doth God
lead thee?"--"I am going to free my son from Oh."--"How so?"--Then
the man told the old white father how he had hired out his son to Oh
and under what conditions.--"Aye, aye!" said the old white father,
"'tis a vile pagan thou hast to deal with; he will lead thee about
by the nose for a long time."--"Yes," said the man, "I perceive that
he is a vile pagan; but I know not what in the world to do with him.
Canst thou not tell me then, dear father, how I may recover my
son?"--"Yes, I can," said the old man.--"Then prythee tell me,
darling father, and I'll pray for thee to God all my life, for
though he has not been much of a son to me, he is still my own flesh
and blood."--"Hearken, then!" said the old man; "when thou dost go to
Oh, he will let loose a multitude of doves before thee, but choose
not one of these doves. The dove thou shalt choose must be the one
that comes not out, but remains sitting beneath the pear-tree pruning
its feathers; that will be thy son." Then the man thanked the old
white father and went on.

He came to the charred stumps. "Oh!" cried he, and out came Oh and led
him to his sylvan realm. There Oh scattered about handfuls of wheat
and called his doves, and there flew down such a multitude of them
that there was no counting them, and one dove was just like another.
"Dost thou recognize thy son?" asked Oh. "An thou knowest him again,
he is thine; an thou knowest him not, he is mine." Now all the doves
there were pecking at the wheat, all but one that sat alone beneath
the pear-tree, sticking out its breast and pruning its feathers. "That
is my son," said the man.--"Since thou hast guessed him, take him,"
replied Oh. Then the father took the dove, and immediately it changed
into a handsome young man, and a handsomer was not to be found in the
wide world. The father rejoiced greatly and embraced and kissed him.
"Let us go home, my son!" said he. So they went.

As they went along the road together