The following day the lad again went hunting. The witch said to the giant:
“Can you not devise some means to destroy my stepson? By Heaven, I will destroy you this time if you do not tell me how to destroy him.”
“Your stepson is brave,” answered the giant, “he is a unique hero, and no one can kill him but yourself.”
“How! how!” exclaimed the witch with great joy, “tell me and I will do it.”
“Do you not remember the three red hairs among his black hairs on his head? As soon as they are picked, your son dies.”
On the following day the witch said to the lad:
“Come, son, lay your head in my lap and take a nap.”
The lad did so and soon slept. The witch immediately took hold of the three red hairs and picked them out. A spasm or two, and the hero died.
“Now, giant,” said the witch, “take that sword and chop this corpse into small pieces.”
“Not I,” answered the giant, “my hand will not be lifted to chop such a hero.”