‘Die, then,’ said the son.
‘Well, then, take it,’ said the old hag, ‘and be off with you, but you must make haste with the water.’
He put on the cloak, and when he came outside it shone so bright that he could see to go with it. On reaching the river he went to take a drink like his sister, but at that moment Ring and Snati sprang upon him, took the cloak from him, and threw him into the river.
The old hag could stand the thirst no longer, and asked her husband to go for a drink for her; the brats, she said, were of course running about and playing themselves, just as she had expected they would, little wretches that they were.
‘I won’t go,’ said the old troll, ‘unless you lend me the gold chess-board.’
‘Though I should die you shan’t have that,’ said the hag.
‘I think you may just as well do that,’ said he, ‘since you won’t grant me such a little favour.’
‘Take it, then, you utter disgrace!’ said the old hag, ‘since you are just like these two brats.’
The old troll now went out with the gold chess-board, and down to the river, and was about to take a drink, when Ring and Snati came upon him, took the chess-board from him, and threw him into the river. Before they had got back again, however, and up on top of the cave, they saw the poor old fellow’s ghost come marching up from the river. Snati immediately sprang upon him, and Ring assisted in the attack, and after a hard struggle they mastered him a second time. When they got back again to the window they saw that the old hag was moving towards the door.
‘Now we must go in at once,’ said Snati, ‘and try to master her there, for if she once gets out we shall have no chance with her. She is the worst witch that ever lived, and no iron can cut her. One of us must pour boiling porridge out of the pot on her, and the other punch her with red-hot iron.’