"I should like to enter your service," were his words.
"Well," replied she, "what wages do you ask?"
"The horse which you keep under-ground."
"You shall have him if you serve faithfully; if you fail however once only, you shall be put to death."
"Very well."
"With me,"—these were witch Iron-nose's last words,—"with me the year's service consists of only three days; you may begin your service at once. You will attend to my stud in the meadow, and if in the evening a single one is missing, you die."
She then led him to the stable. The horses were all of metal, neighed terribly, and made the most surprising leaps.
"Attend to your business," said Iron-nose, and then locked herself in her apartment. Argilius opened the covered enclosure, threw himself on one of the metal horses and rushed out with the whole troop. They were no sooner on the meadow, when the horse on which he rode threw him into a deep morass, where he sank up to the breast. The whole troop scattered themselves here and there, when Argilius stuck the little staff his brothers-in-law had given him into the ground, and at once the sun's rays struck with such heat on the morass, that it dried up instantly, and the metal horses began to melt, and ran terrified back to the shed. The witch was very much surprised when she saw they were all driven in again. "To-morrow you must tend my twelve coursers," said she; "if you are not home again with the last rays of the sun, you die: they are more difficult to manage than the metal horses."
"Do your duty," said Argilius, "I shall do mine."
The twelve coursers soon ran all different ways. Argilius set his staff in the ground, and a fearful storm arose. The wind blew against every horse, and let them rear and prance as they would, the wind got the better of them, and they were all obliged to return to their stable. Argilius immediately shut the stable door, and at that moment the last rays of the sun went down just as Witch Iron-nose reached the stable. She was quite astonished when she saw the horses and Argilius.