“My good man,” he said, “it is cold and I am but poorly clad; but methinks you have too much about you. Give me some of your wool, that I may get a cloak made for me. I am a Beggarman. Long live the Beggarmen!” The tall evangelist made answer:
“You cock of a Beggarman, you carry your crest proudly forsooth, and we are going to cut it off for you!”
“Cut it off then,” cried Ulenspiegel, giving ground, “but let me warn you that trusty Wind of Lead is going to sing for you or ever he sings for the Prince my master! Beggar I am! Long live the Beggarmen!”
The three evangelists were astounded and cried out to each other: “How does he know? We are betrayed! Kill him! Long live the Mass!” And each man drew forth from beneath his hose a sharp dagger. But Ulenspiegel, without waiting for them to attack him, gave ground towards the bushes where Lamme was hidden, and when he judged that the three evangelists were within range of the arquebus, he cried out: “Crows, black crows, the Wind of Lead is going to whistle. I sing your bitter end!”
Then he cawed like a crow. And a shot rang out from the bushes, and the tall evangelist fell prone on the earth. The next moment followed a second shot, which accounted in the same way for the second.
And from among the bushes Ulenspiegel saw the jolly face of Lamme, and his arm raised as he hastily reloaded his arquebus. And from the midst of the dark shrubbery a puff of blue smoke mounted into the air.
There now remained but one evangelist, and he was in a furious rage, and tried to cut at Ulenspiegel with all his might. But Ulenspiegel cried:
“Wind of Steel or Wind of Lead, which matters it? Either way you shall quit this world for another, you shameless murderer!”
And he attacked the foe and defended himself most bravely. So they stood on the roadway, inflexible, face to face, giving and parrying blows. Now Ulenspiegel was covered with blood, for his opponent was an experienced fencer, and had wounded him on the hands and on the legs. But Ulenspiegel attacked and defended himself like a lion. Still the blood which began to flow from his head blinded him, and he retreated continually, trying to wipe away the blood with his left hand but every moment feeling weaker. And he would most certainly have been killed had not Lamme brought down the third evangelist with another shot from his arquebus.
And Ulenspiegel saw him fall, and heard him vomit forth blasphemies and blood, and the white froth of death. And once again the blue smoke drifted up above the dark shrubbery, in the midst of which Lamme displayed yet again his jolly face.