To which the boatman made answer:
“What are you croaking there between your teeth, great block of fat?
At this Lamme fell into a rage, crying:
“You are no Christian to make mock of my infirmity. My fat is my own, let me tell you, and is the result of the good food I eat, whereas you, old bag of bones that you are, you have never lived upon aught better than smoked herrings and old candle-wicks if one may judge anything from the lean flesh that shows through the tears in your measly hose.”
“Ee—aw! Ee—aw!” cried the boatman, and Lamme would have got down from his donkey to collect stones to throw at him had not Ulenspiegel said him nay.
The boatman now began to whisper something into the ear of the lad who was still “ee—awing” at his side, and a moment later the lad unfastened a little boat which lay by the side of the big one, and with the end of the boat-hook shoved himself cleverly off towards the river-bank. When the boy was quite close to the bank he drew himself up proudly and threw down this challenge:
“My master wants to know if you will have the courage to come on to his boat and join with him in a battle of fist and feet. And these good men and women shall be the arbiters.”
“Certainly,” said Ulenspiegel in a dignified tone of voice.
“We accept the challenge,” said Lamme haughtily.
It was midday. The workmen who laboured on the dike and the road-menders and the builders of ships were about to take their repast of beans and boiled beef which had been brought them by their women-folk or their children. All these, then, who stood around began to laugh and to clap their hands at the prospect of a fight, looking forward with joy to the chance of seeing the head of one of the combatants broken, or his body thrown in pieces into the river.