But Ulenspiegel, without waiting for them, gave ground towards that side of the brushwood where Lamme was hidden. Judging that the preachers were within musket range, he said:
“Crows, black crows, Lead-wind is about to blow. I sing for your finish.”
And he croaked.
A musket shot, from out of the brushwood, knocked over the tallest of the preachers with his face to the ground, and was followed by a second shot which stretched the second on the road.
And Ulenspiegel saw amid the brush Lamme’s good visage, and his arm up hastily recharging his arquebus.
And a blue smoke rose up above the black brushwood.
The third preacher, furious with rage, would fain by main force have cut down Ulenspiegel, who said:
“Steel-wind or Lead-wind, thou art about to go over from this world to the other, foul artificer of murders!”
And he attacked him, and he defended himself bravely.
And they both remained standing face to face stiffly upon the highway, delivering and parrying blows. Ulenspiegel was all bloody, for his opponent, a tough soldier, had wounded him in the head and the leg. But he attacked and defended like a lion. As the blood that flowed from his head blinded him, he broke ground continually with great strides, wiped it off with his left hand and felt himself grow weak. He was like to be killed had not Lamme fired on the preacher and brought him down.