"Do not beat me," he said, "and I will do for you anything you wish."
"What will you do for me?"
"Say what you want!"
Iván scratched himself.
"My belly aches,—can you cure me?"
"I can," he said.
"Very well, cure me!"
The devil bent down to the furrow, scratched awhile in it, pulled out a few roots,—three of them in a bunch,—and gave them to Iván.
"Here," he said, "is a root, which, if you swallow, will make your ache go away at once."