II
The old Devil was annoyed that the three brothers had not quarrelled over the matter and had parted in peace. He summoned three little Devilkins.
“There are three brothers,” he said, “Simon the Warrior, Taras the Pot-bellied, and Ivan the Fool. I want them all to quarrel and they live in peace and goodwill. It is the Fool’s fault. Go to these three brothers, the three of you, and confound them so that they will scratch out each others’ eyes. Do you think you can do it?”
“We can,” they said.
“How will you do it?”
“We will ruin them first,” they said, “so that they have nothing to eat, then we will put them all together and they will begin to fight.”
“I see you know your work,” the old Devil said. “Go then, and do not return to me until you have confounded the whole three, or else I will skin you alive.”
And the Devilkins set out to a bog to confer on the matter, and they argued and argued, for each wanted the easiest work, and they decided to cast lots and each to take the brother that fell to him, and whichever finished his work first was to help the others. And the Devilkins cast lots and fixed a day when they should meet again in the bog, in order to find out who had finished his work and who was in need of help.
The day arrived and the Devilkins gathered together in the bog. They began to discuss their work. The first to give his account was the one who had undertaken Simon the Warrior. “My work is progressing well,” he said. “To-morrow Simon will return to his father.”
“How did you manage it?” the others asked him.