The monks of Engelberg, unable to use their pastures themselves, or to derive any income by renting them out to others, finally sold them for a mere song to the people of Uri. The latter, thrifty in the extreme, could not bear the thought that the fine grass on the Sürenenalp was going to waste, so they tried various devices to kill or capture the demoniacal sheep. Weapons, prayers, and exorcisms proving equally unavailing, they finally bespoke the good offices of a travelling scholar, who had studied the Black Art under no less capable an instructor than Satan himself.
After sundry liberal potations of the warm southern wine brought by the Urners from Italy over the famous St. Gothard and Furka passes, and after duly securing a pocketful of gold, the magician gave the people minute directions, assuring them that if carefully carried out they would settle the obnoxious sheep for ever.
By his directions, the Urners selected a snow-white bull, which was fed with the milk of one cow during the first year, and with that of two during the second. Increasing the rations of this animal at the rate of a cow per year, the bull in the ninth year was consuming the entire produce of nine cows, and had grown to a prodigious size.
The ninth year ended, a virgin from Attinghausen, carefully arrayed in bridal white, was told to lead the chosen bull to the Sürenenalp. Her little hand passed through the ring set in the bull’s nose, this maiden slowly wended her way up the mountain, followed by the bull, which obeyed her slightest touch. When they reached the choicest pasture, the maiden suddenly let go her charge, for the monster sheep stood very near and about to attack her. At the same moment the bull thundered past her with lowered horns, and rushing toward the christened sheep began a terrible fight. The mountain shook and groaned beneath the trampling feet of the animals, which wrestled together with locked horns, while black clouds loomed up over the pasture, blotting out the bright sunshine, and making the air oppressively hot and close.
The darkness soon grew so intense that the people in the valley could no longer distinguish either trembling maiden or struggling monsters. All at once a dazzling flash of lightning rent the black clouds asunder, and it was instantly followed by a peal of thunder so loud and prolonged that the peasants, ducking their heads between their knees in terror, tightly closed their eyes.
When they again ventured to look up, they fairly gasped with amazement, for the blue sky again arched above the alp, the storm clouds were rapidly drifting away, and golden sunbeams flooded the spot where bull and sheep had met.
No trace of cattle or maiden being visible, the peasants, after some hesitation, timidly ventured up the mountain to see what had become of both. On the grass they found a bloody and trampled mound of flesh, which upon investigation proved to be the remains of the accursed sheep, but the maiden had vanished for ever, leaving no trace. On the banks of the Aawasser, quite near its source, they further discovered the body of the snow-white bull, which, having drank too greedily of the ice-cold waters while overheated from his exertions, had met with a sudden but natural death.
Since then, the place where the bull expired has been known as the Bull’s Stream, or the Steersbrook, and cows, sheep, and goats have feasted unmolested upon the luscious pastures on the Sürenenalp. Besides, in grateful recognition for the white bull’s services, the people of Uri placed his head upon a shield, decreeing that ever after the head of a bull should grace the official seal of the canton of Uri and form its sole coat of arms.
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At the northern extremity of the canton of Uri, and at the point where the Lake of Lucerne makes a sudden southward bend, rises the Seelisberg, renowned alike for its beautiful scenery and rich pastures. Here once dwelt a peasant who, having won the good-will of the mountain dwarfs, often received their help. The herdsman, in return for their favours, lavished upon them the best of all he had, and when called away by urgent business, often left them in charge of châlet and herd.