It happened one day, that a Goatherd came that way, driving his goats before him, up the hill.
“Who comes there?” demanded the Giant, rushing out of the hill, with a large flint stone in his fist, when he discovered the Goatherd.
“It is I, if you will know,” responded the Herder, continuing his way up the hill with his flock.
“If you come up here I will squeeze you into fragments as I do this stone,” shrieked the Giant, and crushed the stone between his fingers into fine sand.
“Then I will squeeze water out of you as I do out of this stone,” replied the Herder, taking a new-made cheese from his bag and squeezing it so that the whey ran between his fingers to the ground.
“Are you not afraid?” asked the Giant.
“Not of you,” replied the Herder.
“Then let us fight,” continued Stompe Pilt.
“All right,” responded the Goatherd, “but let us first taunt each other so that we will become right angry, for taunting will beget anger and anger will give us cause to fight.”
“Very well, and I will begin,” said the Giant.