So he took up his fowling-piece, and fired, when down came the bird into the thorn bushes that grew at the foot of the tree. "I will pick it up and keep it for myself, as you have hit it," said the Turk; and, laying himself down upon the ground, he began to work his way into the bush. But as soon as he had got into the middle of it, a fit of wanton playfulness seizing Fritz, he took up his fiddle, and gave him a tune, and the Turk began to dance and spring about; and the more lively the fiddler scraped, the more lively grew the dance.
The thorns soon began to tear the Turk's shabby clothes, comb his goat's beard, and scratch and wound him all over. "Oh, dear!" cried he, "mercy, mercy, master! pray stop your fiddling! I do not want to dance." But Fritz paid no heed, and only struck up another tune, thereby making the Turk cut and caper higher than ever, so that pieces torn out of his clothes, hung about the thorn.
"Oh, mercy!" cried the Turk, "do stop your fiddling, master! I will give you whatever you ask, a bagfull of gold, if you only will!"
"Ah! if you are as generous as that," said the man, "I will put up my fiddle; but I must say you are a capital dancer." He then took the offered purse, put up his fiddle, and traveled onward.
The Turk stood still looking after his tormentor for some time, and when he was almost out of sight, began to cry as loud as he could, "You miserable fiddler! you ale-house scraper! take care, if I get hold of you I will make you take to your heels; you beggarly knave! you ragamuffin!" And he went on loading him with all manner of abuse.
After having thus given vent to his feelings, he went to the judge, saying, "See, your honor, how I have been robbed and ill-used by a rascal on the highway! the very stones might pity me. Do but look at the deplorable state I am in. My clothes are torn, my body is wounded and scratched; the little money I had is gone, purse and all! nothing but ducats, one piece finer than the other. For Heaven's sake, do have the fellow caught and imprisoned!"
The judge then asked him whether it was a soldier who had put him in that plight with his sword. "By no means," said the Turk; "he had no sword, but he had a fowling-piece hanging on his back, and a fiddle round his neck. The fellow may easily be recognized."
So the judge sent out his bailiffs in search of the man. They met the honest fellow walking slowly and carelessly on, and, on searching him, found the money-bag in question.
When he was taken before the judge he said, "I have not touched the Turk, nor have I taken away his money; he offered it me of his own free will, if I would but leave off playing the fiddle, as he could not bear my music."
"Not a word of truth in it!" cried the Turk, "those are bare-faced lies." And the judge not believing it either, said, "That is a very poor excuse;" and sentenced the poor man to the gallows for highway robbery.