“Why are you doing that?” inquired Dyeermud.
“For fear that you might escape; for it’s our duty to eat you.”
Dyeermud then seized by the ankles the one who gave him this answer, and flailed the others with this man, till he wore him down to the two shin-bones; all the others were killed saving one, who was chief. The small chief untouched by Dyeermud fell on his knees, and cried out, “Spare my head! O Dyeermud, there is not a place where you will put one foot, in which I will not put my two feet, nor a place on which you’ll put one hand, in which I will not put my two hands; and I can be a good servant to you.”
“No man ever asked his head of me with peace, but I gave it to him,” said Dyeermud.
Sitting down then, Dyeermud asked, “Have you any food?”
“I have not,” said the small chief. “We have nothing to eat but men sent here from one time to another. If you go to the king’s bakery, you may find loaves of bread.”
Dyeermud went to the baker, and asked, “Will you give me two loaves of bread?”
“Hardened ruffian,” said the baker, “how dare you come to this place for bread, or any other thing, you who killed so many of our friends and near neighbors? Go out of this, or I’ll burn you in the oven.”