Well, they walked and walked till they reached a dark, dense forest. In it they found a small path, and along it they went—along the narrow path. They walked and walked along the path, and at last they saw a large cottage standing before them. It was night; there was nowhere else to go to. “Look here,” they say, “let’s go into that cottage.” In they went. There was nobody there. All looked bare and squalid. They sat down, and remained sitting there some time. Presently in came a tall woman, lank, crooked, with only one eye.
“Ah!” says she, “I’ve visitors. Good day to you.”
“Good day, grandmother. We’ve come to pass the night under your roof.”
“Very good: I shall have something to sup on.”
Thereupon they were greatly terrified. As for her, she went and fetched a great heap of firewood. She brought in the heap of firewood, flung it into the stove, and set it alight. Then she went up to the two men, took one of them—the Tailor—cut his throat, trussed him, and put him in the oven.
Meantime the Smith sat there, thinking, “What’s to be done? how’s one to save one’s life?” When she had finished her supper, the Smith looked at the oven and said:
“Granny, I’m a smith.”
“What can you forge?”
“Anything.”
“Make me an eye.”