"Pray, who is your master? A fine gentleman must he be!"
"My master is the devil. Are you satisfied now? and do you feel respect for me?"
"That is a lie! for the devil is my master; and he told me that I was right: and, therefore, get off as quick as you can, or you shall see!"
So saying, they threw themselves upon each other; but the man of our village proved too strong for the other, to whom he gave such a blow on the mouth that his head flew off and rolled down the hill. The fiery man without a head quickly ran after it to catch it, and fix it on again; but he did not succeed in doing so before he arrived at the spot where the little brook, which flows down the hill, enters the Emse.
Meanwhile, our man, who gave the blow, looked from the hill how the other chased his own head, when on a sudden a third fiery man stood before him, who asked,
"What he had done there?"
"That is no concern of yours!" answered our man; "and, if you do not go your ways immediately, I'll treat you just as I have the other."
"Have you no more respect for me? and don't you know that I am your master, the devil?"
"And, if you are the devil himself, I care not a straw for you! Go to h—!"