Da hab' ich sie gesehen
Zum allerletzten Mal."
That struck Peter's ear instantly, and springing up he rushed hastily out of the house, ran after the three men, and seized the singer roughly by the arm. "Stop, friend," cried he, "what was your rhyme for stehen? Be so kind as to recite what you sang."
"What's the trouble with you, young fellow?" retorted the singer. "I can sing what I please, so let go of my arm, or----"
"No, you must tell me what you sang!" shouted Peter, taking a firmer grip on his arm. The two others did not hesitate long on seeing this but fell upon Peter with their hard fists and gave him such a beating that he was forced to let go his hold on the first man and sank exhausted to his knees. "You have got your share now," said they laughing, "and mind you, stupid fellow, never to jump upon people again on the highway."
"Oh, I will surely take care!" replied Charcoal Pete sighing; "but now that I have had the blows, be so good as to tell me plainly what it was that man sang."
They began to laugh again, and made sport of him; but the one who had sung the song repeated it to him, and laughing and singing they continued on their way.
"Also gesehen," said the beaten one, as he raised himself up with some difficulty; "gesehen rhymes with stehen. Now then, Little Glass-Man, we will speak a word together." He went back to the hut, took his hat and stick, and bade farewell to the inmates of the hut, and started on his way back to the Tannenbuehl.
He walked on slowly and thoughtfully, for he had a line to make up; finally as he came into the neighborhood of the Tannenbuehl, and the pines grew taller and thicker, he had completed the verse, and in his joy made a leap into the air. Just then appeared a man of giant size, who held in his hand a pole as long as a ship's mast. Peter's courage failed him as he saw this giant walking along very slowly near him; for, thought he, that is none other than Dutch Michel. But the giant remained silent, and Peter occasionally took a half-frightened look at him. He was fully a head taller than the largest man Peter had ever seen; his face was neither young nor old, and yet full of lines; he wore a linen jacket, and the enormous boots drawn over the leather breeches, Peter recognized from the legend he had heard the night before.
"Peter Munk, what are you doing in the Tannenbuehl?" inquired the King of the Wood, in a deep threatening voice.