At a little distance from Baal Mountain, in the parish of Filkestad, in Willand's Harad, lies a hill where, formerly, lived a giant named Stompe Pilt. It happened one day, that a Goatherd came that way, driving his goats before him, up the hill.
" Who comes there ?" demanded the Giant, rushing out of the hill, with a large flint stone in his fist, when he discovered the Goatherd.
" It is I, if you will know," responded the Herder, continuing his way up the hill with his flock.
" If you come up here I will squeeze you into fragments as I do this stone," shrieked the Giant, and crushed the stone between his fingers into fine sand.
" Then I will squeeze water out of you as I do out of this stone," replied the Herder, taking a new-made
cheese from his bag and squeezing it so that the whey ran between his fingers to the ground.
" Are you not afraid ? " asked the Giant.
" Not of you," replied the Herder.
" Then let us fight," continued Stompe Pilt.
" All right," responded the Goatherd, " but let us first taunt each other so that we will become right angry, for taunting will beget anger and anger will give us cause to fight."
" Very well, and I will begin," said the Giant.
" Go ahead, and I will follow you," said the Herder.
" You shall become a crooked nose hobgoblin," cried the Giant.
" You shall become a flying devil," retorted the Herder, and from his bow shot a sharp arrow into the body of the Giant.
" What is that ? " inquired the Giant, endeavoring to pull the arrow from his flesh.
" That is a taunt," replied the Herder.
" Why has it feathers ? " asked the Giant.
" In order that it may fly straight and rapidly," answered the Herder.
" Why does it stick so fast ? " asked the Giant.
" Because it has taken root in your body," was the answer.
" Have you more of such ? " inquired the Giant.
" There, you have another," said the Herder, and shot another arrow into the Giant's body.
"Aj! aj!" shrieked Stompe Pilt; "are you not angry enough to fight ? "
" No, I have not yet taunted you enough," replied the Herder, setting an arrow to his bowstring.
" Drive your goats where you will. I can't endure your taunting, much less your blows," shrieked Stompe Pilt, and sprang into the hill again.
Thus the Herder was saved by means of his bravery and ingenuity.