the poor fellow, from very weariness, threw away the bewitched weapon, in the name of the Evil One, and went his way without it.
But he had not ridden above a quarter of a mile thus unspeared, when looking carelessly about him, lo and behold, there lay his spear beside him; sadly he was frightened at the sight, and little did he know what to make of it. At last he boldly ventured to lay hands upon it; he did so, and lifted up the spear, though he knew not how to carry it. To rest it on the earth, he had no longer any desire; the thoughts of carrying it on his shoulders, made him shudder; nothing therefore remained but to hold it in his hand, so that it would drag after him along the ground.
But, fresh troubles here arose; it weighed so heavily that he could not stir a foot from the spot, and though he tried first one hand and then the other, he found no difference, it still kept up the same tune. At last, he bethought him of another fashion, that is to say, to ride upon it, as a child bestrides a stick; and in this manner it went on as if it had been greased, that is to say, he ran away with all speed, felt no sense of weariness, and thought no otherwise than that he had a good fleet horse under him. Thus mounted he rode forth without ceasing, until he descended from the mountain into the city, and excited the wonder, delight, and laughter of the worthy burghers.
Although the messenger had endured some trouble in the early part of his journey, he was at all events at the close amply compensated, and then he even comforted himself still more, by making up his mind that in all future journeys, which he was destined to perform, he would for the better performance bestride his nimble spear.
