le he, too, yielded up his life
to the sword of the seer.

The seer bound the dead king to his horse and with a cut of the whip
started the horse homewards.

Then the seer hid himself again under the bridge and he and his man
lay there in wait until the third evening.

On the third evening just at sunset the youngest king came galloping
home on the flaming steed. He was hurrying fast because he had been
delayed. But when he saw red blood at the bridge he stopped short and
looked around.

"What audacious villain," he cried, "has dared to kill a man in my
kingdom!"

Hardly had he spoken when the seer stood before him with drawn sword
demanding satisfaction for the insult of his words.

"I don't know how I've insulted you," the king said, "unless you're
the murderer."

When the seer refused to parley, the king, too, drew his sword and
defended himself.

To overcome the first two kings had been mere play for the seer, but
it was no play this time. They both fought until their swords were
broken and still victory was doubtful.

"We shall accomplish nothing with swords," the seer said. "That is
plain. I tell you what: let us turn ourselves into wheels and start
rolling down the hill and the wheel that gets broken let him yield."

"Good!" said the king. "I'll be a cartwheel and you be a lighter
wheel."

"No, no," the seer answered quickly. "You be the light wheel and I'll
be the cartwheel."

To this the king agreed. So they went up the hill, turned themselves
into wheels and started rolling down. The cartwheel went whizzing into
the lighter wheel and broke its spokes.

"There!" cried the seer, rising up from the cartwheel. "I am victor!"

"Not so, brother, not so!" said the king, standing before the seer.
"You only broke my fingers! Now I tell you what: let us change
ourselves into two flames and let the flame that burns up the other
be victor. I'll be a red flame and do you be a white one."

"Oh, no," the seer interrupted. "You be the white flame and I'll be
the red one."

The king agreed to this. So they went back to the road that led to the
bridge, turned themselves into flames, and began burning each other
mercilessly. But neither was able to burn up the other.

Suddenly a beggar came down the road, an old man with a long gray
beard and a bald head, with a scrip at his side and a heavy staff in
his hand.

"Father," the white flame said, "get some water and pour it on the red
flame and I'll give yo