And so saying he came down into the valley, stumbling as if he had been a drunken man; and he began to sing, hiccuping all the time, staggering from side to side, yawning, spitting, and then standing still and pretending to be sick. But all the time he was keeping his eyes wide open, and peering this way and that, for he had heard the sharp sound as of a wolf howling. Then, as he stood there vomiting like a dog, he descried the long outline of a wolf moving towards the cemetery in the bright light of the moon. At that he lurched on again, and came into the path between the hedges of broom. There he pretended to fall down, and as he did so, he placed his trap upon the side from which the wolf was coming. Then he loaded his crossbow, and went forward about ten paces, standing up again in a drunken posture. He still went on staggering to right and to left, nor did he cease to retch and to hiccup, but all the time his mind was taut as a bowstring, and he was all eyes and ears for what might be going to happen. Yet he saw nothing save the dark clouds racing in the sky, and again that large and heavy form of blackness coming down the path towards him. Neither did he hear aught but the dismal wailing of the wind, and the angry thunder of the sea, and the sound that the shells on the path gave forth beneath a heavy step that tapped upon them. Feigning to be about to sit down, Ulenspiegel fell forwards on to the path, very heavily like a drunken man. After that he heard as it were a piece of iron clinking close to his ear, and then the sound of the trap shutting, and a human voice that cried out in the darkness. "The werwolf," said Ulenspiegel to himself. "He's got his front paws caught in the trap. Now he is howling and trying to run away, dragging the trap with him. But he shall not escape." And he drew his crossbow and shot an arrow at the legs of the werwolf. "He's wounded now," said Ulenspiegel, "and he has fallen down." Thereupon he whistled like a seagull, and straightway the church bell clanged out from the village and a boy's shrill voice was heard crying from afar off: "Awake! Awake, you sleepers! The werwolf is caught." "Praise be to God," said Ulenspiegel. Now the first to arrive on the scene of the capture were Toria the mother of Betkin, and Lansaen her husband, and her two brothers Josse and Michael. And they brought lanterns with them. "You have caught him?" they asked. "Look on the path," answered Ulenspiegel. "Praise be to God," they exclaimed, crossing themselves. "Who is it that is calling out the news in the village?" asked Ulenspiegel. "It is my eldest boy," Lansaen answered. "The youngster is running through the village knocking on all the doors and crying out that the wolf is caught. Praise be to thee!" "The ashes beat upon my heart," answered Ulenspiegel. Suddenly the werwolf began to speak: "Have mercy on me! Have mercy, Ulenspiegel!"