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Then the bull changed into a man with an ax in his hands and began to chop down the tree. Gip, gop! Gip, gop! The chips flew and the branches trembled. Jean tried to remember the words that would turn the man back into a bull again, but he was so frightened he could not think of them. What he did remember, though, were the eggs the black man had given him.
Then Jean Malin dropped the second egg down on the man's left shoulder, and his left arm fell off. Now he had no arms, but he caught up the ax in his mouth and went on chopping, Gip, gop! Gip, gop! The whole tree shook and trembled. Then Jean Malin dropped the third and last egg down on the man's head, and at once his head fell off.
'Not a bit; but it isn't necessary. 'Not necessary? 'Oh no, it's not necessary. You need only take a sheet of paper and write at the top "A Ballad," then begin like this, "Heigho, alack, my destiny!" or "the Cossack Nalivaiko was sitting on a hill and then on the mountain, under the green tree the birds are singing, grae, voropae, gop, gop!" or something of that kind. And the thing's done.
He took one out of his mouth and dropped it down on the bull-man's right shoulder, and at once his right arm fell off, and the ax dropped to the ground. This did not trouble the bull-man, however. He caught up the ax in his left hand and chopped away, Gip, gop! Gip, gop! The chips flew faster than ever.
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