In the Wölfragrond they had placed a cross in a niche that had been carved into a tree. One day, the cross suddenly disappeared.
This happened at the time when the Anabaptists were living on the Damien farm between Ellingen and Erpeldingen. Among them there was an old fellow who had made a pact with the Devil. No one trusted him, and it was he who had taken the cross away.
Once, a man from Wellenstein was on his way and wanted to pass by the swamp in the Wölfragrond. There in the middle of the swamp he saw a big dog. The animal’s eyes shone like two burning coals, and it whimpered so pitifully, as if it were nailed there by its tail. It was as black as coal.
The man went closer. Hardly had he stepped onto the marshy ground when it began to flare up beneath him. He did not let this drive him back. He came from Wellenstein and had perhaps had a glass to drink, but he was by no means drunk. He went nearer, even if it should turn out to be the Devil himself.
“If it is the Devil himself,” he said, “then you will at least have seen him.”
It grew ever more terrible around him. There were flashes, and sparks flew in all directions. He stood still. Nothing had harmed him yet. He moved forward again, trying to free the dog.
Then suddenly a man called down from a tree above:
“Grab hold!”
At that, the dog seized him like a vice.
“Tear him down!” the voice from above cried.
And my poor man was thrown to the ground so hard that his ribs cracked inside him.
“Through steel and iron!” exclaimed the chief.
The poor man clung to a tree as thick as a man’s arm. But alas, he was torn away; his left arm remained hanging, and he himself was hurled a good ten ells across the swamp. From that day on he wished never again to set eyes on the Devil.
Many others later passed by that place; few went unscathed, especially when the old Anabaptist bore them ill will. For he was in league with the Black One. The old pastor that Ellingen had often spoke of it, but he was just as powerful as the Anabaptist, and the Devil could do nothing to him.