again the youth walked on for a long while and said, "may god have pity on the poor soul!" then he came to a pit by which stood a knacker who was cutting up a horse. the youth said, "good morning; god have pity on the poor soul!" "what dost thou say, thou ill-tempered knave?" and the knacker gave him such a box on the ear, that he could not see out of his eyes. "what am i to say, then?" "thou must say, ‘there lies the carrion in the pit!’"