AT REUT, a village between Unken and Lofer, lived a peasant who had three sons. The two eldest of these were hardy gazelle hunters, and feared God as little as they did the dangers of the mountains; but the youngest was better, and different from his brothers; he took interest in the farm, though now and then he was induced by them to accompany them to the chase. So it happened once that he went with them to the high mountains, and on a Sunday they were already standing high on the peaks when the day dawned, and at that moment they heard the Angelus ringing from the village of Unken. The younger huntsman implored his brothers to return, so that they might be in time for church; but as they would not go, he did not go either.
As they mounted higher and higher they heard the mass bells ringing at Unken; the youngest brother said, “Let us go back.” But the others jeered at him and said, “The whistle of a gazelle is more to our taste than the mass bells and sermon.” When the enthusiastic huntsmen had arrived on the very top of the mountain, the bells rang again, and the youngest brother said, “Listen, there is the elevation, we ought to have been there.”
But his brothers sneered at him, and replied, “A fat gemsbock here is much more to our mind than the body of the Lord in the village church below.” These words were scarcely out of their mouths, when clouds as black as ink enveloped the mountains, and everything became dark as night; then came on a thunderstorm, as though the world was at its end. After the storm was over the three brothers were found on the peak of the mountain, turned into stones in the form of gigantic rocks, and there they still stand, known to every little Tyrolian child under the name of “the Three Brothers.”