Onward, and ever onward, flew the Mogol Bird, feeding on the beef and drinking the water from Ivan's cap, which he extended at the point of his lance, until all the meat and water were finished, whereupon the Tsarevich threw the keg overboard.
"O Mogol Bird," he said, "haste to finish your journey, for there is no more beef and there is no more water."
"I cannot go down to earth in this spot," said the bird, "for beneath us there is nothing but a bog like glue. And I must have more meat. If you cannot get beef, veal will do." So Ivan cut off the calves of his own legs, and when the bird had refreshed itself it flew on till it came to a green meadow with tall silken grass and blue flowers. Here it flew down to earth, and Ivan alighted, but, of course, walked very lame.
"What makes you halt, Ivan Tsarevich?" asked the Mogol Bird, and when the young man told what he had done the bird blew upon the back of his legs and restored him to his former condition.
On went the young man, eager to finish his quest, until he came to a great town, where he entered a narrow street and found an old woman in a poor, mean house, who seemed to be expecting him.
"Go to bed and sleep soundly after your flight, Ivan," she said, "and when the bell rings I will call you."
The young man lay down and slept soundly, so soundly that when the bell rang for early morning prayers not all the calling nor all the shaking, nor all
