asked the old man. "Nothing but melting snow and moist land," said Svyatogor, "too moist indeed for the feet of my steed. But stay, I did meet with some one of note, and I have brought him with me."
The old man quickly raised his head, but the movement was merely one of habit, for his eyes were sightless. Sadly he dropped his chin once more upon his breast, and said, "Bring to me the hero of Holy Russia that I may greet him."
In the meantime Ilya had found a piece of iron, and having also found a furnace near the gate-way, he quickly made the iron red-hot. Then he grasped the glowing metal in his hand and went forward to greet the blind father of his friend. The old man held out his hand, but Ilya did not clasp it. He placed in its palm the red-hot iron which the old man grasped as if it had been the hand of a friend returned after a long journey. As he felt its burning glow he said, "Thy hands are the hands of a hero, O Ilya, son of strength. Now you are indeed worthy to become the younger brother of Svyatogor. Come within the palace of white stone and rest until the call comes, which comes to all true men of deeds, to sally forth upon yet another journey of adventure."
So Ilya and his elder brother went into the palace of white stone and rested as long as they could, which was not really long, for one morning the sun shone and each found the other at the gate looking with longing eyes upon the world.
Now as he looked outward, Ilya saw to his surprise and pleasure that a horse was feeding near
