The mother and the griffin were carousing as before, for they did not expect that he would ever return—and there he was just outside. They were terribly frightened, and considered how they could get rid of him.
"You must pretend to be sick still, and tell him you won't recover unless you get the Pelican bird, and he will perish on the quest," said the griffin.
Víťazko brought the water joyfully, but the mother was still groaning and complaining; even that was no good, she was sure she was going to die.
"Ah! don't die, sweet mother. Tell me what will cure you, and I shall be glad to get it all for you," said the good lad.
"There is no help for me unless I can see the Pelican bird. Where could you get it for me?" groaned the mother.
Víťazko took his beech again, and it was no trouble to him to go to Holy Sunday once more.
"Where are you going?" asked Holy Sunday.
"Well, I am coming to you to ask for advice. Mother is still sick; the water did not cure her either, and she says she must
