"Ready!"
"Go there, I know not where; bring something, I know not what."
In less than a minute the hunter heard the money chinking in his pocket; gold poured into them, he knew not how nor whence.
"Thanks! you have kept your word," said the hunter.
He then began to bargain with the gipsy for the horse. Having agreed upon the price, he paid the man in gold, who, staring at the hunter with his mouth wide open, wondered where Huntsman the Unlucky had got so much money from. Parting from the hunter, the gipsy-thief ran with all his speed to the farther end of the forest, and whistled. There was no answer. "They are asleep," thought the gipsy, and entered a cavern where some robbers, lying on the skins of animals, were resting themselves.
"Halloa, comrades! Are you asleep?" cried the gipsy. "Get up, quick! or you will lose a fine bird. He is alone in the forest, and his pockets are full of gold. Make haste!"
The robbers sprang up, mounted their horses, and galloped after the hunter.
The hunter heard the clatter, and seeing himself suddenly surrounded by robbers, cried out,—
"Murza!"
