existence legions of mountaineers and barbarians, of tribes dwelling on the borders of Hindustan and far beyond. They fell, in their myriads, with chariots, horses and elephants, on Viswamitra's army, which shrivelled and perished in a moment before that dread onslaught.
Beholding this dire overthrow with amazement and grief, the hundred sons of Viswamitra rushed fiercely on the sage. But against him their valour was of small avail; one cry he uttered, one glance he sped, and straightway they fell before him, burnt to ashes.
In woe unspeakable Viswamitra fled from the disastrous combat; and now began the long struggle in which he sought to attain to powers which would give him equality with his erstwhile host and now hated foe. He delivered his kingdom to his one surviving son, and then betook himself to the life of a hermit, hoping by dreadful austerities and mortification of the flesh to win the power of vengeance. With this intent, on the slopes of snow-crowned Himalaya, he sought by stern ascetic practice to honour the grim deity, Siva, also called Mahadeva—the Great God—who loves the Abode of Snow.
When many days had thus passed, Mahadeva, rider on the snow-white bull, appeared to him and asked what boon he would gain.
"Give me," cried Viswamitra, "the wondrous science of the bow, and command over every mystic weapon wielded by gods and demons, saints and sprites!"
His prayer was granted; and Viswamitra, trium-
