the generals, and the people both great and small, came forward to meet him, bringing with them bread and salt, and taking the young hero by the hands welcomed him to the town of Chernigov, and treated him with the greatest possible respect.
On the following day Elie Muromitch left the wonderful town of Chernigov, and rode along the black earth of Smolensk, towards the sacred city of Kiev. On, on he rode until he came to a dark and dreary forest, far more gloomy than the others, in which lay the impassable road. Along this dangerous path Elie Muromitch the valiant hero rode; he approached a cluster of nine old oak-trees, in the midst of which the celebrated robber, the Nightingale Thief had built his hut, or nest, as it was called. When the Nightingale Thief heard the trampling of horse's hoofs, he at once commenced whistling; first he imitated the sound of the nightingale, then he hissed like a serpent, and lastly roared like a wild bull.
When Elie's horse heard all these sounds, he began to stumble and grow nervous; he tried to turn back, but his rider whipped him on, but on reaching the Nightingale Thief's nest the animal fell on his knees.
"Oh! you son of a wolf!" exclaimed Elie Muromitch. "You bag full of grass! Have you not been into white-walled caverns? Have you not ridden through dark and dreary forests? Have you never before heard the singing of a nightingale, the hissing of a serpent, or the roar of a wild bull?"
Still the horse would not move. The Nightingale
