adopted son of Alten Chan. Mounting his grey
horse, he galloped up to the Swan Woman,
whom he belaboured, first with his whip,
afterwards with his sword, but ultimately both he and
his steed were slain by the reinvigorated lady.

Through his enormous journeys, the foal, who
left Kara Môs and the Swan Woman fighting,
had at length reached the extreme edge of the
earth, just where it joins the sky. Direct
progress being impossible, it followed the course of
the sun, which soon brought it back to the spot
whence it had first started. A sea of fire was
now before it, and in the midst of the sea a
small island, to which it at once proceeded,
and setting the boy safely on the ground,
changed itself into a girl, with long, luxuriant
tresses.

Tough as she was, the Swan Woman could
not stand fire so well as the foal, and therefore,
when, after despatching Kara Môs, she came to
the fiery sea, and, pulling off one of her boots,
tried with her toe the nature of the liquid, the
inquisitive member was at once burned off. The
island was clearly not to be reached either by
swimming or fording, but the enterprising dame
perceived a convenient rock midway between
the coast and the island. Upon this she leaped,
and when she had espied the long-haired girl
with the boy in her arms, another leap took her
into the island without a moment's delay.

The girl— that is to say, the foal— had now
no other resource but to change into a pike,
and to take the Hard Boy in her mouth to the
bottom of the sea, where she converted him into
white sand. As for herself, she took the form
of a golden duck, and swam quietly about upon
the fiery surface.

After searching the island for a long time to
no purpose, and burning off the tip of her little
finger by a new experiment on the nature of
the burning fluid, the Swan Woman burst into
tears, and returned to the earth with a flying
leap.

When she was fairly out of the way, the
golden duck— that is, the long-haired girl, that
is, the foal— fished the boy out of his hiding
place, and they both lived so well upon roast
birds, that, at the end of a year, the foal had
grown into a strong courser, and the boy into a
sturdy man.

On the last night of the year the boy slept
quietly, and when morning broke he stepped out
of his jurte, when behold! there was the whity-
blue steed, with a mane of gold, accoutred in
the most costly fashion. The saddle-bow
had been inscribed by Kudai with the name
Aidôlei (full moon), and this, therefore, was
the name that the young hero was destined to
bear.

Aidôlei commenced his new career with
becoming piety. On quitting the fiery sea, he
thanked it for delivering him from the Swan
Woman, and he likewise offered his devotions to
the sun, the moon, and Kudai. So swift was his
courser, that its hoofs never touched the grass,
but it ordered him to stop at a black rock, which
burst in pieces and liberated the boy of three
years, whose voice, calling on the Swan Woman,
was heard by Aidôlei.

["But I thought the boy of three years was
himself Aidôlei?" I dare say you did, dear reader,
and so did I. But let us go on, for it is hard
work, this telling of Tartar tales.]

The energies of Aidôlei were next employed in
the chase of a certain black fox, who, as his
horse informed him, was Ojendje Kara (the
sportive black), the youngest of the forty Swan
Women. The steed was so swift, that it
outstripped the fox by a day's journey, and the
hunter was forced to wait for the arrival of his
intended victim, who at last slipped into a black
rock, just as the horse was about to snap him
up with its teeth. Availing himself, however,
of a weighty copper staff that came conveniently
to hand, Aidôlei broke open the door of the black
rock, and was heedlessly about to enter, without
consulting his horse, when the wise beast
informed him, not without a mild reproof, that he
would first encounter two eagles, that another
door would bring him to two lions, a third to a
brace of black bears, and a fourth to a company
of thirty damsels, to whom he must not speak
a word, and whom he most certainly must not
take by the hand. Yes, reader, strange as it may
appear, thirty, not forty.

Aidôlei entered the rock on foot, and found
that his sagacious horse had been perfectly right
with respect to the eagles, the lions, and the
bears, who all shrank timidly as he approached;
but, notwithstanding this proof of his horse's
wisdom, he so far forgot lumself as to shake
hands with the thirty girls all round— yea, in
spite of the renewed admonitions of the horse,
who poked his nose through the door to repeat
his warnings.

Through that unlucky solution the thirty
damsels were at once conglomerated into one,
and the one almost as speedily became a wolf,
which at once flew at Aidôlei's steed. The rock
had vanished, the hero was ignobly seated on the
ground in the midst of a broad plain, and the
horse, to escape the wolf, leaped into a hole
which took him to the seventh stratum of the
earth. There, he found the boy of three years
old, and invited him to mount, but the boy
pointed to the wolf, and expressed his strong
suspicions that this must be the crafty Ojendje
Kara. He then seized the wolf by the tail, and
lashed it till it had resumed the shape of a
Swan Woman; and now began a wrestling-match
which lasted seven years, and ended in the death
of the Swan Woman, or, rather, of the whole
family of Swan Women, for it will be
remembered they were all conglomerated in the form
of Ojendje Kara.

The boy having furnished the horse with a
handsome saddle and bridle, was mounted on his
back, and went in search of Aidôlei. On his
way he was met by another horse, likewise of a
whity-blue colour, who greeted him as his
owner, and bore a saddle inscribed by Kudai
with the name Ai Mirgän. This, therefore,
was to be the name of the boy, who, quitting
Aidôlei's horse, sprang upon the steed awarded