One morning, when matters were in this position, Haymon went to the stables as usual with a feed of oats for his favourite horse; but the stall was empty, the good steed Bayard was gone. Haymon was in despair. He was just considering whether it was worth while carrying on such a hopeless war, when his cousin Malagis, a small, insignificant-looking man with a long beard, came to him, and told him that he knew for certain that the devil had carried off the horse, and had hidden it in Mount Vulcanus, which is near the mouth of hell. He further promised to go and fetch it, in spite of all difficulties. Then, without waiting for a word of thanks or warning, the little man turned, and left the count. When he got outside the castle gate, Malagis pulled a small bag of powdered hellebore from his pocket. He sprinkled a good deal of it in the air, and the wind carried it over the besieger’s camp. A general fit of sneezing suddenly infected the whole army. While the men-at-arms were thus sneezing, and calling out, “God bless you!” to each other, Malagis quietly walked through their lines, and pursued his journey to Mount Vulcanus. He reached the foot of the great mountain in safety, and saw smoke and flames issuing from its top. He at once went in search of the ruler of the world of fire, greeted him courteously, and introduced himself as a great necromancer, who had come to offer his valuable services to his Satanic majesty. The devil answered sarcastically, that he was accustomed to hear the followers of the black art vaunt their powers and wisdom, but as he was curious to see what the stranger could really do, he would give him a chance of showing off. “You must know, fellow,” he continued, “that I have always hitherto ridden on the storm-wind, but I find that too great an exertion now. I am grown too old for that sort of thing, so I looked out for a good horse, and managed to find one fleet enough to satisfy me. I therefore took possession of it, and brought it here. I thought that I should now be able to ride through the world of men more at my ease than before; but,” and here he sighed deeply, and blue flames issued from his mouth as he did so, “if I were not the devil myself, I should say that that horse was an incarnation of Satan, he will not even let me mount him. I have therefore put him into the volcano, hoping to tame him in that manner. I have kept awake for months to look after this work myself, but hitherto without effect. Will you take my place while I enjoy a little nap?” “Well spoken, great king,” said Malagis, “but should I not be able to watch the effect on the horse better if I were close to it? Let me therefore beg you to withdraw the fire and smoke for a few minutes, that I may go down into the heart of the mountain, and enter upon my duty. Perhaps, also, the horse may be more easily induced to obey, if he gets a breath of fresh air.”