In the course of a week Naznai was summoned to the king, and found him sitting on his throne surrounded by a great multitude of people. "My dear son, Hero Naznai," said the king, "I gave you my daughter and made you my son with the hope that when a black day should come upon me you would give me your help. The black day has come: a great dragon gives no peace to my flocks and my herds. Twice every year, at certain known times, he makes his appearance: to-morrow is the day of his coming. You must go out to meet him: who should go if not you, the killer of five hundred men at a blow?" No sooner did Naznai catch the word "dragon" than his heart sank within him, and hardly had the king finished speaking when he ran furiously out of doors. Some said that he had turned coward: others said, "No: he ran out filled with rage against the dragon." In the mean time Naznai had gone home; and that night, as soon as his wife fell asleep, he took to his heels to save his head. He ran and ran and ran until he was so tired that he could run no farther, and at last came to a great forest. Fearing to sleep on the ground, he climbed up into a tree, and, holding fast to a limb with each hand, he fell asleep. When he awoke he looked down, and there, coiled around the trunk of the tree and fast asleep, lay the dragon. Overcome with terror, Naznai lost his hold, fell from the tree and came down plump on the dragon's back. The dragon thought that God in His wrath had struck him with lightning: his heart burst and he gave up the ghost. Naznai started to run, but, looking over his shoulder, he saw that the dragon did not move. Then he knew that it was dead, and going back he cut off its head and went with it to the king. "Then that is what you call a dragon, is it?" he demanded: "in our Daghestan we have cats like that. Why didn't you send some of your children after him, and not give me so much trouble?" The king could think of nothing to say, and so was left with his mouth open.