After a little time the king sent for Naznai again, and said to him, "My dear son-in-law, Hero Naznai, three _narts_ [giants] have invaded my kingdom and are harassing my people with their raids: to-morrow you must go out against them." Again Naznai's heart sank within him, and he ran home. At midnight he fled a second time from the city, took refuge in the same forest as before, and, climbing up the very same tree, went to sleep. When it began to grow light he looked down, and there were the three narts, who, having hoppled their horses and turned them out to graze, were themselves resting under the tree. Naznai's soul went down into his very toes: he almost fell from the tree in a swoon. Suddenly one of the narts said to another, "Now that the king has in his service the hero Naznai, who kills five hundred at a blow, we must be more careful than we have been, and not turn our horses out in this way to graze."--"We have never been afraid of any living thing yet," rejoined the other: "are we going to let him scare us?" This led to a dispute which ended in a quarrel, and the three narts all killed one another. Then Naznai climbed down out of the tree, cut off their heads, stripped them of their clothes and weapons, which he loaded upon two of their horses, and, mounting the third, rode back to the city. Throwing down the heads before the king, he said, "Then those are your narts? We should have called them orphan children in our Daghestan. What was the use of sending a man after them? Women would have done as well." The king was surprised, so were all the people.