It must have been about fifty years before the beginning of our era that King Hă-bu-ru sat upon the throne of North Pu-yŭ. His great sorrow was that Providence had not given him a son. Riding one day in the forest he reached the bank of a swift rushing stream and there dismounting he besought the Great Spirit to grant him a son. Turning to remount he found the horse standing with bowed head before a great boulder while tears were rolling down its face. He turned the boulder over and found beneath it a child of the color of gold but with a form resembling a toad. Thus was his prayer answered. He took the curious child home and gave it the name Keum-wa or “Golden Toad.” Soon after this the kingdom removed to East Pu-yŭ, or Tong Pu-yŭ, somewhere near the “White Head Mountain,” known as Păk-tu San. Arriving at the age of manhood, Keum-wa looked about for a wife. As he was walking along the shore of U-bal-su (whether river or sea we do not know) he found a maiden crying. Her name was Yu-wha, “Willow Catkin.” To his inquiries she replied that she was daughter of the Sea King, Ha-băk, but that she had been driven from home because she had been enticed away and ravished by a spirit called Ha-mo-su. Keum-wa took her home as his wife but shut her in a room to which the sun-light had access only by a single minute aperture. Marvelous to relate a ray of light entered and followed her to whatever part of the room she went. By it she conceived and in due time gave birth to an egg, as large as five “measures.” Keum-wa in anger threw it to the pigs and dogs but they would not touch it. Cattle and horses breathed upon it to give it warmth. A stork from heaven settled down upon it and warmed it beneath her feathers. Keum-wa relented and allowed Yu-wha to bring it to the palace, where she wrapped it in silk and cotton. At last it burst and disclosed a fine boy. This precocious youth at seven years of age was so expert with the bow that he won the name of Chu-mong, “Skillful Archer.” He was not a favorite with the people and they tried to compass his death but the king protected him and made him keeper of the royal stables. Like Jacob of Holy Writ he brought his wits to bear upon the situation. By fattening the poorer horses and making the good ones lean he succeeded in reserving for his own use the fleetest steeds. Thus in the hunt he always led the rout and secured the lion’s share of the game. For this his seven brothers hated him and determined upon his death. By night his mother sought his bed-side and whispered the word of warning. Chu-mong arose and with three trusty councillors, O-i, Ma-ri and Hyŭp-pu, fled southward until he found his path blocked by the Eum-ho River. There was neither boat, bridge nor ford. Striking the surface of the water with his bow he called upon the spirit of the river to aid him, for behind him the plain smoked with the pursuing hoof-beats of his brothers’ horses. Instantly there came up from the depths of the river a shoal of