“I have come three days late,” said Togrul. “Blame, and punish me, Jamuka, my brother, until thou art satisfied.” The warriors went on now, crossed the Kilho to Buura where they seized all the people and with them the wife of the Merkit, Tukta Bijhi. Tukta Bijhi, who was sleeping, would have been captured had not his hunters and fishermen hurried on in the night time and warned him. He and Dair Usun, his brother, rushed away down the river to Bargudjin. When the Merkits were fleeing at night down along the Selinga, Togrul’s men hunted on fiercely and were seizing them. In that rushing crowd Temudjin shouted: “Bortai! O Bortai!” She was with the fleeing people; she knew Temudjin’s voice and sprang from a small covered cart with Hoakchin, the old woman. Running up, she caught Temudjin’s horse by the bridle. The moon broke through clouds that same moment, and each knew the other. Temudjin sent to Togrul without waiting. “I have found,” said he, “those whom I was seeking; let us camp now and go on no farther to-night.” They camped there. When the Merkits with three hundred men attacked Temudjin to take vengeance for snatching off Chilaidu’s wife, Hoelun, Tukta Bijhi, the brother of Chilaidu, with two other leaders rode three times round Mount Burhan, but could not find Temudjin, and only took Bortai. They gave her as wife to Chilger, a younger brother of Chilaidu, the first husband of Hoelun, Temudjin’s mother. (This Chilaidu was perhaps Temudjin’s father.) Now, when a great army was led in by Togrul and Jamuka, Chilger was cruelly frightened. “I have been doomed like a crow,” said he, “to eat wretched scraps of old skin, but I should like greatly the taste of some wild goose. By my offenses against Bortai I have brought evil suffering on the Merkits; the harm which now has befallen them may crush me also. To save my life I must hide in some small and dark corner.” Having said this he vanished. Haätai Darmala was the only man captured; they put a kang on his neck and went straight toward Mount Burhan. Those three hundred Merkits who rode thrice round Mount Burhan were slain every man of them. Their wives, who were fit to continue as wives, were given to new husbands; those who should only be slaves were delivered to slavery. “Thou, O my father, and thou my anda,” said Temudjin to Togrul and Jamuka, “Heaven through the aid which ye gave me has strengthened my hands to avenge a great insult. The Merkits who attacked me are extinguished, their wives are taken captive, the work is now ended.” That same year Bortai gave birth to her first son, Juchi, and because of her captivity the real father of Juchi was always a question in the mind of Temudjin.