When night came they retired, but he laid his drawn sword in the bed between them. The woman wondered at this, but he said he could not sleep, and arose and went to the window. At sight of the magic mountain he said, "Tell me, my dear little wife, why is that mountain in flames?" "For Heaven's sake," answered she, "did I not tell you that other evening of the peculiarities of that mountain?" "What do you mean?" he asked her again, and she answered, "Every one who goes there is enchanted and turned to stone. I was in great fear during your absence that you had gone there." When he heard this he guessed the trouble, and in his anxiety he could hardly wait for daybreak. As soon as it was light he mounted his horse, girded on his sword, called to his dog, and rode to the mountain. When he saw the old woman he drew his sword from the scabbard, spurred on his horse, and set the dog upon her without saying a word. The old woman fell back in a fury and called out to him not to cut her down. He answered, "Then give me back my brother!" Hereupon the old woman led his brother out and restored to him speech and soul. When the brothers had greeted each other, and asked after each other's health, they turned back homeward. But on the way the one who had been enchanted said, "O brother, come! Let us turn back and deliver those men from perdition--those who are enchanted as I was." No sooner said than done. They turn around, seize the old woman, snatch from her the little weed, and begin to strike the enchanted men with it, until by degrees all of them begin to speak and move. When all those enchanted ones had been called back into life they killed the old witch. The twin brothers went back to the King's palace and all the others to their houses. I have heard a lie, I have told a lie, and God give you joy! "Why do you say that, grandmother?" asked the little boy. "That is the way it ends," said the grandmother. CHAPTER XXII THE KOROWAI There were great doings in the little boy's house. Grandmother was standing at the long table beating up the dough of the korowai for the eldest sister's wedding, for grandmother was greatly skilled in the making of wedding-cakes. No part of the wedding-feast is so important as the korowai, and the little boy watched with great interest as she mixed together the flour and eggs and lard, the molasses and fruit, the saffron and the savory seeds that go to make korowai. He was surprised and somewhat disappointed when, instead of putting it into the oven to bake, she spread a cloth over the great bowl and set it on a chair by the stove. He was impatient to have it baked, it smelled so nice already! "Aren't you going to bake it, grandmother?" he asked. "Not just yet," she answered. "It must rise first." She went away to her room, giving strict injunctions to be called as soon as the dough was risen enough.