Then Nikitich sprang to his nimble feet, saddled and mounted his good steed, and rode forth to the place where a great river met the dark-grey sea. As he looked along the straight road he saw a rider before him who sat upon his horse with the assurance of youth and victory. His black steed was full of mettle and fresh from the untamed steppe. At each leap he covered a furlong, and the marks which the hoofs of his horse made upon the bosom of moist Mother Earth were as large as a ram or a full-grown sheep. Flames flashed from the mouth of the steed, lighting up the heavy clouds which hung over the dark-grey sea, sparks of blue fire showered from his nostrils, and from his erected ears smoke curled in tiny wreaths which quivered and then vanished in mid-air. The helmet on the head of the hero glowed like fire, and blue rays of light darted from ornaments on his doublet, from his pointed spurs and his stirrups of bright steel. At his left stirrup ran a swift grey-hound, and a fire-eating dragon was chained to the right which sang and whistled with a strange music as the horse and its rider passed on towards the dark-grey sea. From shoulder to shoulder hopped the clear-eyed bird from which Falcon the Hunter took his name, and as it passed it plucked at the long yellow locks of the rider, which streamed upon his shoulders like tongues of living flame. The knight sat easily upon the back of his strange steed, and as he rode he amused himself by hurling his bright steel mace towards the lowering clouds which hung threatening over the dark-grey sea. It flashed across the cloudy barrier, making a bright reflection in the heaving water, and then returned obedient to the hand of Falcon the Hunter without touching either sea or land in its flight. As he played, Falcon the Hunter spoke to his wonderful mace: "Lightly as I now whirl this mace aloft, even so lightly will I twirl Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck." Then Nikitich called out, "Ho, there, Falcon the Hunter! Have you no fear of our barrier?" Falcon replied over his shoulder, "'Tis not for youths even of supernatural wisdom to pursue me in the open plain. It is high time that you were hiding from me in the deep depths of a feather-bed." When Falcon the Hunter spoke, the waters of the sea were troubled, flecks of foam appeared upon the deep, and the shallows were choked with sand. The charger of Nikitich trembled sorely and fell down upon its knees, while its rider sank upon the bosom of moist Mother Earth, where he lay as if in a trance for the space of three full hours. When he awoke, the sun was shining brightly, the waves upon the ocean danced in glee, and the tumbled rack of grey clouds on the horizon was all dispersed and scattered. But Falcon the Hunter was no longer to be seen, for with all his terrors he was afraid of the jolly sun with his broad and welcoming smile.