"Ho, ye robber horde! Why kill an old man and rob him? I have no money in my wallet save five hundred roubles. The cross of gold upon my breast is worth only five hundred--to any one of your company--my cloak of sables about three thousand, my cap and my sandals about five hundred each, my bridle, set with precious stones, about a thousand. My saddle, bordered with eagle feathers,--I hunted that eagle over the blue sea on the way to the palace of grey stone--is priceless and therefore of no value to any of your company. Between the ears of Cloudfall and under his eyes are clear stones of purest jacinth, but he wears these, not for youthful vanity, but because they help him to see for thirty miles on all sides as he bounds across the open steppe. As for my faithful shaggy bay steed Cloudfall, he is worth nothing at all, except to me. Here then is my inventory. Value me I pray you for yourselves." The robber leaders jeered as they replied, "Thou art old and talkative, Cossáck. Since we took to roaming across the white world, we have never met with such a fool. Why, thou art so foolish that thou hast told us all the clear truth. Seize the old man, my brothers." But as the robbers advanced upon him, Ilya of Murom drew a fiery dart from his quiver, and fixing it to his terrible bow shot at a tree to his right hand which was the grandmother of all the oaks. The mighty trunk was shivered into fragments, and the earth was ploughed up round about by the force of that tremendous blow, at the sound of which all the robbers fell flat upon the earth, where they lay for the space of five hours before they recovered themselves. And when they arose again to an erect posture the leader said: "Good youth, noble hero of Holy Russia! Enter thou into comradeship with us. Take from our goodly store whatever pleases you of golden treasure, embroidered cloth, horses and cattle." But Ilya laughed the jolly laugh of the adventurer to whom goods and gear, however rich, are a trouble and a burden. "Ah, brothers, my brave foes," he said, "I have no wish to be troubled with guarding treasure, feeding horses, and tending cows and sheep. I must ride and ride ever onward across the open steppe and leave the guarding of treasure to shop-keepers and merchants who live in towns behind bolts and bars." Then Ilya of Murom turned Cloudfall in his tracks, and came again to the burning white stone, from which he erased the inscription and wrote in its place: I, Ilya of Murom the Old Cossáck, have ridden straight forward and have not gained my death.