Now Ilya, from force of habit and long practice, slept always with one ear open, and he knew also that it was a fatal mistake to lose his calmness, especially when others about him had lost their own. So he turned slowly on his couch and said quietly, "Climb up into the damp oak, young Yermak, and make an effort to number the host which comes against us by counting the standards which are displayed." So Yermak climbed up into the damp oak, and Ilya turning upon his other side went to sleep once more. From his perch in the damp oak Yermak saw a vast host of the Golden Horde, and how at that moment the leaders were marshalling their men in battle array; and he knew that the shaking of the bough on which he sat came from the trembling of moist Mother Earth at the tramp of their myriad feet. So great was the army that the swift grey wolf could not trot round it in the space of a long spring day; the black raven could not fly about it in the longest day of summer; the grey bird could not wing its flight across it in the longest light of autumn. Now Yermak had in him some of the qualities of a hero, for the size of the host roused his courage to such a height that he felt impelled to advance against it by himself, single and alone. So he leapt quickly from the damp oak, sprang upon his charger, and rode fiercely across the open steppe against the vanguard of that great host. Meanwhile the game of draughts went quietly on in the fair pavilion of white linen, and Ilya slept. For three days and three nights this went on while Yermak hurled himself again and again against the forefront of the Golden Horde. Then Ilya awoke and said to Nikitich: "Mount into the damp oak, young man of supernatural wisdom. Perhaps young Yermak has fallen down from the branch for no longer do I see him there." Then Nikitich climbed up into the tree-top and looked out upon the Golden Horde. He saw the vast host and he saw more than that--not the black raven flying, nor the bright falcon soaring, but that heroic youth galloping boldly against the heathen horde; and he made his report to Ilya, who rose deliberately from his couch: "Rise, ye draught players, and mount your good steeds. Then in the first place let one of you take grappling hooks and catch young Yermak by the shoulders. Say to him when he is stayed in his headlong flight, 'Thou hast breakfasted to-day. Now let the heroes dine.'" So one of the company went out with strong grappling irons. Thrice he caught Yermak by the shoulders and thrice did the young man break away, rending his chain mail in the action. Then the messenger returned to report his failure and Nikitich made the attempt with as little success. So Ilya went himself. He sat on Cloudfall as the grandfather of all the oaks stood upon the lap of moist Mother Earth, and caught Yermak by the shoulder with his heroic hand saying to him, "Rest your heroic heart and let us labour now."