Welwa?"

"Now let me alone! But listen; look at the flowers and gather none of
them, keep quiet." Having said this the horse went on at a walk. Petru
knew by experience that he would do well to heed the bay's advice. So
he turned his thoughts away from the flowers. But it was all in vain!
If one is unlucky, he can't get rid of his ill-fortune even if he
tries with all his might. The flowers still offered themselves to him,
and his heart grew weaker and weaker.

"Come what may," said Petru after a while, "I shall at least see the
Welwa of this wood, that I may know what the monster is like and with
whom I have to deal. If I am fated to die by its hands, it will kill
me in some way, and if not I shall escape, though there should be
hundreds and thousands like it." Then he began to pull off the
flowers.

"You have done wrong!" said the bay anxiously. "But as the thing has
happened it can't be changed, so gird yourself and prepare to fight,
for here is the Welwa."

The bay had scarcely spoken and Petru had hardly twined his wreath,
when a light breeze blew from all quarters of the compass and soon
rose to a gale. The gale increased until everywhere there was naught
save gloom and darkness, gloom and darkness. The ground under Petru's
feet trembled and shook, till he felt as though somebody had taken the
world on his back and was dragging it away at full speed.

"Are you afraid?" asked the bay, shaking its mane.

"Not at all," replied Petru, summoning up his courage, though chills
were running down his back. "If a thing must be, all right; let it be
as it is."

"You need not fear," replied the bay, to encourage him. "Take the
bridle from my neck and try to catch the Welwa with it."

The horse had just time to say this and Petru had not even a chance
to unfasten the bridle properly, when the Welwa stood before him, a
monster so frightful, so terrible, that he could not look at it. It
has no head, yet it is not headless, it does not fly through the air,
yet neither does it walk on the earth. It has a mane like the horse,
horns like the stag, a face like the bear, eyes like the polecat, and
a body that resembles every thing except a living being! Such was the
Welwa which rushed upon Petru.

Petru rose in his stirrups and began to strike, sometimes with his
sword, sometimes with his arm, till the perspiration ran down his body
in streams.

A day and night passed away; the battle was not yet decided.

"Stop, so tha