e.

'Not yet,' replied Petru stoutly, though cold shivers were running down
his back. 'What must come will come, whatever it is.'

'Don't be afraid,' said the horse. 'I will help you. Take the bridle
from my neck, and try to catch the Welwa with it.'

The words were hardly spoken, and Petru had no time even to unbuckle
the bridle, when the Welwa herself stood before him; and Petru could not
bear to look at her, so horrible was she.

She had not exactly a head, yet neither was she without one. She did not
fly through the air, but neither did she walk upon the earth. She had
a mane like a horse, horns like a deer, a face like a bear, eyes like a
polecat; while her body had something of each. And that was the Welwa.

Petru planted himself firmly in his stirrups, and began to lay about him
with his sword, but could feel nothing.

A day and a night went by, and the fight was still undecided, but at
last the Welwa began to pant for breath.

'Let us wait a little and rest,' gasped she.

Petru stopped and lowered his sword.

'You must not stop an instant,' said the horse, and Petru gathered up
all his strength, and laid about him harder than ever.

The Welwa gave a neigh like a horse and a howl like a wolf, and threw
herself afresh on Petru. For another day and night the battle raged more
furiously than before. And Petru grew so exhausted he could scarcely
move his arm.

'Let us wait a little and rest,' cried the Welwa for the second time,
'for I see you are as weary as I am.'

'You must not stop an instant,' said the horse.

And Petru went on fighting, though he barely had strength to move his
arm. But the Welwa had ceased to throw herself upon him, and began to
deliver her blows cautiously, as if she had no longer power to strike.

And on the third day they were still fighting, but as the morning sky
began to redden Petru somehow managed--how I cannot tell--to throw the
bridle over the head of the tired Welwa. In a moment, from the Welwa
sprang a horse--the most beautiful horse in the world.

'Sweet be your life, for you have delivered me from my enchantment,'
said he, and began to rub his nose against his brother's. And he told
Petru all his story, and how he had been bewitched for many years.

So Petru tied the Welwa to his own horse and rode on. Where did he
ride? That I cannot tell you, but he rode on fast till he got out of the
copper wood.

'Stay still, and let me look about, and see what I never hav