e seen
before,' said Petru again to his horse. For in front of him stretched a
forest that was far more wonderful, as it was made of glistening trees
and shining flowers. It was the silver wood.

As before, the flowers began to beg the young man to gather them.

'Do not pluck them,' warned the Welwa, trotting beside him, 'for my
brother is seven times stronger than I'; but though Petru knew by
experience what this meant, it was no use, and after a moment's
hesitation he began to gather the flowers, and to twist himself a
wreath.

Then the storm wind howled louder, the earth trembled more violently,
and the night grew darker, than the first time, and the Welwa of the
silver wood came rushing on with seven times the speed of the other.
For three days and three nights they fought, but at last Petru cast the
bridle over the head of the second Welwa.

'Sweet be your life, for you have delivered me from enchantment,' said
the second Welwa, and they all journeyed on as before.

But soon they came to a gold wood more lovely far than the other
two, and again Petru's companions pleaded with him to ride through it
quickly, and to leave the flowers alone. But Petru turned a deaf ear
to all they said, and before he had woven his golden crown he felt that
something terrible, that he could not see, was coming near him right out
of the earth. He drew his sword and made himself ready for the fight. 'I
will die!' cried he, 'or he shall have my bridle over his head.'

He had hardly said the words when a thick fog wrapped itself around
him, and so thick was it that he could not see his own hand, or hear
the sound of his voice. For a day and a night he fought with his sword,
without ever once seeing his enemy, then suddenly the fog began to
lighten. By dawn of the second day it had vanished altogether, and the
sun shone brightly in the heavens. It seemed to Petru that he had been
born again.

And the Welwa? She had vanished.

'You had better take breath now you can, for the fight will have to
begin all over again,' said the horse.

'What was it?' asked Petru.

'It was the Welwa,' replied the horse, 'changed into a fog 'Listen! She
is coming!'

And Petru had hardly drawn a long breath when he felt something
approaching from the side, though what he could not tell. A river, yet
not a river, for it seemed not to flow over the earth, but to go where
it liked, and to leave no trace of its passage.

'Woe be to me!' cried Petru, fr