hing necessary and went
into the garden. But he succeeded no better than his brother, for he
could not resist the desire to sleep, and when he awoke the apple was
no longer there.

When his father asked him how it disappeared, he replied, "No one took
it, it vanished of itself."

"Now, my dearest one, take your turn," said the king to his youngest
son; "although you are young, and have less experience than your
brothers, let us see if you cannot succeed where they have failed. If
you are willing, go, and may God help you."

Towards evening, when it began to be dusk, the youngest son went into
the garden to keep watch. He took with him a sword and crossbow, a few
well-tempered arrows, and a hedgehog's skin as a sort of apron, for he
thought that while sitting under the tree, if he spread the skin over
his knees, the pricking of the bristles on his hands might keep him
awake. And so it did, for by this means he was able to resist the
drowsiness that came over him.

At midnight Ohnivak, the bird of fire, flew down and alighted upon the
tree, and was just going off with the apple when the prince fixed an
arrow to his bow, and letting it fly, struck the bird under the wing.
Although wounded, it flew away, dropping one of its feathers upon the
ground. That night for the first time the apple remained untouched
upon the tree.

"Have you caught the thief?" asked the king next day.

"Not altogether, but no doubt we shall have him in time. I have a bit
of his trappings." And he gave the king the feather, and told him all
that had taken place.

The king was charmed with the feather; so lovely and bright was it
that it illumined all the galleries of the palace, and they needed no
other light.

The courtiers told the king that the feather could only belong to
Ohnivak, the bird of fire, and that it was worth all the rest of the
royal treasures put together.

From that time Ohnivak came no more to the garden, and the apples
remained untouched. Yet the king could think of nothing else but how
to possess this marvellous bird. At last, beginning to despair of ever
seeing it, he was filled with melancholy, and would remain for hours
in deep thought; thus he became really ill, and every day continued to
grow worse.

One day he summoned his three sons before him and said, "My dear
children, you see the sad state I am in. If I could but hear the bird
Ohnivak sing just once I should be cured of this disease of the heart;
otherwi