I find them,' answered the king, 'and nothing shall I get
for all my trouble.'

'Oh, take heart,' replied the hawk, 'things are never so bad but what
they might be worse. Eat and sleep and I will watch thee,' and the king
did as he was bidden by the hawk, and by the morning he felt brave
again.

'Farewell,' said the bird, 'and if danger presses call to me, and I will
help you.'

On he walked, and on, and on, till as the dusk was falling he came to a
great river, and on the bank there were sticks lying about.

'I will make myself a fire,' he thought, and thus he did, and by and bye
a smooth brown head peered at him from the water, and a long body
followed it.

'Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when they passed the
river last night,' said the otter.

'I have sought them and not found them,' answered the king, 'and nought
shall I get for my trouble.'

'Be not so downcast,' replied the otter; 'before noon to-morrow thou
shalt behold thy wife. But eat and sleep and I will watch over thee.' So
the king did as the otter bid him, and when the sun rose he woke and saw
the otter lying on the bank.

'Farewell,' cried the otter as he jumped into the water, 'and if danger
presses, call to me and I will help you.'

* * * * *

For many hours the king walked, and at length he reached a high rock,
which was rent in two by a great earthquake. Throwing himself on the
ground he looked over the side, and right at the very bottom he saw his
wife and his horses. His heart gave a great bound, and all his fears
left him, but he was forced to be patient, for the sides of the rock
were smooth, and not even a goat could find foothold. So he got up
again, and made his way round through the wood, pushing by trees,
scrambling over rocks, wading through streams, till at last he was on
flat ground again, close to the mouth of the cavern.

His wife gave a shriek of joy when he came in, and then burst into
tears, for she was tired and very frightened. But her husband did not
understand why she wept, and he was tired and bruised from his climb,
and a little cross too.

'You give me but a sorry welcome,' grumbled he, 'when I have half-killed
myself to get to you.'

'Do not heed him,' said the horses to the weeping woman, 'put him in
front of us, where he will be safe, and give him food for he is weary.'
And she did as the horses told her, and he ate and rested, till by and
bye a long shadow fel