He travelled for a long time, inquiring about it of every one he met; but nobody had ever heard of such a mountain; and he began to give up all hope of ever finding it.
Late one evening he saw a twinkling light before him, which he followed, in the hope of coming to some habitation. It led him on a long way, across level plains, through deep defiles, and at length some way into a dark forest. But at last he came to whence the light proceeded—from a solitary hermitage.
He went in; but found the hermit lying dead, with six wax candles burning around him. He had evidently been dead for some time. Yet there seemed to be nobody near him, nor any inhabitants at all in this desolate region.
The prince's first thought was how to get him buried, and with proper rites, when there was no priest—nor indeed any people at all—to be found in the neighbourhood.
While he was thinking over this, something fell from a peg in the wall, close beside him; it was a leather whip.
The prince took it up, and read on the handle these words:
"The Magic Whip."
As he knew its virtue, he called out:
"Ho! Magical Whip!
To right and left skip!
And do what I will!"
The whip jumped from his hand, became invisible, and flew away.