“Young man,” he said sternly to Sunshine. “Is it indeed true that your brother is dead, and that there is now no strange youth in the cave of the hermit?”
“Have I not said it?” replied Sunshine impatiently. “Indeed, I know not which I wish the more—that I were dead beside my brother, or that he were here beside me to share my woe!” Then he wept aloud.
The captain hesitated, then he slowly turned his horse and bade his soldiers gruffly to proceed to the palace of the Khan.
Sunshine’s heart bounded with joy and relief for his brother, but he still continued to groan and lament, that the soldiers might be deceived.
It was a long distance to the Khan’s city, and by the time Sunshine and his cruel captors had reached the gates, the sun was setting. Now it happened that a young and beautiful daughter of the Khan was [[176]]at that moment sitting on the low roof of the palace, enjoying the cool twilight air. Looking down into the street below, she saw the line of soldiers riding by, with Sunshine in their midst, his head bowed and his hands bound behind him. He looked up, and his eyes met those of the princess. The light of the setting sun rested on his black hair; his face was pale, and his eyes big and sorrowful. Never, thought the princess, had she seen so beautiful a youth, and he, looking up at her as she leaned over the roof, thought she must be a daughter of the gods, so fair and lovely she was.
The princess made haste to inquire who the lad might be and soon learned that he was a strange youth condemned, because of the prophecy, to be thrown to the demon-bears on the morrow. Then she sought her father, the Khan, and kneeling before him, she entreated him to spare the life of this fair young stranger.
Now the Khan lived in daily dread that [[177]]the prophecy concerning an unknown young man would come true, so when his daughter urged him to spare this fellow who might be the very one foretold, he fell into a terrible rage. She, not seeing that her cause was hopeless, continued to beg her father for the young man’s life. At last the Khan’s temper broke all bounds. He summoned his soldiers and, pointing to the princess, cried:
“Take her away! She has more thought for this upstart stranger than for the safety and throne of her father! Take her away, I say, and cast her into a dungeon. And on the morrow choose two strong sacks; tie this strange youth into one of them, my daughter into the other; then cast both into the cave of the demon-bears!”
The princess, though she could have fainted from very terror, was too proud to show her fear, too noble to lament her life, so she silently allowed the rough soldiers to bind her hands and lead her away. [[178]]
At sunrise the next day everything was prepared as the Khan had ordered, and the two unfortunate young people were thrust into huge sacks which were tied about their necks. Then they were cast into an open, rocky cave by a river, where the demon-bears came daily to drink.