He put her on the ground.
“Now, good youth, sit thou on my back; do not spare me.”
He sat on her back and pressed her to the ground; she began to swell, and swelled until she was as big as a stack of hay. The sharpshooter’s one care was to keep from falling. “If I fall,” thought he, “I shall be crushed.” The frog cleared the flaming river at a jump, became small as before, and said: “Now, good youth, I will wait here; but do thou enter that door in the mountain. Thou wilt find a cave,—hide thyself well. After a time two old men will come in: listen to what they say, and watch what they do; when they are gone, act as they did.”
The sharpshooter entered the door of the mountain; it was so dark in the cave that if a man strained his eyes out he could not see a thing. Fedot felt around and found a cupboard, crept in. After a while two old men entered and said, “Shmat-Razum, feed us!”
That moment, however it happened, the lamps were lighted, the dishes and plates rattled, and various kinds of food and wine appeared on the table. The old men ate and drank, and then ordered Shmat-Razum to remove everything. Everything disappeared in a flash; neither table, nor food, nor wine, nor lights remained. The two old men went out.
The sharpshooter crawled from the cupboard and cried, “Hei, Shmat-Razum!”
“What dost thou wish?”
“Feed me!”
Again the lights, the table, the food and drink appeared as before. Fedot sat at the table and said: “Hei, Shmat-Razum, sit down brother, with me, we’ll eat and drink together; it is irksome for me alone.”
The voice of the unseen answered: “Oh, kind man! whence has God brought thee? It is nearly thirty years that I serve these old men in faith and in truth, and all this time they have never once seated me with themselves.”