“Then stir not. Look neither to the right nor left, nor up nor down, for I am going to leap over the mountain, and if my leap is broken by so much as a hairbreadth, we will both fall into the flames, and that will be the end of us.”
When Conn-eda heard this, fear seemed to clutch at the very heart of him, but he settled himself in the saddle, and when the horse leaped, he kept in mind what had been said to him, and looked neither to the right hand nor the left, nor up nor down, nor stirred so much as a hairbreadth in his seat.
The good steed carried him over, but they were not so high above the mountain but what the flames came up and licked Conn-eda’s feet and his clothing.
“Are you still alive, Conn-eda?” asked the steed, when they alighted upon the other side of it.
“I am just alive, and no more,” replied Conn-eda, “for I am greatly scorched.”
“That is both well and ill,” said the horse. “Well that you are still alive, and ill that you are so sore burned. Take the flask and rub some of the heal-all that is in it on your burns, and they will pass away.”
This Conn-eda did, and at once his burns disappeared as though they had never been there, and his flesh and skin were all well and sound again.
“The worst of our dangers are over now,” said the shaggy black horse, “but other things are still to be done that you may find hard in the doing. Now mount and ride again, and I can tell you we are not far from the palace of the Water King, whither we would be going.”
Conn-eda mounted again, and on they rode and fast they went, and then they came within sight of a castle, with shining domes and turrets, and great golden gateways.
Here the shaggy steed bade the Prince again light down.