When the Emperor saw his great army thus miserably perishing he cried aloud, “Let us beat a retreat! It is the judgment of God upon us for undertaking to make war upon the beasts. Let them keep my kidnapped daughter, in Heaven’s name!”
Immediately the army wheeled about to retreat, but even on that side the earth gave way beneath their feet.
“God is punishing us already,” cried the Emperor in despair, “by causing the earth to swallow us up! Oh, why, then, does He slay us with stones and rocks from the sky?”
The confusion was universal; every one was pushing and crowding his neighbor; and so the Emperor’s whole army melted away.
After a time the Fox removed his residence to Stamboul and began to rule there, and the Beg gave up hunting and went also to Stamboul to be near his Fox. There, with his wife, whom no one again dared to kidnap, he lived in joy and peace until his blessed end.
The little boy had left his stool and was standing near his grandmother, his eyes shining in the darkness. When she stopped speaking he drew a long breath.
“That was a good Fox, grandmother,” he said. “I should like to know that Fox.”
[1] Kumrikusha is from a Slavonic root signifying “the bird of the desert.”