On the third day, as they approached the city they met a woman crying as if her heart must break. She told them that on the night before, her husband had been killed by some monster. She described the spot, near her dwelling, where she had found her husband, Methuson, dying on the roadside. "I ran to him," she said, "and held his head in my arms. His clothes were torn almost off his back. When I spoke to him, he opened his eyes and muttered something about a black beast, and then fell back senseless."
The men accompanied the poor weeping woman to her miserable hut, and as they stepped within and beheld Methuson and sniffed the odor of the place, they knew that the Hus was the beast that had done the deed.
Egkartes stooped and listened over the unconscious man's heart for some sign of life. In a few moments he rose to his feet, and turning to the wife, exclaimed: "Your husband is not dead!"
Sure enough the unfortunate fellow sat up. His eyes were red and inflamed, his temper was likewise fiery, for he broke into loud curses. But in a little while he recovered his reason and thanked his deliverers. Methuson begged to be allowed to accompany the band of Hus-hunters, and they readily gave their consent.
Toward evening of the next day, as they neared the City, they heard more news of the monster, who had been doing terrible damage to the people of the suburbs. Late that evening seven weary men crawled into beds in a very humble lodging-house.
As Egkartes felt himself slipping into a comfortable sleep, he was startled by the cry of a woman. He ran out to the house across the street, whence came the cry, and entered without knocking.
He found a mother holding her baby high up, while the awful Hus kept snapping at the child. A dozen men were in the room, sleeping off a debauch. Egkartes sprang at the monster, who seemed to recognize him, but without showing any fear, turned and coolly walked out of the house. It wounded the pride of the young champion to see the enemy treat him so indifferently. He returned to his men feeling disheartened. He could see no way of killing the monster. What could he do?
After many weeks of failure, Egkartes wandered to the king's garden and sat down near the entrance, where he found many other Greek youths who, like himself, aspired to the hand of the princess. They all knew that it was her daily custom to walk in the garden at sunset, and they were waiting to see her.
When the princess appeared, the young men stood up and humbly saluted her—all but Egkartes, who remained sitting.
She approached the gate, and looking earnestly into all the faces of the young men, paused for a moment, and threw down a rose. Then there was a wild scramble among the rival youths for possession of the flower, only a poor remnant of which finally remained in the hands of the strongest.