“Yes, such a fix that you’ve never known anything half so awful, even when soldiering.”
“What must I do then, grandfather?”
“Why this. Provide yourself with a bridle, and take a thick aspen cudgel, and sit quietly in the izba—don’t stir a step anywhere. During the night she will come running in, and if she manages to say before you can ‘Stand still, my steed!’ you will straightway turn into a horse. Then she will jump upon your back, and will make you gallop about until she has ridden you to death. But if you manage to say before she speaks, ‘Tprru! stand still, jade!’ she will be turned into a mare. Then you must bridle her and jump on her back. She will run away with you over hill and dale, but do you hold your own; hit her over the head with the aspen cudgel, and go on hitting her until you beat her to death.”
The Soldier hadn’t expected such a job as this, but there was no help for it. So he followed his grandfather’s advice, provided himself with a bridle and an aspen cudgel, took his seat in a corner, and waited to see what would happen. At the midnight hour the passage door creaked and the sound of steps was heard; the witch was coming! The moment the door of the room opened, the Soldier immediately cried out—
“Tprru! stand still, jade!”
The witch turned into a mare, and he bridled her, led her into the yard, and jumped on her back. The mare carried him off over hills and dales and ravines, and did all she could to try and throw her rider. But no! the Soldier stuck on tight, and thumped her over the head like anything with the aspen cudgel, and went on treating her with a taste of the cudgel until he knocked her off her feet, and then pitched into her as she lay on the ground, gave her another half-dozen blows or so, and at last beat her to death.
By daybreak he got home.
“Well, my friend! how have you got on?” asks his grandfather.
“Glory be to God, grandfather! I’ve beaten her to death!”
“All right! now lie down and go to sleep.”