Prince Ivan took the fleetest horse in the imperial stables, and rode on and on for many days. At last he came to a bare field set in the midst of fair green meadows, and in the center of this stood a block of rough gray stone. Inscribed upon the stone in crimson letters was a strange verse:
“Hungry and cold shall that man be
Who rides in pride straight up to me.
To ride from the left means death and sorrow,
Though his horse shall live for many a morrow.
He who rides from the right shall have good things all,
But ere three days pass his horse shall fall!”
Prince Ivan was greatly troubled at the thought of losing his horse, but to ride from the right seemed the wisest course for him to pursue. Accordingly he did so, and so swift was his horse’s flight that he had soon left the gray stone far behind. On the third day, as he was passing the borders of a gloomy forest, a big Gray Wolf sprang out from a thicket, and, flying at his horse’s throat, threw him on the ground and killed him in spite of Ivan’s gallant attempt to beat him off. Ivan would now have run the Gray Wolf through with the jeweled dagger his father had given him as a parting present, but before he could rise from the spot where he had been thrown, the creature spoke.
“Spare me, wise prince,” he entreated humbly. “I have but done as I was commanded. My death will not give you back your horse, while if you spare my life I will be your friend forever, and will carry you over the world.”