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 The guards, watching the bonfires fearfully, awakened their officers, but they, observing that the Tukholians were going about their business peacefully, ordered them not to create a disturbance but to remain alert at their posts. The fact that they started so many campfires, they were told, was all the better for the Mongols, it meant the Tukholians would not try to attack secretly in the dark. As long as those fires burned, they could sleep in peace and recuperate their energies for the arduous undertaking awaiting the army the next day.

Tuhar Wolf and his daughter left the entrenchment and having crossed a short stretch of plain came to a precipitous wall of rock. They searched a long time before Peace-Renown finally located the path among the brambles and ferns which would lead them to the top. They began toiling upwards.

“Who goes there?” shouted voices down from the nearest campfire.

“Friends,” answered Peace-Renown.

“What friends?” shouted the Tukholians, barring their path. But they soon recognized Peace-Renown, who led the way.

“And who is behind you?”

“My father. The Mongolian behadir sent him for a peace parley with your elders.”

“What the deuce do we need a parley for? As soon as it’s daybreak we’ll talk to them all right, but it won’t be of peace!”

“How brave you are!” Tuhar Wolf laughed sarcastically. “Well, well, well, we won’t have to wait very long for that pleasure! Only we don’t know whether it’ll be such a pleasure for your mothers, to see your young heads stuck on Mongolian lances!”

“The devil take your speech, noxious raven!” the Tukholians expostulated, surrounding the boyar.

“Now, now,” Tuhar Wolf calmed them. “Of course I