for it seemed as if even the powerful magician would be unable to get
through it. He did succeed however; but his clothes were nearly torn
off his back, and his horse was bleeding from many wounds made by
the cruel thorns. Sringa-Bhuja too was getting weary, and remembered
that he had only one more chance of checking his relentless enemy. He
could almost feel the breath of the panting steed as it drew near;
and with a loud cry to his beloved Rupa-Sikha, he threw the burning
charcoal on the road. In an instant the grass by the wayside, the
trees overshadowing it, and the magic wood which had sprung from the
thorns, were alight, burning so fiercely that no living thing could
approach them safely. The wicked magician was beaten at last, and
was soon himself fleeing away, as fast as he could, with the flames
following after him as if they were eager to consume him.

Whether his enemy ever got back to his temple, Sringa-Bhuja never
knew. Exhausted with all he had been through, the young prince was
taken back to the palace by the faithful Marut, and there he found
his dear Rupa-Sikha awaiting him. She told him that her father had
promised her that, if the prince came back, he would oppose her
marriage no longer. "For," he said, "if he can escape your uncle,
he must be more than mortal, and worthy even of my daughter." "He
does not in the least expect to see you again," added Rupa-Sikha;
"and even if he allows us to marry, he will never cease to hate you;
for I am quite sure he knows that you shot the jewelled arrow at him
when he was in the form of a crane. If I ever am your wife, he will
try to punish you through me. But have no fear: I shall know how
to manage him. Fresh powers have been lately given to me by another
uncle whose magic is stronger than that of any of my other relations."

When Sringa-Bhuja had bathed and rested, he robed himself once