poor body that day to save the life of one serpent at least. At that
moment a door-keeper, sent by Friend-wealth's father, came to
summon them home. And Cloud-Chariot said: "Do you go first. I
will follow." So he dismissed Friend-wealth, and remained there
himself.

As he walked about waiting for the thing he hoped for, he heard a
pitiful sound of weeping at a distance. He went a little way and
saw near a lofty rock a sorrowful, handsome youth. He was at that
moment abandoned by a creature that seemed to be a policeman,
and was gently persuading his old, weeping mother to return. And
Cloud-chariot wished to know who it might be. So he hid himself
and listened, his heart melting with pity.

The old mother was bowed down by anguish, and started to lament
over the youth. "Oh, Shell-crest! Oh, my virtuous son, whom I
fondled, not counting the labour and the pain! Oh, my son, my only
son! Where shall I see you again? Oh, my darling! When your
bright face is gone, your old father will fall into black despair.
How can he live then? Your tender form is hurt by the rays of the
sun. How can it bear the pangs of being eaten by Garuda? Oh, my
unhappy fate! Why did the Creator and the serpent-king choose my
only son from the broad serpent-world, and seize upon him?"

And as she lamented, the youth, her son, said: "Mother, I am
unhappy enough. Why torture me yet more? Return home. For the
last time I bow before you. It is time for Garuda to come."

And the mother cried: "Alas, alas for me! Who will save my son?"
And she gazed about wildly and wept aloud.