But now he turned the jaded sorrel mare
Upon the venture that had brought him there
And searched for Houlan and his brothers where
They hounded them and was to hound for years
The youth who would be khan and would not know
Defeat or failure, compromise or fears.
The doughty Kassar and Belgutai true
With Houlan and his sisters were, alone, 
The only vassals that the young khan knew
And eight poor horses all the herd they own.
But rich the Mongol who his courage keeps
And faces his adversity, nor weeps,
While always ready, on his arms he sleeps.

The fourth day's dawn reveals beside the trail
A youth who milks his mare, but at the hail
Of Timujin approached and heard his tale.
"Before the dawn I saw them driving past,"
The warrior said, and then; "Your horse is spent.
"Let Borchu give you one both fresh and fast,"
Then caught a white, nor waited for assent.
And so did Borchu win the young khan's heart
That he was glad to take this new recruit.
They mount, their chargers champing for the start,
And eagerly set out in swift pursuit,
The horses settling quickly to their stride
And Borchu little guessing that this ride
Was yet to seat him by an emp'ror's side.