In one village there lived a boy. His name was Dzhabagi. He had neither father nor mother. Nobody knew where Dzhabagi came to the village from. Everyone loved him for his kind disposition and quick mind and helped him in any way they could. Some will give him a piece of churek, some a shirt. And as Dzhabagi grew up, they gave him goats to graze. Dzhabagi drove the goats onto the slopes of a high mountain, at the foot of which the village was located.
One morning Dzhabagi drove the goats to the pasture and saw that a crack had formed on the slope.
The next morning he took the egg with him and put it in the crack. I looked in the evening and the egg had failed: the crack had grown.
On the third day, the boy put a large stone into the crack - by evening it fell through.
Dzhabagi realized that the village was in danger - the mountain would collapse and the village would perish.
In the evening he brought the goats and told the residents about the crack.
“Let’s leave here before it’s too late,” Dzhabagi persuaded people.
And they only laughed in response:
“Our fathers and grandfathers lived here, and there were never any landslides.” Is it because our village is in danger because you have appeared among us?
But some people listened to the wise boy’s advice and left the village with him.
And at night the mountain collapsed and covered the village.
Those who left with Dzhabagi Kazanoko founded a new village.
In honor of the savior he was named Kazanokov.
And now this village stands on the banks of the fast Baksan River.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru