overtake him through his cherished charger. Warrior as he was, he
had the superstition of the pagan, and to avoid the predicted fate he
sent his horse far away, and for years avoided even speaking of it.

Then, moved by curiosity, he asked what had become of the banished
animal.

"It died years ago," was the reply; "only its bones remain."

"So much for your soothsayers," he cried, with a contempt that was not
unmixed with relief. "That, then, is all this prediction is worth! But
where are the bones of my good old horse? I should like to see what
little is left of him."

He was taken to the spot where lay the skeleton of his old favorite, and
gazed with some show of feeling on the bleaching bones of what had once
been his famous war-horse. Then, setting his foot on the skull, he
said,--

"So this is the creature that is destined to be my death."

At that moment a deadly serpent that lay coiled up within the skull
darted out and fixed its poisonous fangs in the conqueror's foot. And
thus ignobly he who had slain men by thousands and conquered an empire
came to his death.

_THE VENGEANCE OF QUEEN OLGA._

The death of Oleg brought Igor his ward, then nearly forty years of age,
to the throne of Rurik his father. And the same old story of bloodshed
and barbarity went on. In those days a king was king in name only. He
was really but the chief of a band of plunderers, who dug wealth from
the world with the sword instead of the spade, threw it away in wild
orgies, and then hounded him into leading them to new wars.

The story of the Northmen is everywhere the same. While in the West they
were harrying England, France, and the Mediterranean countries with fire
and sword, in the East their Varangian kinsmen were spreading
devastation through Russia and the empire of the Greeks.

Like his predecessor, Igor invaded this empire with a great army,
landing in Asia Minor and treating the people with such brutal ferocity
that no earthquake or volcano could have shown itself more merciless.
His prisoners were slaughtered in the most barbarous manner, fire swept
away all that havoc had left, and then the Russian prince sailed in
triumph against Constantinople, with his ten thousand barks manned by
murderers and laden with plunder.

But the Greeks were now ready for their foes. Pouring on them the
terrible Greek fire, they drove them back in dismay to Asia Minor, where
they were met and routed by the land forces of the