stone; it was a sharp hard three-edged flint stone--I had
carefully reserved it for some great peril--and alas! alas--woe is me,
only too truly did it strike. Without a sound Halfred fell, where he
stood, on his back under the ash tree, himself like to a suddenly
felled tree.

With a few bounds the shepherd reached the prostrate form, cautiously
holding his spear before him, lest the enemy should suddenly spring up
again. For it might be that he only artfully feigned to be wounded.

As he drew nearer, however, he saw that it was no deceit, but rather
evident truth.

Blood streamed over the fallen man's right cheek, and in the cavity of
the right eye stuck the sharp flint stone.

But pity mingled with dread seized upon the shepherd, as he gazed in
the fearful mighty face of the man who lay mute at his feet. Never
before had he seen so splendid a face; at once so noble, and so sad.

And superstitious fear overcame him, if it might not be the chief of
the heathen gods, Odhin, the one-eyed, who in the semblance of this
wanderer with the white beard had appeared to him.

But soon he felt yet deeper sympathy and compassion, for the wounded
man in a weak voice began:--

"Whosoever thou mayest be, who hast cast this stone, receive the
thanks, O shepherd boy, of a world and woe weary man. Thou hast taken
from me the light of the second eye also. I need no longer to see
men-kind and the heavens. Neither of them have I understood for a long
time. And soon shall I pass to where questions are no more asked, and
curses no more cursed. I thank thee, whosoever thou mayest be. Thou
hast of all living beings--save one--done the best for Halfred
Hamundson."

Then with a loud cry I threw my spear on one side, fell upon my knees,
embraced the pale bleeding head, and cried:--

"Halfred, Halfred, my father, forgive, forgive me!--I am the murderer--
and thy son--"

Now ye who shall one day unroll this parchment--pause at this place,
and look upwards to the sun, if it is day, and to the stars, if it is
night, and ask with Halfred--"Are there Gods?"

For I, I, who secretly and in dread write these pages during the night
hours, I am the shepherd boy, Halfred's son, who have slain him.

And the Gods, or the Christian God, have allowed it to come to pass
that the son has blinded and murdered the father.

I wept hot tears upon my dear father's pale forehead. But he turned his
head, as though he would see me, and said--

"It is hard