you,'
said she. So Ian ate and drank, and fell sound asleep under the cask. In
the evening the robbers arrived very tired, and crosser than they had
been yesterday, for their luck had turned and they had brought back
scarcely anything.

'Someone has eaten our dinner again,' cried they.

'It is the man under the barrel,' answered the captain. 'Let four of you
go and kill him, but first slay the other four who pretended to kill him
last night and didn't, because he is still alive.'

Then Ian was killed a second time, and after the rest of the robbers had
eaten, they lay down and slept till morning.

No sooner were their faces touched with the sun's rays than they were up
and off. Then the deer entered and dropped the healing wax on the dead
man, and he was as well as ever. By this time he did not mind what
befell him, so sure was he that the deer would take care of him, and in
the evening that which had happened before happened again--the four
robbers were put to death and the fisher's son also, but because there
was no food left for them to eat, they were nearly mad with rage, and
began to quarrel. From quarrelling they went on to fighting, and fought
so hard that by and bye they were all stretched dead on the floor.

Then the deer entered, and the fisher's son was restored to life, and
bidding him follow her, she ran on to a little white cottage where dwelt
an old woman and her son, who was thin and dark.

'Here I must leave you,' said the deer, 'but to-morrow meet me at midday
in the church that is yonder.' And jumping across the stream, she
vanished into a wood.

[Illustration: She combed his hair with a golden comb but his eyes
opened not]

Next day he set out for the church, but the old woman of the cottage had
gone before him, and had stuck an enchanted stick called 'the spike of
hurt' in a crack of the door, so that he would brush against it as he
stepped across the threshold. Suddenly he felt so sleepy that he could
not stand up, and throwing himself on the ground he sank into a deep
slumber, not knowing that the dark lad was watching him. Nothing could
waken him, not even the sound of sweetest music, nor the touch of a lady
who bent over him. A sad look came on her face, as she saw it was no
use, and at last she gave it up, and lifting his arm, wrote her name
across his side--'the daughter of the king of the town under the waves.'

'I will come to-morrow,' she whispered, though he could not hear her,