that, the depriving one's family of its head and of the King's favour,
patriotism says that to die would be folly, not wisdom."

"Tush, man; folk will learn to call thee Haldor the Mild. Surely years
are telling on thee. Was there ever anything in this world worth having
gained without a struggle?"

"Thou knowest, Ulf, that I am not wont to be far from the front wherever
or whenever a struggle is thought needful, but I doubt the propriety of
it in the present case. The subject, however, is open to discussion.
The question is, whether it would be better for Norway that the kings of
Horlingdal should submit to the conqueror for the sake of the general
good, or buckle on the sword in the hope of retrieving what is lost.
Peace or war--that is the question."

"I say war!" cried Ulf, striking the board so violently with his
clenched fist that the tankards and platters leaped and rang again.

At this a murmur of applause ran round the benches of the friends and
housemen.

"The young blades are ever ready to huzza over their drink at the
thought of fighting; but methinks it will not strengthen thy cause much,
friend Ulf, thus to frighten the women and spill the ale."

Ulf turned round with a momentary look of anger at this speech. The man
who uttered it was a splendid specimen of a veteran warrior. His
forehead was quite bald, but from the sides and back of his head flowed
a mass of luxuriant silky hair which was white as the driven snow. His
features were eminently firm and masculine, and there was a hearty
good-humoured expression about the mouth, and a genial twinkle in his
eyes, especially in the wrinkled corners thereof, that rendered the
stout old man irresistibly attractive. His voice was particularly rich,
deep, and mellow, like that of a youth, and although his bulky frame
stooped a little from age, there was enough of his youthful vigour left
to render him a formidable foe, as many a poor fellow had learned to his
cost even in days but recently gone by. He was an uncle of Ulf, and on
a visit to the stede at that time. The frown fled from Ulf's brow as he
looked in the old man's ruddy and jovial countenance.

"Thanks, Guttorm," said he, seizing his tankard, "thanks for reminding
me that grey hairs are beginning to sprinkle my beard; come, let us
drink success to the right, confusion to the wrong! thou canst not
refuse that, Haldor."

"Nay," said Haldor, laughing; "nor will I refuse to fight in thy caus