at first). Then he said: "_You_ ought to know. You foretold it, Old
Thing. I'm shoeing horses for hire. I'm not even Weland now," he said.
"They call me Wayland-Smith."'

'Poor chap!' said Dan. 'What did you say?'

'What could I say? He looked up, with the horse's foot on his lap, and
he said, smiling, "I remember the time when I wouldn't have accepted
this old bag of bones as a sacrifice, and now I'm glad enough to shoe
him for a penny."

'"Isn't there any way for you to get back to Valhalla, or wherever you
come from?" I said.

'"I'm afraid not," he said, rasping away at the hoof. He had a wonderful
touch with horses. The old beast was whinnying on his shoulder. "You may
remember that I was not a gentle God in my Day and my Time and my Power.
I shall never be released till some human being truly wishes me well."

'"Surely," said I, "the farmer can't do less than that. You're shoeing
the horse all round for him."

'"Yes," said he, "and my nails will hold a shoe from one full moon to
the next. But farmers and Weald clay," said he, "are both uncommon cold
and sour."

'Would you believe it, that when that farmer woke and found his horse
shod he rode away without one word of thanks? I was so angry that I
wheeled his horse right round and walked him back three miles to the
Beacon, just to teach the old sinner politeness.'

'Were you invisible?' said Una. Puck nodded, gravely.

'The Beacon was always laid in those days ready to light, in case the
French landed at Pevensey; and I walked the horse about and about it
that lee-long summer night. The farmer thought he was bewitched--well,
he _was_, of course--and began to pray and shout. _I_ didn't care! I was
as good a Christian as he any fair-day in the County, and about four
o'clock in the morning a young novice came along from the monastery that
used to stand on the top of Beacon Hill.'

'What's a novice?' said Dan.

'It really means a man who is beginning to be a monk, but in those days
people sent their sons to a monastery just the same as a school. This
young fellow had been to a monastery in France for a few months every
year, and he was finishing his studies in the monastery close to his
home here. Hugh was his name, and he had got up to go fishing
hereabouts. His people owned all this valley. Hugh heard the farmer
shouting, and asked him what in the world he meant. The old man spun him
a wonderful tale about fairies and goblins and witches; and I _know_ he