nown it years ago, before troubles came, and when as merry boys
the two lived with but one heart between them. And at the sound he put
spurs to his horse and plunged into the wood.

Gloomy indeed was this forest of lonely pines, which rocked and groaned
in the wind, and in which a dim twilight deepening often into black
darkness reigned on every hand. And gloomier still were those distant
cries which rose ever and again above the tempest, and caused even the
brave horse to shiver as he heard them.

But Sigurd shivered not, but rode forward, trusting in his God and
listening only to that old-remembered voice ahead.

For a league the road was easy and the perils few. For thus far the
woodman's axe had often fallen amidst the thick underwood, clearing a
path among the trees and driving before it the sullen wolves into the
deeper recesses of the forest.

But as Sigurd rode on, and the boughs overhead closed in between him and
the light of day, these few traces of man's hand vanished.

His good horse stumbled painfully over the tangled ground, often hardly
finding himself a path among the dense trunks. And all around, those
wild yells which had mingled with the tempest seemed to draw closer, as
though eagerly awaiting the horse and its rider somewhere not far off.

Sigurd heeded them not, but cheered himself as he rode on by calling to
mind some of the beautiful stories of the old religion of his land. He
thought of the elves and fairies who were said to dwell in these very
forests, and at midnight to creep up from their hiding-places and gambol
and play tricks among the flowers and dewdrops with the wild bees and
the summer insects, or dance in magic circles on the greensward. And it
did his heart good to feel he was not alone, but that these merry little
companions were with him, lightening his way and guiding his course all
the night through. And he thought too of luckless dwarfs whom Odin had
condemned to dig and delve all day deep in the ground, and throw fuel on
the great central fire of the earth, but who at night, like the fairies,
might come above and revisit then old haunts. And even these
mischievous little companions helped to cheer the heart of the wayfarer
and beguile his journey.

And so he plodded on all through the night, resolutely plunging deeper
and deeper into the forest, and leaving the Tower of the Norths
Waistcoat Wind league after league farther behind.

The day passed as the night ha