also wished to run,
stripped off their upper garments, that they might run more lightly.

[Illustration: While Siegfried drank of the cool, clear water, Hagen
stabbed him]

Fleet of foot were Hagen and the King, yet fleeter still was
Siegfried. He reached the well, loosened his sword, and laid it with
his bow and arrows on the ground, and leant his spear against a linden
tree that grew close to the fountain.

He looked down into the spring, yet though his thirst was great, so
courteous was he that he would not drink before King Gunther.

When Gunther reached the well, he knelt at once to drink, then having
quenched his thirst he turned and wandered back along the hillside
toward his merry huntsmen.

As Siegfried now bent over the spring, Hagen with stealthy steps crept
near and drew the hero's sword and quiver out of his reach. Stealthy
still, he seized the spear which rested against the linden tree. Then
while Siegfried drank of the cool, clear water, Hagen stabbed him,
straight through the little cross of silk which Kriemhild's gentle
hand had sewed, he stabbed.

The cruel deed was done, and Hagen turned to flee, leaving the spear
there where he had thrust it, between the hero's shoulders, where
once, alas! had lain a linden leaf.

Siegfried sprang to his feet as he felt the cruel blow, and reached
for his quiver that he might speed the traitor to his death, but
neither quiver nor sword could he find.

Then unarmed save for his shield the wounded hero ran, nor could Hagen
escape him. With his shield Siegfried struck the false knight such
heavy blows that the precious stones dropped out of the shield and
were scattered, and Hagen lay helpless at King Siegfried's feet.

But Siegfried had no sword with which to slay his enemy, moreover his
wound began to smart until he writhed with pain. Then, his strength
failing him, he fell upon the green grass, while around him gathered
Gunther and his huntsmen.

Sore wounded was King Siegfried, even unto death, and Gunther, sorry
now the cruel deed was done, wept as he looked down upon the stricken
King.

'Never would I have been slain, save by treachery,' murmured
Siegfried. 'Yet how can I think of aught but my beautiful wife
Kriemhild. Unto thee, O King Gunther, do I entrust her. If there be
any faith in thee, defend her from all her foes.'

No more could he say, for he was faint from his wound, and ere long
the hero lay still on the grass, dead.

Then the knigh