I could see.'

'And what did you see?' 'A smith forging something or other out of Cold
Iron. When it was finished, he weighed it in his hand (his back was
towards me), and tossed it from him a longish quoit-throw down the
valley. I saw Cold Iron flash in the sun, but I couldn't quite make out
where it fell. That didn't trouble me. I knew it would be found sooner
or later by someone.'

'How did you know?'Dan went on.

'Because I knew the Smith that made it,' said Puck quietly.

'Wayland Smith?' Una suggested. [See 'Weland's Sword' in PUCK OF POOK'S
HILL.]

'No. I should have passed the time o' day with Wayland Smith, of course.
This other was different. So'--Puck made a queer crescent in the air
with his finger--'I counted the blades of grass under my nose till the
wind dropped and he had gone--he and his Hammer.'

'Was it Thor then?' Una murmured under her breath.

'Who else? It was Thor's own day.' Puck repeated the sign. 'I didn't
tell Sir Huon or his Lady what I'd seen. Borrow trouble for yourself if
that's your nature, but don't lend it to your neighbours. Moreover,
I might have been mistaken about the Smith's work. He might have been
making things for mere amusement, though it wasn't like him, or he might
have thrown away an old piece of made iron. One can never be sure. So I
held my tongue and enjoyed the babe. He was a wonderful child--and the
People of the Hills were so set on him, they wouldn't have believed me.
He took to me wonderfully. As soon as he could walk he'd putter forth
with me all about my Hill here. Fern makes soft falling! He knew when
day broke on earth above, for he'd thump, thump, thump, like an old
buck-rabbit in a bury, and I'd hear him say "Opy!" till some one who
knew the Charm let him out, and then it would be "Robin! Robin!" all
round Robin Hood's barn, as we say, till he'd found me.'

'The dear!' said Una. 'I'd like to have seen him!' 'Yes, he was a boy.
And when it came to learning his words--spells and such-like--he'd sit
on the Hill in the long shadows, worrying out bits of charms to try on
passersby. And when the bird flew to him, or the tree bowed to him for
pure love's sake (like everything else on my Hill), he'd shout, "Robin!
Look--see! Look, see, Robin!" and sputter out some spell or other that
they had taught him, all wrong end first, till I hadn't the heart to
tell him it was his own dear self and not the words that worked the
wonder. When he got more abreast of his w