steel sword and tried its edge with
his practised finger to prove its sharpness. His boys admired their
father's blade and tried to lift it, but it was too heavy for one, and
two struggled to lift it from the floor.

The peasant's daughter scoured the helmet to make it clean and bright,
and laughed to see her face shining from the silvery sheen of its
polished surface.

When the peasant had bound his good sword to his side and put on his
shining helmet, he took his round shield and started with his friends
to the gathering-place.

Hail! iron man, so strong and sound,
Thou peasant good!
Renown and powers which nations wield
From thee they draw.
In war thou art thy country's shield,
In peace its law.

With sounding of arms and shields the peasants met under heaven's blue
sky in the fair, pleasant fields. Upon the great stone in the centre
of the assembly stood the noble Frithiof. With him was the little
prince, son of King Ring, a slender, noble lad with long golden hair.
When the men saw the two, there rose the cry on every hand, "Too small
is the king's son to rule our land and to lead our wars. Frithiof
shall be our king!"

But Frithiof raised up the little boy on his shield and cried: "Ye
Northmen, behold your hope, your king, your joy! From Odin is he
descended, and he is brave at heart, as much at home 'mid shield and
spear as fish are in the sea.

"I swear my lance and sword to set
Round land and throne,
And with the father's coronet
To crown the son."

[Illustration: The Boy on the Shield]

While Frithiof was urging the Northmen to choose the son of Ring for
their King, the boy sat on the high shield as if it were a throne. No
fear had he, but he faced them all as the eaglet faces the sun. At
last he grew impatient and leaped to the ground; fearless and proud he
stood, like the royal prince he was.

Then all rejoiced at his courage: "We of the north, we choose thee,
thou shield-borne youth, to be our king. Be like thy father, brave and
good. For Frithiof, thy loyal friend, he shall be thy guardian and
guide thy youth. You, Frithiof, shall marry the queen. We give her to
you for your bride."

But Frithiof frowned and said: "To-day you are here to make choice of
your king,--not of my bride. To the temple of Balder I must go to
repair the wrong I have done, if perchance I can do this.

"Against me Balder's anger sore
Doth still abide;
He too