cupation.

"Now, then, Krake," said Tyrker, "tell us the story about that king you
were talking of the other day; which was it? Harald--"

"Ay, King Harald," said Krake, "and how he came to get the name of
Greyskin. Well, you must know that it's not many years ago since my
father, Sigurd, was a trader between Iceland and Norway. He went to
other places too, sometimes--and once to Ireland, on which occasion it
was that I was taken prisoner and kept so long in the country, that I
became an Irishman. But after escaping and getting home I managed to
change back into an Icelander, as ye may see! Well, in my father's
younger days, before I was born--which was a pity! for he needed help
sorely at that time, and I would have been just the man to turn myself
handy to any sort of work; however, it wasn't _my_ fault,--in his
younger days, my father one summer went over from Iceland to Norway,--
his ship loaded till she could hardly float, with skins and peltry,
chiefly grey wolves. It's my opinion that the reason she didn't go down
was that they had packed her so tight there was no room for the water to
get in and sink her. Anyway, over the sea she went and got safe to
Norway.

"At that time King Harald, one of the sons of Eric, reigned in Norway,
after the death of King Hakon the Good. He and my father were great
friends, but they had not met for some time; and not since Harald had
come to his dignity. My father sailed to Hardanger, intending to
dispose of his pelts there if he could. Now, King Harald generally had
his seat in Hordaland and Bogaland, and some of his brothers were
usually with him; but it chanced that year that they went to Hardanger,
so my father and the king met, and had great doings, drinking beer and
talking about old times when they were boys together.

"My father then went to the place where the greatest number of people
were met in the fiord, but nobody would buy any of his skins. He
couldn't understand this at all, and was very much annoyed at it, and at
night when he was at supper with the king he tells him about it. The
king was in a funny humour that night. He had dashed his beard with
beer to a great extent, and laughed heartily sometimes without my father
being able to see what was the joke. But my father was a knowing man.
He knew well enough that people are sometimes given to hearty laughter
without troubling themselves much about the joke--especially when they
are beery,--so he la