listlessly beneath the waters of
the great Fanander Cataract, which fell from the shelving rocks a
thousand feet above him. One day while thus lying, he bethought
himself of former days, when he walked the glad young earth in company
with great Odin. And among other things he remembered how he had once
borrowed the magic net of Ran, the Ocean-queen, and had caught with it
the dwarf Andvari, disguised, as he himself now was, in the form of a
slippery salmon.

"I will make me such a net!" he cried. "I will make it strong and
good; and I, too, will fish for men."

So he took again his proper shape, and went back to his cheerless home
in the ravine. There he gathered flax and wool and long hemp, and spun
yarn and strong cords, and wove them into meshes, after the pattern of
Queen Ran's magic net; for men had not, at that time, learned how to
make or use nets for fishing. And the first fisherman who caught fish
in that way is said to have taken-Loki's net as a model.

Odin sat, on the morrow, in his high hall at Asgard, and looked out
over all the world, even to the uttermost corners. With his sharp eye
he saw what men-folk were everywhere doing. When his gaze rested upon
the dark line which marked the mountain land of the Mist Country, he
started up in quick surprise, and cried out:

"Who is that who sits by the Fanander Falls, and ties strong cords
together?"

But none of those who stood around could tell, for their eyes were not
strong enough and clear enough to see so far.

"Bring Heimdal!" then cried Odin.

Now, Heimdal the White dwells among the blue mountains where the
rainbow spans the space betwixt heaven and earth. He is the son of
Odin, golden-toothed, pure-faced, and clean-hearted; and he ever keeps
watch and ward over the mid-world and the homes of frail men-folk, lest
the giants shall break in, and destroy and slay. He rides upon a
shining steed named Goldtop; and he holds in his hand a horn with
which, in the last twilight, he shall summon the world to battle with
the sons of Loki. This watchful guardian of the mid-world is as
wakeful as the birds. And his hearing is so keen, that no sound on
earth escapes him,--not even that of the rippling waves upon the
seashore, nor of the quiet sprouting of the grass in the meadows, nor
even of the growth of the soft wool on the backs of the sheep. His
eyesight, too, is wondrous clear and sharp; for he can see by night as
well as by day, and the smal