olutely how no human voices and hands
could have approached the door since snow fell two hours or more
ago. "When the wind drops there will be more snow," thought Sweyn.

For the best part of an hour he kept his watch, and saw no living
thing--heard no unwonted sound. "I will freeze here no longer," he
muttered, and re-entered.

One woman gave a half-suppressed scream as his hand was laid on
the latch, and then a gasp of relief as he came in. No one
questioned him, only his mother said, in a tone of forced
unconcern, "Could you not see Christian coming?" as though she
were made anxious only by the absence of her younger son. Hardly
had Sweyn stamped near to the fire than clear knocking was heard
at the door. Tyr leapt from the hearth, his eyes red as the fire,
his fangs showing white in the black jowl, his neck ridged and
bristling; and overleaping Rol, ramped at the door, barking
furiously.

Outside the door a clear mellow voice was calling. Tyr's bark made
the words undistinguishable.

No one offered to stir towards the door before Sweyn.

He stalked down the room resolutely, lifted the latch, and swung
back the door.

A white-robed woman glided in.

No wraith! Living--beautiful--young.

Tyr leapt upon her.

Lithely she baulked the sharp fangs with folds of her long fur
robe, and snatching from her girdle a small two-edged axe, whirled
it up for a blow of defence.

Sweyn caught the dog by the collar, and dragged him off yelling
and struggling.

The stranger stood in the doorway motionless, one foot set
forward, one arm flung up, till the house-mistress hurried down
the room; and Sweyn, relinquishing to others the furious Tyr,
turned again to close the door, and offer excuse for so fierce a
greeting. Then she lowered her arm, slung the axe in its place at
her waist, loosened the furs about her face, and shook over her
shoulders the long white robe--all as it were with the sway of one
movement.

She was a maiden, tall and very fair. The fashion of her dress was
strange, half masculine, yet not unwomanly. A fine fur tunic,
reaching but little below the knee, was all the skirt she wore;
below were the cross-bound shoes and leggings that a hunter wears.
A white fur cap was set low upon the brows, and from its edge
strips of fur fell lappet-wise about her shoulders; two of these
at her entrance had been drawn forward and crossed about her
throat, but now, loosened and thrust back, left unhidden long
plai