walks often.
There's a kingfisher there.'

'It was Weland's Ford then, dear. A road led down to it from the Beacon on
the top of the hill--a shocking bad road it was--and all the hillside was
thick, thick oak-forest, with deer in it. There was no trace of Weland,
but presently I saw a fat old farmer riding down from the Beacon under the
greenwood tree. His horse had cast a shoe in the clay, and when he came to
the Ford he dismounted, took a penny out of his purse, laid it on a stone,
tied the old horse to an oak, and called out: "Smith, Smith, here is work
for you!" Then he sat down and went to sleep. You can imagine how _I_ felt
when I saw a white-bearded, bent old blacksmith in a leather apron creep
out from behind the oak and begin to shoe the horse. It was Weland
himself. I was so astonished that I jumped out and said: "What on Human
Earth are you doing here, Weland?"'

'Poor Weland!' sighed Una.

'He pushed the long hair back from his forehead (he didn't recognise me at
first). Then he said: "_You_ ought to know. You foretold it, Old Thing.
I'm shoeing horses for hire. I'm not even Weland now," he said. "They call
me Wayland-Smith."'

'Poor chap!' said Dan. 'What did you say?'

'What could I say? He looked up, with the horse's foot on his lap, and he
said, smiling, "I remember the time when I wouldn't have accepted this old
bag of bones as a sacrifice, and now I'm glad enough to shoe him for a
penny."

'"Isn't there any way for you to get back to Valhalla, or wherever you
come from?" I said.

'"I'm afraid not," he said, rasping away at the hoof. He had a wonderful
touch with horses. The old beast was whinnying on his shoulder. "You may
remember that I was not a gentle God in my Day and my Time and my Power. I
shall never be released till some human being truly wishes me well."

'"Surely," said I, "the farmer can't do less than that. You're shoeing the
horse all round for him."

'"Yes," said he, "and my nails will hold a shoe from one full moon to the
next. But farmers and Weald Clay," said he, "are both uncommon cold and
sour."

'Would you believe it, that when that farmer woke and found his horse shod
he rode away without one word of thanks? I was so angry that I wheeled his
horse right round and walked him back three miles to the Beacon just to
teach the old sinner politeness.'

'Were you invisible?' said Una. Puck nodded, gravely.

'The Beacon was always laid in those days ready to light, in case