they stood no chance at all, except of getting mauled again and rolled
in the mud. And so off in a wild gallop through streets, squares,
gardens, and flower-beds, fighting and howling, covered with blood and
dirt, tongues lolling from mouths. Out of the way with humans and
baby-carriages, room for canine warfare and love! And thus they would
rush on like Aasgaard's demon riders through the unhappy town.
[Footnote: Aasgaard was the 'garth' or home of the gods. After the
advent of Christianity, the Norse gods became demons, and it was the
popular belief that they rode across the sky at night, foreboding evil.]

Trofast heeded none of the people on the street except the policemen.
For, with his keen understanding, he had long ago discerned that the
police were there to protect him and his kind against the manifold
encroachments of humanity. Therefore he obligingly stopped whenever he
met a policeman, and allowed himself to be scratched behind the ear. In
particular, he had a good, stout friend, whom he often met up in
Aabenraa, where he (Trofast) had a _liaison_ of many years' standing.

When Policeman Frode Hansen was seen coming upstairs from a cellar--a
thing that often happened, for he was a jolly fellow, and it was a
pleasure to offer him a half of lager-beer--his face bore a great
likeness to the rising sun. It was round and red, warm and beaming.

But when he appeared in full view upon the pavement, casting a severe
glance up and down the street, in order to ascertain whether any
evil-disposed person had seen where he came from, there would arise a
faint reminiscence of something that we, as young men, had read about in
physics, and which, I believe, we called the co-efficient of expansion.

For, when we looked at the deep incision made by his strong belt,