_Thorolf_ (_in fear and wrath_).--You plunder the dead!

_Jarngrim_.--Mine are all the slain!

_Thorolf_.--Are you Woden, then, the father of all devils? (_Draws his
sword and strikes at him, but the blow strikes the roof of the cave_.)

_Jarngrim_ (_who has not stirred while the blow was struck_).--Rarely
avails the blow which is struck too high.

_Thorolf_ (_holds his shield before his body, with his sword behind it,
and peers under the hood of_ JARNGRIM).--You startled not!

_Jarngrim_.--But you have changed color. I never blink my eyes.

_Thorolf_.--Yet it may go ill with but one eye, you evil spirit!

_Jarngrim_.--Many are the eyes of day, _the night has but one_! Let not
the fire die down, Thorolf! The mead you will drink with me to-night has
become warm! Is well-nigh ready.

(JARNGRIM _walks into the cave. As soon as his back is turned a black
patch is seen between his shoulders_. THOROLF _strikes another blow
at him, but his sword strikes the rock wall_. JARNGRIM _and the ravens
vanish_.)

_Thorolf_.--Is he hiding here, the hell-hound?

_His Men_--Who? Who?