than there is in us, Steinar. Come, lift him to my back, and if you are
strong enough, go on to the horses and bid the thrall bring one of them.
I follow."

Thus ended the fight with the great white bear.



Some four hours later, in the midst of a raging storm of wind and rain,
I was brought at last to the bridge that spanned the moat of the Hall of
Aar, laid like a corpse across the back of one of the horses. They had
been searching for us at Aar, but in that darkness had found nothing.
Only, at the head of the bridge was Freydisa, a torch in her hand. She
glanced at me by the light of the torch.

"As my heart foretold, so it is," she said. "Bring him in," then turned
and ran to the house.

They bore me up between the double ranks of stabled kine to where the
great fire of turf and wood burned at the head of the hall, and laid me
on a table.

"Is he dead?" asked Thorvald, my father, who had come home that night;
"and if so, how?"

"Aye, father," answered Ragnar, "and nobly. He dragged Steinar yonder
from under the paws of the great white bear and slew it with his sword."

"A mighty deed," muttered my father. "Well, at least he comes home in
honour."