sleep. On the morning of the sixth day I sat up and spoke many wild and
wandering words, so that they believed I should only live as a madman.

"His mind is gone," said my mother, and wept.

"Nay," answered Freydisa, "he does but return from a land where they
speak another tongue. Thorvald, bring hither the bear-skin."

It was brought and hung on a frame of poles at the end of the niche in
which I slept, that, as was usual among northern people, opened out of
the hall. I stared at it for a long while. Then my memory came back and
I asked:

"Did the great beast kill Steinar?"

"No," answered my mother, who sat by me. "Steinar was sore hurt, but
escaped and now is well again."

"Let me see him with my own eyes," I said.

So he was brought, and I looked on him. "I am glad you live, my
brother," I said, "for know in this long sleep of mine I have dreamed
that you were dead"; and I stretched out my wasted arms towards him, for
I loved Steinar better than any other man.

He came and kissed me on the brow, saying:

"Aye, thanks to you, Olaf, I live to be your brother and your thrall
till the end."