"Would you then tell the man a falsehood?" cried Olaf.

"Gladly, if by doing so I still keep you with me, for I would not
lose you for all the world."

Olaf, obedient to his uncle's word, began to unbuckle his belt. But
his face was very gloomy, and it was easy to see that it was only
out of his love for his uncle that he would by any means agree to
forego his pleasures. Olaf was already very proud of his own skill.
Never yet had he been beaten in any contest, and he had hoped to
add to his glory by overcoming all who might come against him on
this great day. Moreover, it was a sorry sacrifice for him to make
if he was not to be allowed to witness the games.

As Sigurd turned to leave him, the boy suddenly caught his arm.

"I will not promise!" he cried. "I cannot give you my word. I have
set my heart upon the wrestling, and in spite of your forbiddance
I shall go. Tell me what manner of man this is that you speak of,
and I will avoid him. Even though he overcome you in the horse
fight he shall not take me from you."

"He is a great viking," answered Sigurd. "Men name him Klerkon
Flatface. It is the same who sold you into bondage."

A cloud came upon Olaf's brow, and he sat down upon the side of
the trestle bed.

"Klerkon Flatface?" he repeated slowly. Then raising his eyes