Looking up through the branches at the clear sky, he cried:--

"I am free! Free! Never again will I go back to that loathsome
Nibelung."

A bird in the tree began singing its sweet wood-song.

"How do you do, my little feathered friend!" said Siegfried. "I am sure
what you are singing is very sweet, but I cannot understand your words."

Then Siegfried cut a reed near by, and putting it to his lips, tried to
whistle answers to the little bird's notes.

His music did not sound much like the song of a bird.

"I give it up, my little friend," he said, and threw away the reed.


SIEGFRIED AND THE DRAGON

"I will blow you a song on my silver horn," said Siegfried to the bird.

"I often blow this little song. It is my call for a comrade. I long for
one. None better have ever come to me than the bears and foxes."

Loudly he blew his horn.

Soon there was a great crackling in the underbrush. The huge dragon
came, lashing its deadly tail, gaping its red jaws, and blowing out