At that the giant at the head of the table started up so suddenly that the pulling out of his beard split the rock of the table into pieces, but none of the others stirred nor looked at him.

“I am Mahon McMahon,” cried the giant. “And what do you come seeking me for?”

“I have come here in search of little Phil Renardy,” cried the blacksmith boldly, “and I have been told that you are the one who can tell me where to find him.”

The giant looked at him in silence for a bit, and then he said, “Yes, I can tell you where to find him, and better than that, I can even show you where he is.”

He then led the way into a great stone chamber on beyond the hall, and it was glowing with fires, and there in it were a great number of young lads. It seemed to the blacksmith that there were hundreds of them, and they were all busy at some kind or other of metal work.

When Mahon McMahon came in, they stopped their work and stood back against the wall, and the blacksmith saw that not one among them looked to be more than seven years old, and they were all so much alike that they might have been brothers.

“If you are a friend of Phil Renardy, no doubt you can choose him from all others,” said the giant. “And now look about you, and if you can tell me at the first telling which is he, then you may take him away with you, and no harm to any one. But if you cannot tell me, then it was an ill hour for you when you entered my house, for you’ll never go out again.”

This frightened the blacksmith, but still he kept his wits about him and looked carefully from one lad to the other, but for the life of him he could not tell of a surety which was Phil Renardy, for he had no clear remembrance of him.

In order to gain time he said to the giant, “And are all these fine lads servants of yours?”

“They are,” replied Mahon McMahon, “and it has taken me a long time to gather them together.”

“You must be a good master,” went on Robert Kelly, “for they all look rosy and in good condition, and I’m sure you treat them well, and they must be fond of you.” He thought by talking in this way he might flatter the giant and put him in a good humor.

“That is a true word you have spoken,” said the giant, “and I’m sure you must be an honest man, so let us shake hands upon it.”

He held out his hand to the blacksmith, but when Bob Kelly looked at it, it was so thick and broad and cruel looking that he was afraid to trust his own hand to it. “For if he were to take the fancy,” thought Bob, “he could crush it as easily as I could crush a rotten potato.” So, instead of putting his hand into the giant’s, he put the plowshare in it, and the giant shut his fingers tight on it, so that it crumpled up as though the iron had no more strength in it than a piece of paper.

“Praises be it was not my hand he was squeezing,” thought Robert Kelly.

“You have a strong hand,” said the giant, “but you need a stronger than that if you’re to shake hands with Mahon McMahon.”

Then all the little lads burst into laughter, but through their laughter he thought he heard some one sighing, “Robert Kelly! Robert Kelly! I am here behind you.”

He turned about quickly, and there behind him was one lad among them who was not laughing. And like a flash the blacksmith seized hold of him and cried out, “This is Phil Renardy, and the one I would take with me.”

“Bad cess to you!” cried the giant, “but you’ve chosen rightly.”

Then all grew dark, but Robert Kelly kept tight hold of the boy he had chosen, and he could hear many voices about him, crying, “Happy Philip Renardy! Happy Philip Renardy!”

The next he knew the sun was shining, and he was lying on the grass at the top of the cliff, and the little lad was watching beside him.

“And are you of a truth the little Philip Renardy that’s been lost for so long?” asked Kelly.

“I am that one,” replied the lad, “and it is you that have saved me; and now let us be up and off, for my heart is aching within me for a sight of my mother.”

So the blacksmith rose up, and took the little lad’s hand and led him to the big house of the Renardys, and the lad seemed to know the way better than he did. And no sooner did Mrs. Renardy see him than she knew the lad as her son and was like to have gone distracted with the joy of it. That was a comfort to Bob Kelly, too, for all the time he had kept wondering whether by chance he might not have brought back the wrong boy with him.

When he at last left them and went back to his smithy, he found quite a crowd gathered there, talking about him, for when he hadn’t come back to the boat his friend had made sure the cliff had closed on him, and that mortal eye would never again behold him.

But when the people who had gathered heard his tale, there was great rejoicing, and all the bells of the village were rung, and a great crowd hurried away to the Renardy’s house, to get a glimpse of the boy who had been stolen by the giant.

Soon after his return, the boy began to grow again, but he never became very big, and there was always something a bit strange about him, though after a while he married and had children of his own who were fine stout fellows, and all of them were wonderful workers in metals.

As for Robert Kelly, his adventures were the making of him, for people came from everywhere to have him do their work for them, so as to have a chance to hear him tell his story. Moreover, Philip taught him some of the secrets of working with metal that he had learned in the giant’s house, so that he became quite famous.

But the giant was never heard of again, and no more sounds came from within the cliff house, so it was supposed that he had left that part of the country and chosen some other place as his dwelling.

THE STORY OF CONN-EDA

An Irish Tale

The new Queen was a cruel woman, and her hatred of Conn-eda was bitter and deep. She hated him because he was so handsome and free-hearted, and she hated him because he was so dear to his father, but most of all she hated him because every one looked to him as the one who would sometime be their king, and there was no knowing how soon that would be, for already his father was old and feeble.

After a while the young Queen had a child of her own, and then she hated Conn-eda worse than ever and was always plotting how she could get rid of him, for she wanted the kingdom to come to her own son.

Now there was a woman who lived down back of the castle in a poor tumble-down hut, and it was said that she knew more than a little about magic, and every one was afraid of her. She was the hen-wife, and had charge of all the chickens that belonged to the castle. She was a handsome woman and a strange one, and no one could tell whether she were young or old, and she might have been either.

One day the Queen went by herself down to the hut to visit the hen-wife, for she wished to ask her advice. She was not ashamed to go, either, because of the woman being an enchantress.

“Queen Durfulla,” said the hen-wife, “I know why you have come to me, and what you are after wanting.”

That surprised the Queen, and she said, “What is it I am wanting, then?”

“You are wanting to rid yourself of young Conn-eda, and it is for my advice you have come hither. But I am not one to give something for nothing. What reward will I have if I give you my advice?”

“What reward will you be wanting?” asked the Queen.

“It’s none so much and none so little. Give me enough wool to fill the hole between my arm and body when I set my hand on my hip with my elbow out, and give me enough red wheat to fill the hole I shall bore with my distaff, and my advice is yours for the asking.”

Well, the Queen could not help smiling at that, for it seemed but a small reward for any one to ask, and she gladly agreed to give it.

“Then have the wool and the wheat brought here to-morrow,” said the hen-wife. “Twenty cartloads of wool, and twenty cartloads of wheat will be none too much to fill the hollow between my arm and body and the hole I’ll make.”

The Queen thought that was a strange thing to say, and that the hen-wife must be dreaming, but all the same she was back at the hen-wife’s door the next day, and close after her came twenty cartloads of wool and twenty cartloads of wheat, with the horses pulling and the carters cracking their whips.

The hen-wife stood in the doorway with her hand on her hip and her elbow out, and the men took an armful of wool and put it in the hollow of her arm, but it fell through the hollow and inside the house. They stuffed another armful in between her arm and body, and the same thing happened to it. Not until the house was so full of wool that it could hold no more were they able to fill the hollow of the hen-wife’s arm as she stood in the doorway.

“And now for the wheat,” said the hen-wife.

Then she led them to her brother’s house which was close by, and climbed up on the roof. The roof was of peat, and she bored a hole down through the peat with her distaff, so that as fast as they poured the wheat into the hole, it ran down into the house, and not until the house was so full that it could hold no more could they fill the hole, too.

“Now I am satisfied,” said the hen-wife, but that was more than the Queen could say, for she was a mean woman. However, if the hen-wife could tell her how to rid herself of Prince Conn-eda, it was more to her than all the wheat and wool that ever were grown.

“Now listen well to what I tell you,” said the hen-wife. “You have paid me faithfully and fully, and I am ready to keep my part of the bargain, too. Far and far enough from here, there lies a great dark lake, and the name of it is Lough Erne. Under its waters lives the King of the Fiborg race, a race that lives in the water most happily. There, in the King’s garden, grow three golden apples. In his stable stands a grand black steed. In his castle lies the puppy-hound Samur, and great are the magic powers of that hound. You must send Conn-eda to get these things for you, and to fetch them back within a year and a day and it’s not a living being who can seek those things and not lose his life in the seeking, unless he has magic to help him.”

“But how can I send Conn-eda?” asked the Queen, “for he is not a child that he must do my bidding.”

“That also I will tell you,” replied the hen-wife.

She then brought out a chessboard and chessmen and gave them to the Queen. “Do you take these home with you,” she said, “and call Conn-eda to come and play a game of chess with you. I have set a charm on the men, and I have set a charm on the board, so that you will be sure to win; but before you play you must make a bargain with the Prince that whichever loses shall pay a forfeit to the winner, and the forfeit you shall ask of him is that he fetch to you the three things I have told you of. But be sure that you play only the one game, for after that is played the charm will lose its power.”

The Queen was pleased with the advice the hen-wife gave her, and she took the chessboard and the chessmen and promised to do in all things as she had been told. Then she hastened back to the castle.

No sooner was she there than she sent for Conn-eda to come and have a game of chess, and he came at her command and sat down at the board with her.

“It is not for nothing we will play together this day,” said the Queen, “but whichever loses shall pay a forfeit to the other, and the forfeit shall be whatever the winner chooses to demand.”

To this Conn-eda agreed. He had it in his head that the Queen was planning some trick against him, but he did not fear her, for he made sure he could beat her at the game.

So they sat down to play, and Conn-eda was a good player, and the Queen was a poor one, but it seemed as though there were a mist before the Prince’s eyes, and when he thought he had made one play he found he had made another, and presently he saw he had lost the game, and the Queen was the winner.

Then she laughed aloud and pushed the board from her. “The game is mine, Conn-eda,” she cried, “and it is for you to pay the forfeit. Whatever I ask for, that shall you pay, no matter what be the cost.”

When the Prince heard that, his heart was troubled within him, and he said to her, “What is that forfeit that you will demand of me?”

“This is the forfeit,” the Queen replied. “Within a year and a day you shall bring to me three golden apples, and a grand black steed, and the magic puppy-hound Samur and they all belong to the King of the Fiborg people. He lives at the bottom of Lough Erne, but where that is I know not, and you must find it for yourself.”

When the Prince Conn-eda heard that, he knew the Queen had indeed tricked him, and the forfeit he was like to pay was that of his life. But he dissembled and hid his fear, and said, “The forfeit I will pay, if it be in mortal power to do so. And now we will play another game, and again it shall be for a forfeit, with the loser to pay it.”

The Queen was so full of triumph that she forgot the warning of the hen-wife and willingly agreed to play once more with Conn-eda.

But now the magic had gone out of the board, and this time the Prince was the winner.

When the Queen found she had lost, her face grew pale, and her heart sank down within her.

“You have won, Conn-eda,” said she. “And what is the forfeit I must pay to you?”

“The forfeit is this,” said Conn-eda. “For the year and the day that I am away, you must sit at the top of the highest tower of the castle and eat nothing but as much red wheat as you can pick up with the point of your bodkin.”

That was a hard fate for the Queen, but after all, it would be only for a year and a day, and at the end of that time she would be free again and rid of Prince Conn-eda forever, so the bargain was not so hard as it seemed at first hearing. So the Queen went up and took her place in the high tower, and the Prince mounted his horse and rode out into the world in search of the golden apples, the grand black steed, and the magic puppy-hound Samur.

But first Conn-eda went to a Wise Man he knew, who was a friend of his. Many and many a favor the Prince had done for him, and now it was time to ask one in return.

The Wise Man heard Conn-eda galloping up and came out of the house to meet him, and the Prince lighted down from his horse and greeted him respectfully.

“I am in great trouble,” Conn-eda began, “and I have come to you to see if you can help me.”

“That I guessed at once from your face,” replied the Wise Man, “and you had best begin at the beginning and tell me the whole story, for it’s only after I’ve heard the whole of it that I’ll best know how to help you.”

So the Prince began and told the Wise Man the whole matter from beginning to end. He told of the Queen’s hatred toward him and of the ways she had tried to injure him; he told of how she had bidden him to play a game of chess with her, and of how he had feared her and yet made no doubt of winning the game; and he told of how in some strange way he had become the loser, and how the Queen had claimed a forfeit from him, and what it was she had claimed.

“And we played still again, and that time it was for her to pay the forfeit”; and he told what the forfeit was that he had demanded of her.

“And it was no more than her just dues,” said the Wise Man. “I make no doubt but that the Queen has sought to make you lose your life in this business, and it was a clever brain that thought out this trick. There is some one back of it other than the Queen.”

He thought for a while, and then he spoke again. “There is but one person who would have known of the golden apples, the grand black steed, and the magic hound Samur, and that one is the Wise Woman who lives in the hut down back of the palace. She calls herself a hen-wife, but of a truth she is Carlleach of Lough Corib, and the sister of the Water King himself. There are four of the water people, three brothers and one sister. The first is King of the Fiborgs, and the second is under some enchantment. The third lives in a house next to that of the hen-wife, and the fourth is Carlleach herself. And now, my son, I will do what I can to help you. Where Lough Corib is I know not, but out in my stable is a little shaggy black horse. He is not much to look at, but he is great in power. Take him and ride whithersoever he carries you, and leave the rein loose on his neck that he may choose his own way. He will take you to the crag where the Bird of Wisdom sits. Three days in every three years the bird sits there, and it’s little that goes on in the world that he does not know about. This is the time for him to be sitting on the crag, and if he will but speak, he can tell you how to set about finding the lake and the Water King’s treasures.”

The Wise Man then took out a very beautiful and very precious jewel from a box that stood on a shelf behind the door and gave it to Conn-eda.

“If the Bird of Wisdom will not speak,” said he, “give him this jewel in his claw, and then it may be that he will answer you.”

Conn-eda took the jewel and thanked the Wise Man kindly, and then he went out to the stable and led forth the shaggy little black horse and mounted himself on him, instead of his own fine steed, and indeed the little horse was not much to look at. But no sooner was Conn-eda on his back than he found what a worth-while horse he was, for away he went lighter than a bird and swifter than the wind, and it was like no other riding that Conn-eda had ever done.

A long way and a short way went the shaggy black horse, and all the while Conn-eda let the rein lie loose, so that the horse was free to choose his own way, and then they came within sight of a cliff, and on the cliff sat a great gray bird. It sat so still it might have been a part of the rocks for any motion that it had, and the eyes in its head were as dull as cold, dead stones.

The horse halted before the cliff and bade the Prince speak to the bird. “For it is the Bird of Wisdom of which the Wise Man spoke,” said he, “and unless it can tell us what to do next we might as well turn back the way we came for we’ll never win to the lake where the King of the Fiborgs lives.”

Then Conn-eda lifted up his voice and called to the bird. Three times he called to it, but the bird never stirred even a feather, but sat there still as though it were carved from the rocks.

Then the shaggy steed said, “Give it the jewel, Conn-eda, and perchance it will speak.”

The Prince took the jewel from his bosom where he carried it and held it up so that it sparkled in the sunlight, and again he called to the bird; and this time it turned its head and looked at him, and its eyes grew bright as though a fire were lighted within it. Then it flew down and caught the jewel in its claw and flew back with it to the cliff.

There it sat, and opened its beak, and cried in a harsh voice, “Conn-eda! Conn-eda! Son of the King of Cruachan, I know why you have come and what you would have of me. Light down and lift the stone that is close to the right forefoot of your steed. Under it you will find a ball and a cup. Take them up, for you will have need of both of them. The ball you must roll before you and follow wherever it leads you. It will bring you to the place whither you would go. The cup you will need later.”

Then the Bird of Wisdom closed its beak, and the light died out of its eyes, and again it sat as still and gray as though there were no breath of life in it.

Conn-eda lighted down and looked for the stone the bird had told him of, and he could not miss it for the horse’s right fore hoof was against it. He lifted it up and there he found a cup and ball. The cup he placed in the bosom of his shirt, but the ball he threw before him, according to the bird’s bidding, and on and on it rolled, up hill and down dale, over bog and through briars, with Conn-eda on the shaggy steed following hard after it.

After a while it led them to the edge of a lake so dark and deep you might have thought there was no bottom to it, and into this lake the ball bounded and so was lost to sight.

The Prince was in despair. “Now what are we to do?” cried he. “If we follow the ball, we are like to be drowned in the deep waters of the lough, and if we do not follow it, we will never win to the palace of the Water King.”

But the shaggy steed bade him take heart. “We must indeed still follow the ball,” said he, “but even so it is possible no harm may come to us. And now sit tight, my master.” With that the horse plunged into the lough, and down and down through the still cold waters.

Conn-eda sat close, as the steed bade him, and presently they came through the water and out into a land of pleasant meadows and flowing streams. The lake was above them like a sky, with the sun shining down through it, and not a hair of either of them was wet, and the ball was lying there at their feet.

“Now Conn-eda, light down,” said the steed “and reach your hand first into one of my ears and then into the other. In the one you will find a small wicker basket, and in the other a flask of heal-all water. We will need them both, for now we are drawing near to the dangerous part of the adventure.”

The Prince did as he was told and put his hand into the horse’s ears, first into one and then into the other. In the one he found the wicker basket and in the other the flask of water. Then he mounted again and off he rode, and the ball that had been lying still all this time rolled before them to show the way, and they followed close after it.

After a bit they came to the end of the meadow and there was a great stretch of water with a causeway leading across it, and along the causeway rolled the ball. But Conn-eda drew rein, and no wonder, for the causeway was guarded by three great fiery serpents. They lay there stretched across and across it, and the smoke rose up from their breathing in three great columns, and as the Prince looked at them, his heart melted within him like wax, for they were a fearful sight.

But the shaggy steed bade him take heart. “It’s the truth, Conn-eda, that we must pass those fiery serpents,” he said. “Backward we cannot go, so forward we must. Now open the basket, and you will find in it three pieces of meat. As I leap over the serpents you must throw one piece into the mouth of each of them. If you do this, we may pass safely over them, and pray that your aim be good, for if you miss the mouth of any of them, it will be death both for you and me.”

So Conn-eda opened the lid of the basket and found the pieces of meat and took them out, and the steed set out along the causeway, straight toward where the monsters lay.

As horse and rider came near them, the serpents reared up and opened their fiery jaws, and made at Conn-eda and his steed as though to devour them; but the Prince was ready, and as the steed leaped over them Conn-eda threw a

piece of meat into each of the flaming mouths; not one of them did he miss.

At once the serpents were satisfied, and their heads sank down, and they lay as though asleep.

But the steed alighted on the causeway far beyond them, and Conn-eda’s hands held lightly to the reins.

“Conn-eda, are you still astride of me?”

“I am,” answered the Prince, “and none the worse for the danger we passed over.”

“Now it comes to me that you are a noble and heroic Prince,” said the steed, “and I have high hopes that we may win through all our adventures with great reward to both of us at the end of them.”

Then on they went, and on they went until they came to a flaming mountain, and the heat of it was very great.

“Are you sitting firm on my back?” asked the shaggy black horse.

“I am sitting firm,” replied the Prince.

“Then stir not. Look neither to the right nor left, nor up nor down, for I am going to leap over the mountain, and if my leap is broken by so much as a hairbreadth, we will both fall into the flames, and that will be the end of us.”

When Conn-eda heard this, fear seemed to clutch at the very heart of him, but he settled himself in the saddle, and when the horse leaped, he kept in mind what had been said to him, and looked neither to the right hand nor the left, nor up nor down, nor stirred so much as a hairbreadth in his seat.

The good steed carried him over, but they were not so high above the mountain but what the flames came up and licked Conn-eda’s feet and his clothing.

“Are you still alive, Conn-eda?” asked the steed, when they alighted upon the other side of it.

“I am just alive, and no more,” replied Conn-eda, “for I am greatly scorched.”

“That is both well and ill,” said the horse. “Well that you are still alive, and ill that you are so sore burned. Take the flask and rub some of the heal-all that is in it on your burns, and they will pass away.”

This Conn-eda did, and at once his burns disappeared as though they had never been there, and his flesh and skin were all well and sound again.

“The worst of our dangers are over now,” said the shaggy black horse, “but other things are still to be done that you may find hard in the doing. Now mount and ride again, and I can tell you we are not far from the palace of the Water King, whither we would be going.”

Conn-eda mounted again, and on they rode and fast they went, and then they came within sight of a castle, with shining domes and turrets, and great golden gateways.

Here the shaggy steed bade the Prince again light down.

“Now, Conn-eda, listen well and answer truly,” said the steed, “for on what happens next hangs both your fate and my own. So now tell me of a truth, have I served you well?”

“None could have served better,” replied the Prince.

“Have I saved your life, or have I risked it?”

“You have saved it, and except for you I would have lost it far back on the road.”

“And now the time has come to prove whether or no you are grateful. Put your hand in my ear and take out the dagger you will find there. Fear not and shrink not, but drive it into my heart, for thus and thus only can you reward me for what I have done for you.”

When the Prince heard these words from the steed, he was filled with horror. “Never, never will I do such a cruel and wicked thing,” he cried. “Rather would I drive the dagger into my own heart than into yours.”

“If you will not, you will not,” said the shaggy black horse, “but this I tell you plainly; except you do this thing, both you and I must perish.”

Well, the steed talked on and on, and at last Conn-eda consented to do as he was asked, though it seemed to him his hand must wither in the doing.

“That is well,” cried the steed, as soon as he had consented. “And now I will tell you what further you must do. As soon as you have driven the dagger into me, strip off my hide, and get into it yourself. You will then be free to go in and out of the castle as you please, though otherwise you would be slain by the people there the moment you entered. Go through the golden gateway in the center, and the first thing you will see is a leaping silver fountain. Fill the cup you found beneath the stone with this water and bring it back and sprinkle the water over me. Then all will be well. But oh, Conn-eda, haste in your going and coming, for as soon as you have left me, the birds of prey will gather about me, and if they tear me to pieces, there will be no further help for me.”

Conn-eda promised to do in all things as the steed bade him, and he then put his hand in its ear and found the dagger it had told him about. But he trembled so that he had scarce strength to even so much as point the dagger at the steed, let alone strike him. But this was all that was needed, for as soon as the dagger was turned toward him, it flew forward, carrying Conn-eda’s hand with it, and buried itself to the hilt in the steed’s heart, so that he fell dead.

Then the Prince wept bitter tears over his dead companion. After awhile he arose and took the dagger to strip off the hide as he had promised; but there was no need of cutting, for no sooner did he catch hold of the hide than it came off like a loose glove from the hand within it, and the hide was as soft and fine as though it had been tanned by the king of tanners.

Conn-eda got into the hide, and then he did not stay nor tarry but hastened away to the castle, as the steed had bidden him, and in through the golden gateway.

There within was a great hall with many people moving about in it, and warders at the door, but no one spoke to him nor stayed him. In the center of the hall was the leaping silver fountain of which the steed had told him, and to this the Prince hastened and he filled his cup with its water, and then back he ran the way he had come, to where the steed was lying.

But swift as had been his going and coming, he was only just in time, for already the birds of prey were gathering, and he had to fight them with his sword before he could drive them away.

Then he sprinkled the water from the cup upon the body of the steed, and no sooner had he done this than a strange thing happened, for at once the steed was gone, and there in its place stood a young and handsome prince, and he was so tall and so noble in his air that Conn-eda had never seen the like of him.

The young man came over to Conn-eda and took him in his arms, and his face was streaming with tears, but they were tears of joy.

“Conn-eda,” said he, “you have saved me from a hard and cruel fate, and little did I think I would ever come back into my own shape again and live as other men do. I am own brother to the Water King, and it was because of a cruel enchantment that I was obliged to go about in the shape of a shaggy little black horse.

“The enchantment held me fast, and only if one would ride me back to the castle and through true love would slay me and sprinkle me with water from the fountain, could the spell be broken.

“This you have done for me, Conn-eda, and never will I forget what I owe you. And now come with me back to the castle of my brother, that he may make you welcome.”

So Conn-eda and his companion went back to the castle, and there the joy was so great that it was beyond all telling, because the enchantment had been broken, and the young Prince had come back to his own again.

The Water King made Conn-eda welcome and gladly promised him the golden apples, the grand black steed and the magic hound Samur. Nothing would he have refused Conn-eda because he had saved his brother from his enchantment.

A great feast was prepared, and there was shouting and rejoicing, and the Water King begged of Conn-eda that he would stay there till the time given him for his searching was near an end.

To this the Prince gladly agreed, and he lingered there with the Water King and his brother until a year and a day had almost passed, and then he set off for his father’s kingdom. He rode the grand black steed, and in his bosom he bore the golden apples, and the magic hound Samur ran beside him. So he rode; and now the way was clear with nothing to stop nor stay him. Thus he came again to his home, and there, on the high tower, the wicked queen was still sitting, feeding on red wheat, that she took up on the point of her bodkin.

But though the living was lean, her heart rejoiced within her, for she made no doubt but what the Prince Conn-eda was dead, and her own son would reign in the kingdom. And then, on the last day of her forfeit, she looked out from the tower where she was sitting, and there came Conn-eda riding the black steed, and with the hound beside him, and she guessed well that he had also the apples with him.

Then her rage and fear were so great that she threw herself down from the tower and so perished miserably.

But Conn-eda sent for the hen-wife, who was a Princess, and when he saw her she was so handsome and so stately, and withal so tender, that his heart went out to her, and he wished for nothing so much as to have her for a wife.

To this she consented, and they were married with great magnificence. The Water King and his brother came to the wedding, and the third Prince, who had been living near her, was given a high position in the court, and so they all lived in great love and happiness forever.

THE BLUE BELT

A Norse Tale

After a while they came to where the road led through a forest, and the lad made some excuse to step aside for a moment. He slipped along from one tree to another until he was out of his mother’s sight; and then he ran back to where the blue belt was lying. He picked it up and buckled it around him under his shirt where it could not be seen.

No sooner had he done this, than he felt as though the strength of ten men had passed into him. It seemed to him as though he could tear up trees by the roots if he chose, or carry a mountain on his shoulders and think nothing of it.

When he came back, his mother was in a fine rage. “I ought to beat you for keeping me waiting all this time,” she cried, “and I would do it, too, if I were not so tired. Wherever we’re to sleep I’m sure I don’t know, for it’s too late now to get on to the next village.”

The boy answered nothing, but he trudged along at his mother’s side, and all the while he was feeling stronger and stronger.

After a while the old woman said she was tired, and she would have to sit down and rest a bit.

The lad asked leave to go to the top of a cliff close by, so as to look about and see whether he could not see a house somewhere near.

“Go if you choose,” said his mother, “but if you stay away as you did before, I’ll give you a good beating when you get back, however tired I am.”

The lad ran quickly to the top of the cliff and looked about him, and there, sure enough, off toward the North, he saw the light of a house, and it was not so very far away, either.

He ran down and told his mother what he had seen. “Mother, let us go there and ask for a bite to eat, for if we don’t, we’ll have to go hungry till to-morrow,” he cried. “And maybe the people who live there will let us spend the night there, too.”

The mother began to groan and lament. “Never in the world could I climb up that cliff and over,” said she. “I’m so tired I can scarce put one foot before the other, and that’s the truth of the matter.”

“Never bemoan yourself about that,” cried the lad, “for I’ll carry you over”; and so saying, he caught her up as though she weighed no more than a feather, and ran up the cliff and over, and down on the other side with her; and when he put her down he was not even breathing fast from carrying her.

“You’ve grown to be a strong, stout lad, and there’s no doubt about that,” said his mother.

After that they went along again until they came to the house with the light in it, and when they got up close to it, the mother began to shake and tremble.

“Come away! Come away!” said she. “This is a Troll’s house, and it would be a bad thing for us if he were to get hold of us.”

But the lad was not one whit afraid. He knocked at the door, and then, before any one could answer the knock, he opened the door and stepped inside, dragging his mother with him.

There, on a great settle by the fire, sat a man at least twenty feet high, and it was easy enough to tell by the look of him that he was a Troll.

The mother almost fainted with terror, but the lad spoke up as bold as bold could be, for he felt the strength inside of him and feared nobody. He told the Troll that he and his mother were footsore and weary, and he asked whether they might come in and rest a bit.

The Troll told him he and his mother were welcome, and then he made the lad sit down and they talked of one thing and another, but the woman was so frightened she just crept into a corner and groaned every time the Troll looked at her.

After a while the lad asked the Troll whether he could not give him and his mother a bite of supper, for they were hungry as well as weary.

Yes, the Troll could do that, too.

He went outside and came back with a whole load of wood in his arms, as much as two horses could haul. This he threw upon the fire and stirred it up into a blaze.

And now the woman began to shake and shiver as though she would fall to pieces, for she thought for sure the Troll was making ready to cook her and her son for supper; but instead he brought in a whole ox and put it over the fire to roast. When it was done, he took out a great silver platter from the cupboard, and the platter was so large that when he put the ox on it, not any part of the ox hung over the edge. He also set out on the table knives and forks, each six feet long, and a great hogshead for a drinking cup.

When all this was done, he said to the lad, “Draw up and eat and drink as you are able.”

The lad bade his mother come, too, but she would not, so he took up the knife and fork with no trouble at all to himself and cut a slice from the ox and carried it to her. After she had eaten, he lifted the hogshead down from the table, and then he carried her over to it and lowered her down into it so she could drink.

He himself, after he had eaten, climbed to the edge of the hogshead and hung himself over into it head downward, and drank till he was satisfied. After a while the Troll said he might as well have a bite of supper himself. So he went to the table and ate all that was left of the ox—the meat and the bones and the horns and hoofs of it—and drained off all that was in the hogshead at one draught.

Not long afterward it was time to go to bed, and the Troll did not know how to manage that.

“There’s only the bed I sleep in, and a cradle,” said the Troll.

But when the lad came to look at the cradle, it was as long and wide as any bed he had ever seen.

“This will do for me,” said he.

So it was settled that he should sleep in the cradle and his mother in the bed, though it was so enormous that she shook and shivered at the very thought of getting into it, and if she had had her choice, she would have stayed all night in the corner.

After they were all settled, the lad thought to himself, “I’d best stay awake and listen how things go on through the night, for there’s no knowing what this Troll may intend to do to us before morning.” But he lay there very quiet and kept his eyes shut, and now and then he snored a bit, so the Troll thought he was asleep.

Presently the Troll began to talk to the woman. “Do you think that lad of yours is asleep?” he asked of her.

“He must be from the way he’s snoring,” she answered.

“Then, listen,” said the Troll. “It has come into my head that you and I could live here very happily together if we could only get rid of him, for to tell you the truth I have no liking for the way he goes about things.”

“I’m sure I don’t know how you can do anything with him,” said the woman, “for he seems to have grown very strong all of a sudden.”

Oh, the Troll had a plan that would do for the lad. The next morning he would ask the woman and her son to stay there with him for a day or so, and she was to agree. Then sometime in the morning he would take the lad out to the quarry with him to get out some cornerstones, and once there, it would be easy enough in one way or another to send him down to the bottom of the quarry, and then roll a rock down on him and crush him.

To this plan the woman consented, and all the while they talked the boy lay there and listened, though he breathed with his mouth open as though he were still sleeping.

The next day the woman got up early and cooked breakfast for them, and after they had all eaten, the Troll said, wouldn’t she stay there and keep house for him for a day or so.

“There’s nothing to take me elsewhere,” answered the woman.

Not long after, the Troll took up a crowbar that he kept over in a corner.

“I’ll just go over to the quarry and get out a few cornerstones while you are cooking the dinner,” said he. He then asked the lad whether he would go along with him.

“Yes, and gladly,” answered the lad; so the two set out together.

They worked for awhile at the top of the quarry, and then the Troll told the lad to go down to the bottom of it and see whether there were any loose stones lying around down there.

The lad was willing to do that, too. He went on down toward the bottom of the quarry. No sooner was he gone than the Troll set to work with his crowbar. He worked so hard that he groaned and sweated, and presently he loosened a whole crag and sent it rolling down on the boy.

But the lad saw it coming and was ready for it. He put out his hands and stopped it until he could get out of the way, and then he let it roll on to the bottom. After that he went back to where the Troll was.

“I couldn’t find any loose rocks down there so now do you go down and look for some,” he said.

The Troll was frightened when he saw the lad had come back to the top of the quarry unharmed. He thought he would certainly have been crushed under the crag that had rolled down on him. Neither did the Troll want to go down there below, but he had to.

Then the lad took up the crowbar and pried out another crag, and it rolled down on the Troll and hurt him so that he could not move, but lay where he was groaning. The boy had to go down and roll the crag off him and pick him up and carry him back to the house, and all the while the Troll kept on groaning most terribly. When they got home, the lad put the Troll to bed and he was hurt so badly he had to lie there.

That night the lad stayed awake again and listened, and presently the Troll and the woman began to talk things over again.

“I tell you he’s a dangerous one,” said the woman, “and I’m sure I don’t see how you’re ever to get rid of him.”

“I have a brother,” said the Troll, “and he has a walled-in garden, and in the garden are twelve fierce lions. If we could find some excuse for getting the lad there, they would very quickly tear him to pieces.”

“Then I will find the excuse,” said the woman. “To-morrow I will say that I am very poorly, and that nothing in the world will cure me except a few drops of lions’ milk. Then you must tell about the lions in your brother’s garden, and I’ll beg and entreat him until he’ll agree to go off there to get some for me.”

This plan pleased the Troll, and it was settled between them that as she said so they would do.

The next morning the woman did not get up to cook the breakfast, but lay in bed, moaning.

“What ails you, mother?” asked the lad.

“Oh I’m ill. I’m very ill,” replied the woman.

“I’m sorry for that,” said her son, “but I’m sure I don’t know what would make you better.”

“If I had but a few drops of lions’ milk, that would cure me,” groaned the woman.

“That’s a hard thing to get,” replied the lad; “and if that’s the only thing to cure you, I fear you’ll be ailing a long time.”

Then the Troll spoke up and said he knew where such milk was to be had. “But it takes a brave heart and a strong arm to get it, and that’s the truth,” said the Troll. He then told about his brother’s walled-in garden and the lions that were in it, and he said that if any one had the courage to go for it, ’twas there the milk was to be had.

The woman at once began to beg and entreat the lad to go and get it for her. He did not say no. “Though,” said he, “I think it is but little good the milk will do you, and that’s the truth.”

The Troll told him exactly where the garden was, and he gave him a key to the gate of it, so he would have no trouble in getting in. The lad took the key and a milking pail, and off he set. The Troll and the woman had no other thought than that was the end of him.

On and on he went, one foot before the other, and after a while he came to the garden, and then he took out the key and unlocked the door and stepped inside.

No sooner had he done this than he saw twelve great lions, each one fiercer and larger than the other, and they came at him ramping and roaring so that he was almost deafened by the noise of it, and their teeth were terrible to see.

But the lad was no whit frightened. He caught hold of the foremost lion, and tore it in two, and scattered it in pieces all about him.

When the other lions saw that, all the fierceness went out of them, and they crawled to his feet, and fawned on him, and became as tame as dogs.

The lad patted them, and then he milked a few drops into the milk pail and started for home with it, but the lions would not be left behind. They followed after him close at his heels, as dogs follow their master.

After a while he came within sight of the Troll’s house, and at that very moment the woman happened to be looking out of the window, and there she saw him coming along, with the eleven lions following after him. Then she was terribly frightened, and she called to the Troll, and together they barred all the doors and windows, so the lions could not get in at them.

The lad came to the door and tried to open it, and when he found it was fastened, he called to them to let him in, but they would not until he made the lions lie down outside, and promised they should stay there.

When he went in, there stood his mother shaking and trembling.

“Well, mother, here is the lions’ milk,” he said, “and I’m sure I hope it may make you well again.”

The woman was obliged to drink the milk, though she did not want it.

That night the Troll and she began talking together after they thought the lad was sleeping. But he was wide awake and heard all they said between them, though they spoke in whispers.

“This son of yours is so strong I don’t see how we’re ever to get rid of him,” said the Troll.

“Well, if you don’t know, I’m sure I don’t,” replied the woman.

“There’s one other plan we might try,” said the Troll. “I have two more brothers who live not so very far away from here in a castle, and they are very strong and terrible. Round about the castle is an orchard that bears apples all the year round, and any one who so much as tastes of those apples at once falls into a deep sleep, and nothing can waken him till he has had his sleep out, and the sleep lasts for three days and three nights. If we could but send the lad there after the apples, he would be sure to eat of them, and fall asleep, and then my brothers would find him there and tear him to pieces for they come out every day to walk in the garden and so would be sure to find him.”

“If that is the way of it, we’ve no need to worry,” said the woman, “for I’ll find a way to send him there.”

The next day the woman said she still was not able to get up. She lay there in the bed, moaning and groaning.

“I’m sorry to see you so ailing, mother, but I’m sure I don’t know what to do about it.”

“If I but had some apples from the orchard that belongs to the Troll’s brothers, I’d be well enough,” said the woman, “and if you were but the good son you pretend to be, I know you’d fetch them for me.”

“I’ll fetch you the apples soon enough,” replied her son. “No trouble about that. Though to tell you the truth, I doubt whether they’ll cure you.”

The lad made no more ado about it, but off he set for the orchard, and the eleven lions followed close at his heels.

When he came to where the apple trees were, he climbed up into the one that bore the finest fruit, and ate and ate until he could eat no more. Then he came down and stretched himself out on the soft grass and fell into a deep sleep.

The eleven lions gathered about him and guarded him while he slept.

Now not long after this, the Troll’s two brothers came out into the orchard for a stroll, and there, the first thing they saw, was the lad lying under the finest of the apple trees fast asleep, with the apples lying all about him and one in his hand.

At that sight they flew into a fine rage, and they turned themselves into fierce man-eating steeds, and rushed at him to destroy him.

But before they had a chance even so much as to touch him, the eleven lions rose up and rushed at the two steeds and fought them, and tore them into small pieces and scattered them around like dung.

At the end of three days and three nights, the lad awoke and looked about him, and there were the lions still guarding him, but the ground was all dug up as though a battle had been fought there, and there were deep hoof marks, and pieces of the steeds were scattered all about the orchard. The lad looked and wondered, and he could not think what had been happening, but he was not a bit afraid, and he thought as long as he was there, he might as well go and have a look at the castle.

When he drew near to it, he saw a most beautiful maiden looking out from one of the windows, and at sight of her the lad’s heart melted within him for love of her, she was so beautiful.

“It is lucky for you that you had your lions with you just now,” said the maiden.

“Why is that?” asked the lad.

Then the maiden told him how the Trolls had gone out into the orchard a bit ago, when he was asleep under the apple tree, and how they had changed themselves into man-eating steeds and come at him to destroy him, and how the lions had then risen up and torn the Trolls to pieces.

The lad listened to her until she had made an end of the story, and then he said, “That is as it should be, and it was to guard me that I brought them hither.” Then he asked the maiden whether he might come in, and at first she would not let him, because she was afraid of the lions, but when he promised they should not harm her, but would lie down at the threshold as quiet as house cats, she opened the door to him.

The lad looked about him, and it seemed to him the castle was but a rough place for such a beauty to live in.

“I wonder,” said he, “that such a one as you should be living here with no better company than those two Trolls were.”

“It is not of my own will I am living here,” replied the maiden. Then she told him she was the daughter of the King of Arabia, and that she had been walking in her father’s garden one day, and the Trolls had appeared out of a forest near by, and carried her away with them, and she had been well-nigh scared out of her wits by it. But they had done her no harm, though they had kept her a prisoner here, and they intended that after a while one or other of them should take her as a wife. Then she asked the lad who he was, and where he had come from, and he told her all about it.

“You may be the son of a beggar, but all the same it seems to me you are something of a hero,” said the Princess, “and now we will see whether I am right about it.”

Then she led him into another room and showed him where two great swords were hanging on the wall.

“Those are the Trolls’ swords,” said the Princess, “and they are very heavy to handle. Now try whether you can lift one of them down from the wall, though I doubt whether you are strong enough.”

“That is an easy task you are setting me,” said the lad. He took a chair and set it on a table, and another chair on top of that; and then he climbed up on them, for the swords were so high on the wall that only in that way could he reach the place where they were hanging. Then he reached out and set one finger under the point of one of the swords, and tossed it up in the air and caught it, and he leaped down and flourished the sword about him, so that it whistled.

“Yes, I can see that you are indeed a hero,” said the Princess; “so now tell me: shall I go home to my father, the King of Arabia, or shall I stay here and be your wife?”

It did not take the lad long to make his choice in that matter.

“You shall stay here and be my wife,” said he, “for indeed I love you so dearly that if I cannot marry you, then I shall never marry any one.”

So the Princess stayed on in the castle, and she and the lad were very happy together.

But after some time had passed, the Princess said she ought to go back and see her father, for he did not know what had become of her, and no doubt he had grieved bitterly, thinking she was dead.

This reminded the lad that he had promised to take back the apples to his mother, and it was agreed between them that she should go back to Arabia, and that he should take the apples to his mother, and that then he should come after her to her father’s kingdom and claim her.

So the next day they set out, and the Princess went to the nearest seaport, and hired a vessel with some of the jewels she wore, and sailed back to Arabia. But the lad set out for the Troll’s house with the bosom of his shirt full of apples, and the lions following close at his heels.

When he came near the Troll’s house, his mother was looking out of the window, and no sooner did she see him than she began to shake and shiver.

“There is my son back again,” said she, “and indeed I feel terribly frightened.”

“He’s a strong one, and that’s the truth,” said the Troll, “and I wish we could find out what makes him so, for it’s not in nature for any one to be as strong as he is.”

“Perhaps there is indeed some secret about it,” said the woman, “and if there is, I may be able in some way to wheedle it out of him. At least I can do no better then try.”

So she made haste to open the door and welcome the lad back to his home again, but the lions had to stay outside, because both she and the Troll were afraid of them.

“And did you get the apples?” she asked of him.

Yes, he had the apples. “And I hope they’ll cure you, mother,” said he, “though I think you have little need of them, for I never saw you looking better.”

“Oh I’m still very ailing,” said she, “and I’ll eat the apples after a bit; but first do you sit down and have a bite of the good supper I’ve cooked for you.”

So the lad sat down, and the mother gave him his supper, and while he ate it, she sat beside him and talked to him.

“You’re a strong one,” said she, “and there’s no doubt about that.”

“Strong enough,” replied her son, still eating.

“And how did it all come about?” asked the woman. “For only a while ago you were a weakling, and it was I who had to help you over the rough places.”

“Now I’ll tell you,” said the lad, for he was sleepy from eating so much supper and scarce knew what he was saying. “It’s all because of that blue belt that we saw at the crossroads and that I wanted to pick up, and you forbade me.”

Then he told his mother the whole story, and the woman sat and listened, and the Troll listened, too, only he was hidden behind a door and the lad did not see him.

“And that’s the way the strength came to me,” said the lad, when he had made an end of the telling.

“And have you the belt on you now?” asked the woman.

“Yes, I have,” said the lad, and he opened his shirt and showed it to her.

Then, before he could stop her, the woman caught hold of the belt and tore it from him, and at once all his strength went out of him, so that he was helpless before her.

Then the Troll came from behind the door, and he and the woman made merry together because the lad was so helpless, and they talked together about what they should do with the lad to get rid of him. The woman was for taking him out to a high cliff and throwing him over, but the Troll said no, that was not bad enough for him. In the end the Troll put out the lad’s eyes, and set him adrift in a boat on the sea, and he and the woman thought that was the end of him.

But it was not, for the lions were faithful, and they had followed after, and when they saw the boat drifting away, they swam after it and caught the edge of the boat with their teeth, and brought it ashore on an island.

There they and the lad lived, and the lions took care of him, for the lad was helpless because he was blind. The lions found a cave for him to live in and caught birds and wild animals for him to eat, and the lad picked the feathers off the birds, and took the skins of the animals, and made a soft bed for himself, and always, while some of the lions were out hunting, others stayed with him to guard him and see that no harm came to him.

One day the oldest lion went out hunting, and he went a long way before he found anything. Then, after a while, he started up a hare, and it was blind. The lion chased the hare, and it went leaping along, and presently, because it was blind, it fell into a pool of water. As soon as the water touched its eyes, it could see again, and it scrambled out from the pool and escaped the lion.

The lion went back to where the lad was sitting in his cave, and took hold of his clothes, and began to pull at them. The lad did not know what the lion wanted of him, but he got up and allowed the lion to lead him. It led him on and on, until they came to the edge of the pool, and then the lion loosed his clothing and gave the lad such a push that he fell head over heels into the water. No sooner did the water touch his eyes than the blindness was all gone, and he could see again even better than before.

Then the lad rejoiced greatly, and he got into the boat and went back to the place where the Troll lived, and the lions swam after.

After he landed, he crept up toward the house very carefully, so that no one saw him, and peeped in at the door. The woman was busy at the dough-trough making up bread, and her back was toward him, and there was the blue belt hanging from a nail in the wall.

The lad crept in and seized it and put it around him, and then he began to shout and stamp about, and call to the woman and the Troll to come and catch hold of him.

The woman turned about, and when she saw the lad was there and the belt gone from the wall, she knew what had happened. She was terribly frightened, and began to coax and cajole him, and beg him to let her have the belt again.

But the lad would not listen to her. He threw open the door and called in the lions, and they soon made an end of her. Then they ran out and found the Troll, too, and tore him to pieces in spite of all his cries and prayers for mercy.

That was the end of them, and after that the lad was ready to set out for Arabia to claim the Princess as his wife, but he would not let the lions go with him for there was no need for them in that business.

The lad journeyed on and on, and after a while he came to Arabia, and there he heard a story of how the daughter of the King of that country had been stolen away by Trolls, and kept a prisoner for a long time but now she was home, and the King was so glad to have her back he said he would never let her leave him again. He had hidden her away, no one knew where, and when any one came to ask her hand in marriage the King said no one might have her but he who could find her, and if any one tried to find her and failed, he should have his head cut off.

Many kings and princes had lost their lives in this manner.

The lad listened and listened to everything that was said, and he thought to himself that he would be the next to have a try at finding the Princess, but he said nothing about it to any one.

One day the lad met a man who was selling white bearskins, and the lad stopped him and began talking to him. “I will tell you what we will do,” said he. “I will put on one of those bearskins, and then do you fasten a collar around my neck and lead me through the town by a chain, and I will dance and perform tricks.”

This plan pleased the man, and he readily agreed to it; so the lad put on the bearskin, and the man led him about by a chain, and everywhere the lad danced and performed in such a wonderful way that the people were amazed.

After a while it came to the King’s ears that such a beast was in the town, and that not only could it dance and perform tricks, but it could understand everything that was said to it.

The King became very curious to see the animal, and he sent word for the man to come to the palace and bring the bear with him.

The man at once set out for the palace, and on the way he said to the lad, “Now you must do your best, for if you can succeed in pleasing the King, he will be sure to pay us well.”