o the
great stone heaps, dreaming of no harm.

"And, Gunbjor," the Skull-Splitter heard the little girl say, "you don't
really believe that there are trolds and fairies in the mountains, do
you?"

"Them as are wiser than I am have believed that," was Gunbjor's answer;
"but we don't hear so much about the trolds nowadays as they did when my
granny was young. Then they took young girls into the mountain and----"

Here came a wild, piercing yell, as the Sons of the Vikings rushed
forward from behind the rocks, and with a terrible war-whoop swooped
down upon the road. Wolf-in-the-Temple, who led the band, seized the
horse by the bridle, and flourishing his sword threateningly, addressed
the frightened peasant lass.

"Is this, perchance, the Princess Kunigunde, the heir to the throne of
my good friend, King Bjorn the Victorious?" he asked, with a magnificent
air, seizing the trembling little girl by the wrist.

"Nay," Gunbjor answered, as soon as she could find her voice, "this is
the Deacon's Maggie, as is going to the saeter with me to spend Sunday."

"She cannot proceed on her way," said the chieftain, decisively, "she is
my prisoner."

Gunbjor, who had been frightened out of her wits by the small red- and
blue-cloaked men, swarming among the stones, taking them to be trolds
or fairies, now gradually recovered her senses. She recognized in Erling
the Lop-Sided the well-known features of the parson's son; and as
soon as she had made this discovery she had no great difficulty in
identifying the rest. "Never you fear, pet," she said to the child in
her lap, "these be bad boys as want to frighten us. I'll give them a
switching if they don't look out."

"The Princess Kunigunde is my prisoner until it please her noble father
to ransom her for ten pounds of silver," repeated Wolf-in-the-Temple,
putting his arm about little Maggie's waist and trying to lift her from
the saddle.

"You keep yer hands off the child, or I'll give you ten pounds of
thrashing," cried Gunbjor, angrily.

"She shall be treated with the respect due to her rank,"
Wolf-in-the-Temple proceeded, loftily. "I give King Bjorn the Victorious
three moons in which to bring me the ransom."

"And I'll give you three boxes on the ear, and a cut with my whip, into
the bargain, if you don't let the horse alone, and take yer hands off
the child."

"Vikings!" cried the chief, "lay hands on her! Tear her from the saddle!
She has defied us! She deserves no me