is
running there; the man answered that his name was Skeggi, and that
he was a house-carle from the Ridge in Waterdale. "I am one of the
following of goodman Thorkel," he says, "but, faring heedlessly, I
have lost my meal-bag."

Grettir said, "<i>Odd haps are worst haps</i>, for I, also, have lost
the meal-sack which I owned, and now let us search both together."

This Skeggi liked well, and a while they go thus together; but all
of a sudden Skeggi bounded off up along the moors and caught up a
meal-sack. Grettir saw him stoop, and asked what he took up there.

"My meal-sack," says Skeggi.

"Who speaks to that besides thyself?" says Grettir; "let me see it,
for many a thing has its like."

Skeggi said that no man should take from him what was his own; but
Grettir caught at the meal-bag, and now they tug one another along
with the meal-sack between them, both trying hard to get the best of
it.

"It is to be wondered at," says the house-carle, "that ye Waterdale
men should deem, that because other men are not as wealthy as ye,
that they should not therefore dare to hold aught of their own in your
despite."

Grettir said, that it had nought to do with the worth of men that each
should have his own.

Skeggi answers, "Too far off is Audun now to throttle thee as at that
ball-play."

"Good," said Grettir; "but, howsoever that went, thou at least shall
never throttle me."

Then Skeggi got at his axe and hewed at Grettir; when Grettir saw
that, he caught the axe-handle with the left hand bladeward of
Skeggi's hand, so hard that straightway was the axe loosed from his
hold. Then Grettir drave that same axe into his head so that it stood
in the brain, and the house-carle fell dead to earth. Then Grettir
seized the meal-bag and threw it across his saddle, and thereon rode
after his fellows.

Now Thorkel rode ahead of all, for he had no misgiving of such things
befalling: but men missed Skeggi from the company, and when Grettir
came up they asked him what he knew of Skeggi; then he sang--

"A rock-troll her weight did throw
At Skeggi's throat a while ago:
Over the battle ogress ran
The red blood of the serving-man;
Her deadly iron mouth did gape
Above him, till clean out of shape
She tore his head and let out life:
And certainly I saw their strife."

Then Thorkel's men sprung up and said that surely trolls had not taken
the man in broad daylight. Thorkel grew silent, but said presently,
"The