rew near to the house and smote
thrice on the door with his battle-axe, and they were thundering knocks.
Then he leapt on to his horse and rode off a space and waited. Presently
Eric came out, but half clad, a shield in one hand and Whitefire in the
other, and, looking, by the bright moonlight he saw a huge black-bearded
man seated on a horse, having a great axe in one hand and the lamb
beneath his arm.

"Who art thou?" roared Eric.

"I am called Skallagrim, youngling," answered the man on the horse.
"Many men have seen me once, none have wished to see me twice, and some
few have never seen aught again. Now, it has been echoed in my ears that
thou hast vowed a vow to go up Mosfell against Skallagrim the Baresark,
and I am come hither to say that I will make thee right welcome. See,"
and with his axe he cut off the lamb's tail on the pommel of his saddle:
"of the flesh of this lamb of thine I will brew broth and of his skin I
will make me a vest. Take thou this tail, and when thou fittest it on
to the skin again, Skallagrim will own a lord," and he hurled the tail
towards him.

"Bide thou there till I can come to thee," shouted Eric; "it will spare
me a ride to Mosfell."

"Nay, nay. It is good for lads to take the mountain air," and Skallagrim
turned his horse away, laughing.

Eric watched Skallagrim vanish over the knoll, and then, though he was
very angry, laughed also and went in. But first he picked up the tail,
and on the morrow he skinned it.

Now the time was come when the matter must be tried, and Eric bade
farewell to Saevuna his mother, and Unna his cousin, and girt Whitefire
round him and set upon his head a golden helm with wings on it. Then he
found the byrnie which his father Thorgrimur had stripped, together with
the helm, from that Baresark who cut off his leg--and this was a good
piece, forged of the Welshmen--and he put it on his breast, and taking
a stout shield of bull's hide studded with nails, rode away with one
thrall, the strong carle named Jon.

But the women misdoubted them much of this venture; nevertheless Eric
might not be gainsayed.

Now, the road to Mosfell runs past Middalhof and thither he came. Atli,
standing at the men's door, saw him and cried aloud: "Ho! a mighty man
comes here."

Swanhild looked out and saw Eric, and he was a goodly sight in his
war-gear. For now, week by week, he seemed to grow more fair and great,
as the full strength of his manhood rose in him, like sa