He seized a long pole, upon
the end of which a sharp hook was fixed, and struck at the treacherous
bird. The hook stuck fast in the eagle's back, and Loki could not loose
his hold of the other end of the pole. The great bird soared high
above the tree-tops, and over the hills, and carried the astonished
mischief-maker with him.

But it was no eagle. It was no bird that had thus outwitted the hungry
gods: it was the giant Old Winter, clothed in his eagle-plumage. Over
the lonely woods, and the snow-crowned mountains, and the frozen sea,
he flew, dragging the helpless Loki through tree-tops, and over jagged
rocks, scratching and bruising his body, and almost tearing his arms
from his shoulders. At last he alighted on the craggy top of an iceberg,
where the storm-winds shrieked, and the air was filled with driving
snow. As soon as Loki could speak, he begged the giant to carry him back
to his comrades,--Odin and Hoenir.

"On one condition only will I carry you back," answered Old Winter.
"Swear to me that you will betray into my hands dame Idun and her golden
key."

Loki asked no questions, but gladly gave the oath; and the giant flew
back with him across the sea, and dropped him, torn and bleeding and
lame, by the side of the fire, where Odin and Hoenir still lingered. And
the three made all haste to leave that cheerless place, and returned to
Odin's glad home in Asgard.

Some weeks after this, Loki, the Prince of Mischief-makers, went to
Bragi's house to see Idun. He found her busied with her household cares,
not thinking of a visit from any of the gods.

"I have come, good dame," said he, "to taste your apples again; for I
feel old age coming on apace."

Idun was astonished.

"You are not looking old," she answered. "There is not a single gray
hair upon your head, and not a wrinkle on your brow. If it were not for
that scar upon your cheek, and the arm which you carry in a sling you
would look as stout and as well as I have ever seen you. Besides, I
remember that it was only a year ago when you last tasted of my fruit.
Is it possible that a single winter should make you old?"

"A single winter has made me very lame and feeble, at least," said Loki.
"I have been scarcely able to walk about since my return from the North.
Another winter without a taste of your apples will be the death of me."

Then the kind-hearted Idun, when she saw that Loki was really lame, went
to the box, and opened it with her golden key