eat
bear, nor the were-wolf. For I am Gundhar's son, and the defender
of my folk."

Then the priest led the child in his raiment of lamb's-wool to a
broad stone in front of the fire. He gave him his little bow
tipped with silver, and his spear with shining head of steel. He
bound the child's eyes with a white cloth, and bade him kneel
beside the stone with his face to the east. Unconsciously the wide
arc of spectators drew inward toward the centre, as the ends of
the bow draw together when the cord is stretched. Winfried moved
noiselessly until he stood close behind the priest.

The old man stooped to lift a black hammer of stone from the
ground,--the sacred hammer of the god Thor. Summoning all the
strength of his withered arms, he swung it high in the air. It
poised for an instant above the child's fair head--then turned to
fall.

One keen cry shrilled out from where the women stood: "Me! take
me! not Bernhard!"

The flight of the mother towards her child was swift as the
falcon's swoop. But swifter still was the hand of the deliverer.

Winfried's heavy staff thrust mightily against the hammer's handle
as it fell. Sideways it glanced from the old man's grasp, and the
black stone, striking on the altar's edge, split in twain. A shout
of awe and joy rolled along the living circle. The branches of the
oak shivered. The flames leaped higher. As the shout died away the
people saw the lady Irma, with her arms clasped round her child,
and above them, on the altar-stone, Winfried, his face shining
like the face of an angel.

[Illustration--Then Winfried told the story of Bethlehem]

IV

THE FELLING OF THE TREE

IV

A swift mountain-flood rolling down its channel; a huge rock
tumbling from the hill-side and falling in mid-stream; the baffled
waters broken and confused, pausing in their flow, dash high
against the rock, foaming and murmuring, with divided impulse,
uncertain whether to turn to the right or the left.

Even so Winfried's bold deed fell into the midst of the thoughts
and passions of the council. They were at a standstill. Anger and
wonder, reverence and joy and confusion surged through the crowd.
They knew not which way to move: to resent the intrusion of the
stranger as an insult to their gods, or to welcome him as the
rescuer of their darling prince.

The old priest crouched by the altar, silent. Conflicting counsels
troubled the air. Let the sacrifice go forward; the gods must be
appeas