shadow of a great sorrow spread over the worlds. He began to
feel as if he were no longer the greatest of the gods, and he could
almost hear the rough shouts of the frost-giants crowding the rainbow
bridge on their way into Asgard. When trouble comes to men it is hard to
bear, but to a god who had so many worlds to guide and rule it was a new
and terrible thing. Odin thought and thought until he was weary, but no
gleam of light could he find anywhere; it was thick darkness
everywhere.

At last he could bear the suspense no longer, and saddling his horse he
rode sadly out of Asgard to Niflheim, the home of Hel, whose face was as
the face of death itself. As he drew near the gates, a monstrous dog
came out and barked furiously, but Odin rode a little eastward of the
shadowy gates to the grave of a wonderful prophetess. It was a cold,
gloomy place, and the soul of the great god was pierced with a feeling
of hopeless sorrow as he dismounted from Sleipner, and bending over the
grave began to chant weird songs, and weave magical charms over it. When
he had spoken those wonderful words which could waken the dead from
their sleep, there was an awful silence for a moment, and then a faint
ghost-like voice came from the grave.

"Who art thou?" it said. "Who breaketh the silence of death, and calleth
the sleeper out of her long slumbers? Ages ago I was laid at rest here,
snow and rain have fallen upon me through myriad years; why dost thou
disturb me?"

"I am Vegtam," answered Odin, "and I come to ask why the couches of Hel
are hung with gold and the benches strewn with shining rings?"

"It is done for Balder," answered the awful voice; "ask me no more."

Odin's heart sank when he heard these words; but he was determined to
know the worst.

"I will ask thee until I know all. Who shall strike the fatal blow?"

"If I must, I must," moaned the prophetess. "Hoder shall smite his
brother Balder and send him down to the dark home of Hel. The mead is
already brewed for Balder, and the despair draweth near."

Then Odin, looking into the future across the open grave, saw all the
days to come.

"Who is this," he said, seeing that which no mortal could have
seen,--"who is this that will not weep for Balder?"

Then the prophetess knew that it was none other than the greatest of the
gods who had called her up.

"Thou are not Vegtam," she exclaimed, "thou art Odin himself, the king
of men."

"And thou," answered Odin angrily, "ar