fiotli take meal from a certain
sack, and knead it and bake some bread. On returning home, Sigmund
asked whether his orders had been carried out. The lad replied by
showing the bread, and when closely questioned he artlessly confessed
that he had been obliged to knead into the loaf a great adder which
was hidden in the meal. Pleased to see that the boy, for whom he felt
a strange affection, had successfully stood the test which had daunted
his brothers, Sigmund bade him refrain from eating of the loaf, for
although he was proof against the bite of a reptile, he could not,
like his mentor, taste poison unharmed.

"For here, the tale of the elders doth men a marvel to wit,
That such was the shaping of Sigmund among all earthly kings,
That unhurt he handled adders and other deadly things,
And might drink unscathed of venom: but Sinfiotli was so wrought
That no sting of creeping creatures would harm his body aught."

The Werewolves

Sigmund now began patiently to teach Sinfiotli all that a warrior
of the North should know, and the two soon became inseparable
companions. One day while ranging the forest together they came
to a hut, where they found two men sound asleep. Near by hung two
wolf-skins, which suggested immediately that the strangers were
werewolves, whom a cruel spell prevented from bearing their natural
form save for a short space at a time. Prompted by curiosity, Sigmund
and Sinfiotli donned the wolf-skins, and they were soon, in the guise
of wolves, rushing through the forest, slaying and devouring all that
came in their way.

Such were their wolfish passions that soon they attacked each other,
and after a fierce struggle Sinfiotli, the younger and weaker, fell
dead. This catastrophe brought Sigmund to his senses, and he hung
over his murdered companion in despair. While thus engaged he saw two
weasels come out of the forest and attack each other fiercely until
one lay dead. The victor then sprang into the thicket, to return with
a leaf, which it laid upon its companion's breast. Then was seen a
marvellous thing, for at the touch of the magic herb the dead beast
came back to life. A moment later a raven flying overhead dropped a
similar leaf at Sigmund's feet, and he, understanding that the gods
wished to help him, laid it upon Sinfiotli, who was at once restored
to life.

In dire fear lest they might work each other further mischief, Sigmund
and Sinfiotli now crept home and pa