The setting sun shot its long rays into
the deep valley.

There, arching over the river and reaching from the flowery
mountain-side to the very door of the gleaming castle, stood a shining
rainbow bridge.

"Lo! our castle! Our beautiful Valhalla!" cried the king. "Let us cross
over. It shall be our dwelling-place forevermore."

One by one they stepped upon the bridge.

As Wotan walked slowly and sadly over, he heard the wailing of the
Rhine-maidens in the river below:--

"Rhine-gold! Rhine-gold!
We long for your light!"

"I shall never be happy again," thought Wotan. "I have given my honor
for Valhalla. What an awful price I have paid!"

THE WALKUERE

A MATCHLESS SWORD

Many years passed. The giants lived on in their beautiful Valhalla.

But their king was sad.

He could not forget Alberich's curse. What if Alberich should in some
way gain possession of the ring again! He would destroy Valhalla.

"Oh, why was I not brave enough to give the ring back to the
Rhine-children!" sighed Wotan.

"If only it might again be a mere thing of beauty to gladden their
hearts, but so long as it is in the world, how many more will it not rob
of their happiness.

"Surely, some great hero must come who will be brave enough to slay the
dragon and give the ring back to its rightful owners."

Said Wotan to himself, "I shall make a mighty sword, and when the hero
comes, his sword will be ready for him."

Then the great Wotan wrought a matchless sword.

When it was finished, he took it and went into the forest. Straight he
went to the home of the bold robber Hunding.

It was a beautiful moonlight night when he reached Hunding's hut.

From the loud laughter and shouting that Wotan heard as he neared the
hut, he knew that Hunding and his friends were having a merry feast.

Wotan lifted the latch and entered.

The great, rude room was built around the trunk of a mighty ash tree.

The walls were made of roughly hewn logs.

The floors were covered with the skins of wild animals of the forest.

Mats of reeds and grasses hung upon the walls.

The huge fireplace was built of rough stones.

The mighty Wotan scowled upon the crowd.

Then, lifting the gleaming sword above his head, with one great lunging
blow, he buried the bright blade, even to its hilt, in the great ash
tree's quivering side.

Then, turning to the guests, he said:--

"The sword shall belong to him who can draw it from the ash tree's
he