made he said to Regin: "Sayest thou that this dragon is no
greater than other such beasts? Methinks he leaves tracks behind him
that are strangely well marked."

"There is naught to fear," said Regin. "Make thee a hole and sit down
in it, and when the dragon comes to drink, smite him through the
heart, and so shalt thou win for thyself great fame."

"But," said Sigurd, "what will happen when the burning blood of the
dragon falls upon me?"

Now Regin well knew that no man could endure that frightful stream and
live, and he wished to make an end of Sigurd when he had slain the
beast. Therefore he answered wrathfully: "Of what use is it to give
advice if thou art fearful of everything? Not like thy kin art thou,
careless of perils."

With this undeserved taunt he rode away, for he himself was sore
afraid, and dared not abide the coming of the dragon.

So Sigurd rode alone over the heath, and when he came to the marks
where the tracks lay deep he began to dig a pit, as Regin had told
him. But while he was busy at work an old man, wearing a big grey hat
over his face, passed by and asked what he was doing. And when he had
been told, he said:

"That was no wise advice that was given thee. Rather dig trenches in
the midst of the dragon track, that the blood may run therein; and do
thou then crouch in one of these and run thy sword through his heart
as he drags his huge shape overhead."

And with these words he vanished.

Sigurd could not doubt the wisdom of this advice and he did as he had
been bidden; and when he heard the dragon approaching he hid himself,
his sword ready in his hand.

The roar of the dragon shook the earth for miles around, and Sigurd
saw streams of venom issuing from his jaws as he drew near. But this
did not affright him; he waited until the huge shape loomed overhead,
and then thrust his sword, with all the strength he could command, as
far as it would go into the loathsome breast.

Then followed a scene of violence beyond the power of words to
express. A great roar, which shook the very heavens, went up from the
cavernous throat, and well it was for Sigurd that he darted aside with
the quickness of light. The huge coils unwound and contracted again in
the monster's agony, and the furious lashing of his enormous tail
utterly destroyed the surrounding vegetation, while his cruel talons,
all powerless now to do aught else, ploughed deep furrows in the hard
and rocky soil. All nature seemed to