Night set in. Grettir ate a hearty supper, and was right merry. But not so Thorhall, who had his misgivings. At bed-time the latter crept into a locked bedstead beside the hall; but Grettir said he would not go into a bed, he would lie by the fire in the hall. So he wrapped himself up in a long fur cloak and flung himself on a bench, with his feet against the posts of the high seat. The fur cloak was over his head, and he kept an opening through which he could look out. There was a fire burning on the hearth, a smouldering heap of glowing embers, and by the red light Grettir looked up at the rafters of the blackened roof. The smoke escaped by a _louvre_ in the middle. The wind whistled mournfully. The windows high up were covered with parchment, and admitted now and then a sickly yellow glare from the full moon, which, however, shone in through the smoke hole, silvering the rising smoke. A dog began to bark, then bay at the moon. Then the cat, which had been sitting demurely watching the fire, stood up with raised back and bristling tail, and darted behind some chests. The hall-door was in a sad plight. It had been so torn by Glam that it had to be patched up with wattles. Soothingly the river prattled over its shingly bed as it swept round the knoll on which stood the farm. Grettir heard the breathing of the sleeping women in the adjoining chamber, and the sigh of the housewife as she turned in her bed. Then suddenly he heard something that shook all the sleep out of him, had any been stealing over his eyes. He heard a heavy tread, beneath which the snow crackled. Every footfall went straight to Grettir’s heart. A crash on the turf overhead. The strange visitant had scrambled on the roof, and was walking over that. The roofs of the houses in Iceland are of turf. For a moment the chimney gap was completely darkened—the monster was looking down it—the flash of the red fire illumined the horrible face with its lack-lustre eyes. Then the moon shone in again, and the heavy tramp of Glam was heard as he walked to the other end of the hall. A thud—he had leaped down. Then Grettir heard his steps passing to the back of the house, then the snapping of wood showed that Glam was destroying some of the outhouse doors. Presently the tread was heard again approaching the house, and this time the main entrance. Grettir thought he could distinguish a pair of great hands thrust in over the broken door. In another moment he heard a loud snap—a long plank had been torn out of place, and the light of the moon shone in where the gap had been made. Then Glam began to unrip the wattles.