preparing to punish the intruder, when up started the giant. “Who are you?” demanded Thor. “Skrymner, the servant of king Utgardelok, just come from Jotunheim.” He addressed Thor by name, of whose feats he had heard much; but common report, he thought, had been too favourable; for after all, even _he_, who was of little esteem compared with his fellows, could put this hero of the gods in the palm of his right hand. “I have lost my gauntlet!” suddenly observed the giant, who groping for it, took it up. What was it but the strange hut in which Loke and the two mortals had passed the greater part of the night? All but Thor were dismayed at this commencement of their acquaintance with the subjects of Utgardelok; but Thor trusted in his hammer. “What brings you so far to look at a desert?” was the natural question of Skrymner. Thor replied, that he was determined to see, face to face, their boasted monarch, whose magic and frozen mountains he only ridiculed. The giant thought he might rue his boldness: however, if he was determined to proceed, let him do so, and he (Skrymner) would be his guide. When evening came, and the giant laid down to sleep under a great tree, until supper was ready, there was more magic. Neither Thialf, nor Loke, nor Thor himself, could open the wallet, or cut the strings. In great wrath the god seized his hammer, and struck at the forehead of the sleeping giant. “Has a leaf fallen on my face?” asked the giant, rubbing his face, and wondering why they had not gone to sleep. Towards midnight, the snoring of Skrymner so enraged Thor, that he arose, and aimed a hard and more vigorous blow at the monster: the hammer seemed to enter his very brain. “Has an acorn fallen?” was the cool observation of the other, as he rubbed his face. A third blow, which seemed to send the very handle into the giant’s head, had no better effect; so that Thor now began to have less confidence in the weapon which had hitherto terrified all created things.