[Illustration: BEOWULF ON HIS NOBLE STEED] "Scarcely a mile from this place, in the depths of a grove of moss- covered trees, which are hoary with age, and whose interlacing branches shut out the light of the sun, lies a stagnant pool. Around the edges of its foul black water twine the snake-like roots of the trees, and on its loathsome surface at night the magic fires burn dimly. In the midst of the pond, shunned alike by man and beast, lives the wolf-like mother of Grendel. Darest thou to enter its stagnant depths to do battle with the monster and to deliver us from her ravages?" Straightening his massive form and throwing back his head in fierce determination, Beowulf replied, "To avenge a friend is better than to mourn for him. No man can hasten or delay by a single moment his death hour. What fate awaiteth me I know not, but I dare anything to wreak vengeance on the foul murderer, and in my efforts to bring justice I take no thought of the future." Then the king Hrothgar ordered a noble steed with arching neck and tossing mane to be saddled and brought forth for the noble Beowulf to ride. Shield bearers by the score accompanied him as he rode on the narrow bridle path, between those dark-frowning cliffs whose rugged trees dimmed the sun and made the journey seem as though it were in twilight. In such a manner came they to the desolate lake in the gloomy wood. The sight that met the eyes of Beowulf was enough to chill the blood of any man. On the shore among the tangled roots of the trees crawled hideous poisonous snakes, while on the surface of the water rolled great sea dragons, whose ugly crests were raised in anger and alarm. From the turbid depths of the water, unholy animals of strange and fearful shapes kept coming to the surface and swimming about with threatening mien. Undaunted by these sickening sights, Beowulf blew a mighty blast upon his terrible war-horn, at the sound of which the noisome animals slunk back to the slimy depths of the dismal pond. Clad in his shirt of iron mail, wearing the hooded helmet that had often protected his head from the savage blows of his enemies, and clasping in his hand the handle of his great knife, Hrunting, whose hardened blade had carried death to many a strong foeman, Beowulf fronted the awful lake. Thus armed and protected, he plunged into the thickened oily waters, which closed quickly over him, leaving but a few great bubbles to show where he had disappeared. Into the depths of the dark abyss he swam until it seemed as though he were plunging straight into the jaws of death.