Every eye in Asgard was strained; every giant in Jotunheim stood breathless upon his mountain. The great round faces of the giants grew tense; the wrinkled aged faces of the gods grew pale. It was a terrible race. It was a race for life and health and everlasting youth. "Build fires upon the walls! Heap up the brush! Stand ready with the tapers!" cried Odin, who foresaw the end. The brush is heaped. Each god stands ready, his haggard face growing whiter and thinner with fright and dread and eagerness. Already the rush of Loke's wings are heard. The eagle follows close. Nearer and nearer they come, closer and closer is the race. One moment more!--One second!--The frightened eyes of Loke can be seen, so near he is. Thor sends his blinding fire once more across the eagle's track. It reels, for an instant it falls back. In that one second, with one last mighty stroke, Loke clears the walls and falls, exhausted, breathless, almost dead upon the golden pavement of the city. "The fires! the fires! the fires!" cried Odin. An instant, and there rises from the walls great sheets of blaze. The brush crackles and snaps and sends up great tongues of fire. The eagle, angry, desperate, and blinded by the lightning sweeps on, straight towards them. Like a foolish moth, he bears down upon the city, into the very heart of the blaze. A sudden crackling, a cry of pain, a cloud of black, black smoke, and the great grey eagle falls a helpless mass upon the pavement beside the breathless Loke. The haggard faces flush with hope and joy. The apples are safe. Idun has come back, the apples again are theirs, and life and joy and eternal youth once more are with them. Now the goddess of music bursts forth again in song; the god of poetry pours forth his melody; a feast is spread, and the gods and goddesses once more eat of the wonderful apples of life. The color comes back into their faded cheeks; light again flashes from their eyes. Youth and health and strength are theirs again. Peace reigns once more in Asgard. XV. LOKE'S WOLF. Although the Apples of Life had been brought back, and although Loke appeared for some time very penitent and willing to obey the laws of the kind Odin, the gods had little faith in him. More than that, so much had they suffered, that now they were in constant fear of him. "We never know," plead Freyja and Sif and Idun, all of whom had good reason to fear him, "what mischief he may be planning." And so it came about that Loke was driven forth from Asgard, as indeed he deserved to be. Straight to the home of the giants Loke went--he always had been a giant at heart, the evil creature!--and was much more in harmony with them in their thoughts and acts, than ever he had been with the gods whom he claimed as his people. But now that he was cast out from Asgard, and could no longer share its beauties and its joys, he had but one wish--that was, to be revenged upon the gods, to destroy them, and to ruin their golden city.