One day, when the royal couple were seated in a sleigh and skimming along a frozen stream, Frithiof sped on his skates before them, performing graceful evolutions, and cutting Ingeborg's name deep in the ice. All at once the ice broke and the sleigh disappeared; but Frithiof, springing forward, caught the horse by the bridle, and by main force dragged them all out of their perilous position. When spring came, Sigurd Ring invited Frithiof to accompany him on a hunting expedition. The king became separated from all the rest of his suite, and saying that he was too weary to continue the chase, he lay down to rest upon the cloak which Frithiof spread out for him, resting his head upon his young guest's knee. "Then threw Frithiof down his mantle, and upon the greensward spread, And the ancient king so trustful laid on Frithiof's knee his head; Slept, as calmly as the hero sleepeth after war's alarms On his shield, calm as an infant sleepeth in its mother's arms." TEGNÉR, _Frithiof Saga_ (Longfellow's tr.). [Sidenote: Frithiof's loyalty.]While the aged king was thus reposing, the birds and beasts of the forest softly drew near, bidding Frithiof take advantage of his host's unconsciousness to slay him and recover the bride of whom he had been unfairly deprived. But although Frithiof understood the language of birds and beasts, and his hot young heart clamored for his beloved, he utterly refused to listen to them; and, fearing lest he should involuntarily harm his trusting host, he impulsively flung his sword far from him into a neighboring thicket. A few moments later Sigurd Ring awoke from his feigned sleep, and after telling Frithiof that he had recognized him from the first, had tested him in many ways, and had always found his honor fully equal to his vaunted courage, he bade him be patient a little longer, for his end was very near, and said that he would die happy if he could leave Ingeborg, his infant heir, and his kingdom in such good hands. Then, taking the astonished Frithiof's arm, Sigurd Ring returned home, where, feeling death draw near, he dedicated himself anew to Odin by carving the Geirs-odd, or sacrificial runes, deeply in his aged chest. "Bravely he slashes Odin's red letters, Blood-runes of heroes, on arm and on breast. Brightly the splashes Of life's flowing fetters Drip from the silver of hair-covered chest." TEGNÉR, _Frithiof Saga_ (Spalding's tr.). When this ceremony was finished, Sigurd Ring laid Ingeborg's hand in Frithiof's, and, once more commending her to the young hero's loving care, closed his eyes and breathed his last.