The gods assured him that he would easily break a limber silken cord, since he had already burst asunder iron fetters of the most solid construction; but if you should not succeed in breaking it, they added, you will show that you are too weak to cause the gods any fear, and we will not hesitate to set you at liberty without delay. I fear much, replied the wolf, that if you once bind me so fast that I shall be unable to free myself by my own efforts, you will be in no haste to loose me. Loath am I therefore to have this cord wound around me, but in order that you may not doubt my courage, I will consent, provided one of you put his hand into my mouth, as a pledge that you intend me no deceit. The gods looked wistfully at one another, and thought the conditions severe, finding that they had only the choice of two evils, and no one would sacrifice his hand, until Tyr, as has formerly been related, stepped forward and intrepidly put his hand between the monster’s jaws. Thereupon the gods having tied up the wolf, he violently stretched himself as he had formerly done, and used all his might to disengage himself, but the more efforts he made the tighter became the cord. Then all the gods burst out in laughter at the sight, excepting Tyr, who lost his hand. When the gods saw that the wolf was effectually bound, they took the chain called Gelgja, which was attached to the cord, and drew it through the middle of a large rock called Gjol, which they sank deep into the earth; afterwards, to make it still more secure, they fastened the end of the cord to another massive stone called Thvite, which they sank still deeper. The wolf made in vain the most violent efforts to break loose, and, opening his tremendous jaws, and turning in every possible direction, endeavored to bite the gods. They, seeing this, thrust a sword into his mouth within his outstretched jaws, so that the hilt stood in his lower jaw and the point in the roof of the mouth; and this is called his palate-spar (_gómsparri_). He howls horribly, and the foam flows continually from his month in such abundance that it forms the river called Von; from which the wolf is also sometimes called Vonargander. There he will remain until Ragnarok, the Twilight of the gods. But why did not the gods slay the wolf, when they have so much evil to fear from him? Because they had so much respect for the sanctity of their peace-steads that they would not stain them with the blood of the wolf, although prophecies foretold to them that he must one day become the bane of Odin. The Fenris-wolf is the earthly fire chained by man, exceedingly ferocious when let loose, as has been terribly illustrated by our recent fires in Chicago and her sister city Boston; as a devouring wolf it attacks and licks up the dwellings of men, as it is said in the lay of Haakon: