“I warn you,” said the servant, “be on your guard.” Vestein had to cross a river. As he was being put across, the boatman said, “Be on your guard. You are running into danger.” As he rode near Thorgrim’s farm, he was seen by a serf who belonged to Thorkel. The serf recognised him, and bade him be on his guard. Just then, out came the serf’s wife, Rannveig, and called to her husband to tell her who that was in a blue cloak, and carrying a spear. The serf went in, and Thorgrim, who was in the hall, inquired who had passed the garth. The woman said it was Vestein, spear in hand, wearing a blue cloak, and seated in a rich saddle. “Pshaw,” said her husband, “the woman can not see aright. It was a fellow named Ogjorl, and he was wearing a borrowed cloak, a borrowed saddle, and carrying a harpoon tipped with horn.” “One or other of you is telling lies,” said Thorgrim. “Run, Rannveig, to Hol, Gisli’s house, and ascertain the truth.” When Vestein arrived at his brother-in-law’s, Gisli received him, and again cautioned him. Vestein opened his saddlebags, and produced some beautiful Oriental stuffs interwoven with gold, and some basins, also inlaid with gold--presents for Gisli, for his sister Auda, and for Thorkel. Next day Gisli went to Thorgrim’s house, carrying one of these beautiful bowls, and offered it to his brother as a present from Vestein; but Thorkel refused to receive it. Gisli sighed. “I see how matters tend,” said he. One night shortly after, a gale driving over the house, tore the thatch off the hall, and the rain poured in through the roof. Everyone woke, and Gisli summoned all to help. The wind had abated, but not the rain; they must go to the stackyard and re-cover the roof as best they might. Vestein volunteered his help, but Gisli refused it. He bade him remain within. Vestein pulled his bed away from the locked compartment where the water leaked in, drew it near the fire in the open hall, and fell asleep on it. Then softly someone entered the hall, stole up to his bedside, and transfixed him to the bed with a spear. Vestein cried out, and was dead. Auda, his sister, woke, and seeing what had taken place, call to a thrall, Witless Thord, to pull out the weapon. Thord was too frightened to do so. He stood quaking with open mouth. Then in came Gisli, and, seeing what had been done, drew out the weapon, and cast it, all bloody, into a chest. Now according to Scandinavian ideas, not only was Gisli solemnly bound to avenge Vestein’s death, as knit to him by oath of brotherhood, but also by the fact of his having withdrawn the weapon from the wound. He at once called his sister to him, and said, “Run to Thorgrim’s house, and bring me word what you see there.” She went, and found the whole house up, and armed. “What news? what news?” shouted Thorgrim. The woman told him that Vestein had been murdered. “An honourable man,” said Thorgrim. “Tell Gisli we will attend the funeral, and let the wake be kept as Vestein deserves.”