Away dashed the sledge with the speed of the whirlwind, the stout-hearted old king exulting in the motion and heeding not the entreaties of his wife; but swift as they flew, the stranger still outstripped them, circling about in wide curves or cutting figures on the ice. Meanwhile, false Ran, the spouse of the Sea-god, has marked what is passing above. She cleaves a broad fissure in the sea’s silvery roof, and into the up-foaming waves plunge horse and sledge. But swift as the wind flies the stranger thither. Fixing his steel shoes firmly in the ice, he seizes the horse by the mane and with a mighty jerk, pulls it and sledge together back on to the ice. “In sooth,” said the King, “that deed doth merit praise; e’en Frithiof himself could do no better. And now, my Fleet-of-foot, let us back to the palace again.” Chapter XVIII Frithiof’s Temptation Spring is come once more; birds warble in the treetops; freed from their icy bonds, the streams leap gaily downward to the vales below; the roses part their delicate sheaths and blossom red as Frigga’s cheeks. King Ring will now go hunting, and forthwith a joyous stir pervades the court. Bows twang, quivers rattle, fiery coursers paw the ground, the hooded falcon screams for its victim, and scarce can the huntsmen keep in leash the eager hounds. Fair as Frigga, dazzling as the battle-maiden Rota, sits the Queen upon her milk-white steed like a star on a summer cloud. Her hunting dress is of green, embroidered with gold, and blue plumes wave from her velvet cap. Led by the royal pair, the gay train wends its way into the forest, and soon the sport begins. Loud bay the hounds; up mount the hawks into the clear sky; horns sound; the frightened game seeks lair and covert; and the eager huntsmen scatter in pursuit. King Ring has fallen behind; old and feeble, he can no longer follow the lengthening chase, while beside him silent and thoughtful, rides his guest. At last they reached a rocky glen shut in by thick-clustering trees and thickets, and here the King dismounted from his courser, saying: “Full weary am I, stranger; here will I rest me in this pleasant spot.” “Nay, sleep not on the cold hard ground,” replied the other; “I had better lead thee back to thy own halls.” “Sweet slumber comes when least expected; ’tis the way of the gods,” said Ring. “Surely thou dost not grudge thy host an hour of rest!” Without further words, the stranger spread his cloak upon the ground and seated himself on a fallen tree-trunk, while Ring, stretching himself out upon the mantle, laid his head against the other’s knees. His eyes closed and soon he slept, sweetly as an infant cradled in its mother’s arms. As the stranger gazed gloomily down on the face of the King, he heard a rustling in the branches above him to the left, and lifting his eyes he saw a coal-black bird, which began to sing: