This was more than Thorolf could stand. Rushing to a smithy he brought back the largest hammer in it, swung it twice round his head, then brought it down with a crash on one of the many lumps that studded the Star; and this time he broke it clean off. Again and again he struck, furiously angry, breaking off lump after lump, and when the laughter became cheers he flung down the mallet and was well pleased when the Jarl said, "By the Hammer of Thor! Thorolf the Strong is well named!" But Ulf was still more pleased; and when all had gone away he stored in a safe place all the bits of the Star which had been broken off--to tell the truth, when Thorolf ended little was left of it but bits. From that time on, Ulf spent all his spare time in the smithy. It was not regularly in use at that period, and few cared to ask what he was doing. Now and then a boy looked in, but all he saw was that Ulf was forging the bits of iron into slender spindles and had a heap already done. Such spindles made good fish-hooks, when bent and pointed, and they were well content when he gave them one or two. Much of his time while sheep-watching he was busy also; and one day Edith Fairhair found he had not forgotten her. She came running to the Jarl to show him a great treasure. Sigurd looked it over curiously. It was the long shank bone of an ox, polished till it was as white as ivory, and carved in quaint patterns. Then on one side two figures were scratched in quite skilfully; one evidently a captive holding out chained hands, the other a girl holding up a knife. On the other side were the same figures, but the chain had been cut in two. Something rattled within the bone, and taking out a pretty stopper the Jarl let fall in his lap five slender, shining rods of steel, so beautifully round and smooth and glistening that he cried, "Well done, Ulf! When the year is ended I think none other will surpass this." And, indeed, in all the village round the vik there was not another such a set of knitting needles. But Ulf the Silent looked fearlessly up at Sigurd and said, "Needles are women's tools. The son of a chief is worth a greater price than that." And Jarl Sigurd as he looked at him could think of nothing but of how in his own young days he had caught a baby falcon, and of the scratchy time he had in taming it. Yet, when he had taught it to love him in its own fierce fashion, not one of his other good things pleased him so well as his hawk. Perhaps here was another hawk as well worth training. As for Edith, she hugged her new gift over and over again; she was as delighted a girl as ever stood on one foot because she was too happy to stand on two, and finally off she rushed to show her treasure to her mother.