By E. M. Wilmot-Buxton Most precious in the eyes of Thor was his magic hammer, Miölnir, of which even the mighty Frost Giants stood in dread. Always he laid it by his side when he went to rest, and always it was the first thing for which his hand was outstretched when he awoke. Judge then of his horror and dismay when, on opening his eyes one morning, the hammer was nowhere to be seen. Starting up with a roar of rage, Thor commenced to search everywhere for the missing weapon. Up and down his wonderful palace, built of the thunder clouds, he tramped, with a noise that shook the whole city of Asgard. But the hammer was not to be found. Then he called upon golden-haired Sif, his wife, and bade her help in the search; and still the hammer was nowhere to be seen. It was clear that someone must have stolen it, and, when he realized this, Thor’s wrath broke all bounds. His bristling red hair and beard stood up on end, and from them flew a whole volley of fiery sparks. Presently, as the angry Asa was shaking the palace with his thunderous voice, Red Loki came along to inquire into the trouble. He was not likely to sympathize with Thor, but, always brimful of curiosity, he loved to have a part in everything that happened. “What’s the matter, Asa Thor?” said he; and Thor replied, lowering his voice as he spoke, for he did not want his loss to be too widely known: “Now listen to what I tell thee, Loki—’tis a thing which is known neither on earth below nor in heaven above. My hammer’s gone.” This news was most interesting to Loki, who had long owed Thor a grudge, which he was afraid to pay openly. “Ho, ho!” said he. “Then shall we soon have the giants turning us out of Asgard, brother Thor.” “Not if you use your wits as you know how,” growled Thor, still in a very bad temper. “Come, you call yourself a clever fellow. Find out for me who has robbed me of my thunderbolt, my hammer, my Miölnir.” Then Loki gave a grin and a wink, and promised to do what he could—not because he cared for Thor, but because he loved to be of importance, and was, moreover, really frightened as to what might happen to Asgard if the magic hammer was not at hand. It was not long before he noticed that an extraordinary kind of tempest was raging in the regions below—not an orderly kind of tempest, with first some thunder, and then some rain, and then a gust of wind or two, such as Thor was wont to arrange, but a mixture of hail and wind and thunder and lightning and rain and snow, all raging together in a tremendous muddle, so that the earth folk thought the end of the world was come. This gave Loki a hint, and he began to peer about between the clouds, until at length he saw that the trouble was coming from a certain hill which stood in the center of Giantland.