Now All-Father Odin was sorry for Kvasir, but he was still more vexed to think that this wonderful gift of poetry should be in the hands of his enemies, the giants. He began, therefore, to consider how he could get it from them, for though he had drained the draught of wisdom in speech and song, and nothing save a draught of the Magic Mead would bring him that gift. So once more All-Father Odin disguised himself as an aged wanderer, pulled his grey hat well over his brows, threw his storm-hued cloak around him, and journeyed to the Land of Giants. Searching about for the home of Suttung, Odin presently passed by a field where nine ugly serving-men were mowing hay. Now these were the servants of Baugi, the brother of Suttung, as Odin very well knew; so, after watching them for awhile, he called out: "Hi, fellows! Your scythes are blunt. Would you like me to whet them for you?" Glad of an excuse to stop work, the men shouted, "Yes." Then Odin took a whetstone from his belt and whetted the scythes till they were sharp as razors. The servants were much struck with the speed and skill with which this was done, and they all called out together to ask if the whetstone was for sale. Odin replied that he was willing to sell it if he could get a fair price; upon which they all yelled at once that they would pay whatever he asked. "Then let him have it who catches it," said Odin, and with that he threw the whetstone up in the air. And then a tremendous struggle began. Each man fought with his neighbour for the stone and hacked at him with his keen scythe; and within a very few minutes all the nine serving-men lay dead on the field. With a grim smile at the greed and quarrelsome behaviour which had brought them to this end, Odin passed on to the house of the Giant Baugi, and begged for supper and shelter for the night. The giant received him hospitably enough, and was about to sit down to table with him, when word was brought that his nine servants had killed each other and lay dead in the field. Then Baugi began to complain and lament his bad luck, saying: "Here have I never had a better harvest, and yet there is not a man left to gather it in." "Suppose you give _me_ a trial," suggested Odin, "for though I look old I can do the work of nine men, and that you will soon find." "What do you want for your wages?" asked Baugi doubtfully, for he guessed that the stranger was somebody out of the common. "Nothing but a draught of the Magic Mead stored away by your brother Suttung," answered Odin calmly. "'Tis no easy thing you ask of me, good fellow," replied Baugi, "nor is it mine to give. But if you will do my work I will go with you to my brother when all is done, and we will do our best to get the mead." So Odin set to work all that summer-time, and never before had Baugi had such service done. Then, when the first breath of frost touched the autumn leaves, the toiler laid aside his tools and, going to his master, asked for his reward.