My father had me in his arms all this time, standing in the door.
"There would have been sorrow enough had he been lost indeed," my father said.

"He is the last of the old line, and the fathers of those men whom you hear have followed his fathers since the days of Ella.

Come in, and they will thank you also.

Where did you find him ?" Then as he turned and went into the hall the light flashed red on my jerkin suddenly, and he cried, "Here is blood on his clothing!--Is he hurt ?" "No," I said stoutly; "maybe it is the blood of the stoat I slew, or else it has come off the shepherd's sleeves.

He hewed off the wolf's head and hung it on the tree." Then my father understood what my peril had been--even that which he and all the village had feared for me, and his face paled, and he held out his hand to the man, drawing in his breath sharply.
"Woden!" he cried, "what is this, friend?
Are you hurt, yourself?
For the wolf must be slain ere his head can be hefted, as we say." "No hurt to any but the wolf," the man said, smiling a little.