Soon, however, he sprang threateningly upwards again.
Preventing him, however, the shepherd swung his sling; whirring flew the sharp stone; it was a sharp hard three-edged flint stone--I had carefully reserved it for some great peril--and alas! alas--woe is me, only too truly did it strike. Without a sound Halfred fell, where he stood, on his back under the ash tree, himself like to a suddenly felled tree.
With a few bounds the shepherd reached the prostrate form, cautiously holding his spear before him, lest the enemy should suddenly spring up again. For it might be that he only artfully feigned to be wounded.
As he drew nearer, however, he saw that it was no deceit, but rather evident truth.
Blood streamed over the fallen man's right cheek, and in the cavity of the right eye stuck the sharp flint stone.
But pity mingled with dread seized upon the shepherd, as he gazed in the fearful mighty face of the man who lay mute at his feet. Never before had he seen so splendid a face; at once so noble, and so sad.
And superstitious fear overcame him, if it might not be the chief of the heathen gods, Odhin, the one-eyed, who in the semblance of this wanderer with the white beard had appeared to him.
But soon he felt yet deeper sympathy and compassion, for the wounded man in a weak voice began:--
"Whosoever thou mayest be, who hast cast this stone, receive the thanks, O shepherd boy, of a world and woe weary man. Thou hast taken from me the light of the second eye also. I need no longer to see men-kind and the heavens. Neither of them have I understood for a long time. And soon shall I pass to where questions are no more asked, and curses no more cursed. I thank thee, whosoever thou mayest be. Thou hast of all living beings--save one--done the best for Halfred Hamundson."
Then with a loud cry I threw my spear on one side, fell upon my knees, embraced the pale bleeding head, and cried:--