"Here," said Skrymir, "let me carry your food. It will not weigh me down."
So saying, he thrust Thor's wallet into his own and started off through the forest with such tremendous strides that they could hardly keep in sight of him.
All day long he led them at this pace amid the endless woods; and Roska for one was more than glad, despite her brother's aid, when dusk brought him to a halt beside an ancient oak.
"We have loitered along slowly enough," he said, "yet I suppose it is time to sleep. I am not hungry; you can take the wallet and get your own meal. If you need a roof over your heads, my glove is there."
He stretched himself out and presently was snoring so that one could have heard him a mile away.
Dark and silent, Thor finally took the leather bag, to get out their food. His feelings were not smoothed when he found he could not untie the knots. In growing anger he worked away at the stubborn thongs, but he could make no impression on the hard knots. Then, his patience exhausted, he tried to break the fastenings. Still they defied his efforts.
Enraged at being thus trifled with, he grasped Miolnir, stepped forward, and dashed it at the giant's head.
Skrymir stirred himself slightly.
"What was that—a leaf?" he asked sleepily. "Have you little ones supped yet? Have you gone to sleep?"