Rather than guesting,
Though thick night be upon thee.
LAY OF SIGRDRIFA.
Though the blast struck quartering in the faces of the skaters, the brunt of its force was broken by the king's body; so that the others, dragged on by his bull-strength and Olvir's wiry vigor, held to a pace which lost none of the distance they had gained on the wolf-pack before the storm burst.
"Thor!" shouted Liutrad, hoarse but joyful. "We cheat both werwolves and storm-fiends! We shall soon be sitting by the glowing hearth!"
"God grant it!" replied Karl. "Yet you crow too soon, lad. There's a turn ahead will bring us into the teeth of the wind. Even now we should be swerving."
"Saint Michael!" gasped Gerold. "We can never drive against this blast!"
"No, by Thor!" called back Olvir. "Even now we can scarce hold our own--and behind comes the horde! We are doomed if we linger on the ice. To the bank, lord king! There's no other way!"
"A hard truth, Dane hawk! Yet it is better to freeze than to be torn by ravening beasts. Heu! I know of a hut among the oaks. To the forest! The pack runs blind, with neither sight nor scent. They 'll follow the river and pass us by."
"To the bank!" shouted Liutrad and Gerold; and the line of skaters swung around to glide inshore. Blinded by the whirling flakes, they drove upon the low bank before aware of its nearness. Staggering and half falling, they stumbled across the rough ice-rim, and flung themselves down upon the bank to tear at their skate-thongs.