And as Thor turned and hastened off on his errand, Sigurd looked after him and sighed, and wished he too were going that way.
But time forbade that he should linger long thus, and once more he turned his face resolutely towards Jockjen and went on alone.
Although the forest stretched some leagues farther, the trees were no longer dense or the path difficult. In parts large clearings had been made, and felled timber here and there betokened the busy hand of the woodman. Sigurd met more than one of these, who accosted him. He would not, however, tarry with any of them, but pressed eagerly forward, so that they would turn and look after this noble knight and wonder who he was, and whither he hasted.
One of these simple folk with whom he waited a few minutes to partake of a hasty meal said, at parting—
“Beware, my lord, of the robbers who haunt the skirts of the forest. They come suddenly upon the unwary traveller, and have no pity.”
Sigurd smiled.
“I have passed the four-footed wolves,” he said; “I fear not the two-footed.”
“Nay, but,” said the peasant, “they are not to be despised. Ever since Sigurd was banished many of his soldiers have deserted the king, and now live the robber’s life in these woods. Stay here, my lord, till a band of us will be going to Jockjen together.”
But Sigurd smiled scornfully, and, thanking the man, started forward, fearing nothing save arriving too late at Niflheim.
Yet the woodman’s warning was not lost upon him, for he walked with his drawn sword in his hand, keeping both his eyes and ears open as he went.