“It is mine! It is mine! Let me have it! Give it to me! I will have it! Out of the way! It shall be mine!” screamed and quarreled the nine men as they pushed and crowded, each one determined to catch the whetstone as it came down to earth.
At last it fell. Then a fiercer battle followed. The angry men fell upon each other. They dragged and pulled and threw each other to the ground. They pounded each other; they struck at each other with their scythes. On and on they fought. Hour after hour the battle waged; till at last the Sun-god, in sheer dismay at so unloving a sight, hid his face behind the hills, and the nine men lay dead upon the fields.
It was an hour later when Odin reached the castle of Bauge.
“Can you give me shelter for the night?” he asked, as the giant appeared at the door of his castle.
“Yes, I can give you shelter; but you must look elsewhere for your breakfast. A strange thing has happened. My nine slaves, while at work in the field, have fallen in battle upon each other, and have killed each other. Not one of them is left alive to serve me.”
“They must have been idle, quarrelsome fellows,” answered Odin.
“They were, indeed,” answered Bauge; “but how shall I get my work done without them?”
“I will do the work for you,” answered Odin.
“You! There is but one of you, even if you were willing to try,” answered Bauge with but little interest.
“But I can do the work of any nine workmen that ever served you.”