Bauge began to feel uncomfortable. “He will not allow either you or me to so much as look upon that wine. You cannot have it.”
“Bauge,” said Odin, growing very tall and godlike, his wonderful eyes flashing with a light like fire, “you promised to do all you could to help me. Come and do as I bid you.”
Bauge stared. His first thought was to kill the workman on the spot: but there was a something about him, he hardly knew what, that made him, instead, rise and follow Odin to the brother’s castle.
“Tell me which cellar holds the wine,” said Odin when they had reached the brother’s mountain.
“This one,” answered Bauge.
“Now take this augur. Make a hole with it through the solid wall.”
Bauge obeyed like one in a dream. It was a magic augur. How it worked! How the powdered stone flew in a cloud about his face!
“This is a very—” Bauge stopped. What had become of his workman? Not a soul was in sight. Odin had disappeared. And to this day the giant never knew what became of him, nor does his brother know who stole his wine from the cellar.
The stupid Bauge stood staring, now at the augur, now at the hole in the wall. He saw a little worm climb up the wall and disappear through the hole. That is all he ever saw or ever knew.
The little worm laughed to itself as it crept in out of sight. “You are very stupid, Bauge, not to know me.”