This verse was repeated over and over again inaudibly. Gradually, however, his voice became a little louder, and a little louder still, until finally poor Hal hallooed it vociferously forth so sonorously that it drowned the very thunder. He had repeated it just seventy-seven times, when suddenly a monstrous head was thrust in at the door, and demanded, in a voice that sounded like the maelstrom, "What do you want with Odin?" "Oh, nothing—nothing in the world, I thank you, sir," politely responded poor Hal, shaking from head to foot. Here the head was followed by the shoulders, arms, body and legs of a giant at least forty feet high. Of course he came in on all fours, and approached in close proximity to Black Hal. Hal involuntarily retreated, as far as he could, reciting to himself the only prayer he remembered, "Now I lay me down to sleep," etc.
The giant did not appear desirous of pursuing Hal, being afraid—so Hal said—that he would draw his knife on him. But be the cause what it might, he seated himself at the head of the nine-pin alley, and shouted, "Stand up!" As he did so, the nine-pins at the other end arose and took their places.
"Now, sir," said he, turning again to Hal, "I'll bet you an ounce of your blood I can beat you rolling."
Hal trembled again, but meekly replied, "Please, sir, we don't bet blood nowadays—we bet money."
"Blood's my money," roared forth the giant. "Fee, fo, fum!" Hal tried in vain to hoist the window.
"Will you bet?"
"Yes, sir," said Hal; and he thought as it was only an ounce, he could spare that without much danger, and it might appease the monster's appetite.
"Roll first!" said the giant.
"Yes, sir," replied Hal, as he seized what he supposed to be the largest and his favorite ball.
"What are you doing with Mimir's head?" roared forth the monster.