"Do your hawks ever miss?" asked Ned.
"Often," said Lars. "Or else there were soon no more herons. All of these long-billed fowl will fight, too. I have seen an old heron kill a falcon, spiking him."
"I've read about it," thought Ned, "and I'm glad I've seen it done. It's great!"
"Now, houseward," said Lars, picking up the heron. "Didst thou ever slay a wild boar?"
"I never did," confessed Ned.
"Then I am ahead of thee," exulted Lars. "It was but a week ago that my two hounds and I brought a fine one to bay in the gorge of the north mountain thou seest yonder. My father would have held me back, had he been there, but I went in alone. When the boar charged out, my spear went through his heart and the hounds pulled him down. Angry was Vebba, but he bade the carles cut me out the tusks to keep for a prize."
"There are wolves and bears in the forest mountains?" inquired Ned.
"That there are, and many," replied Lars, "but who would go taking them in the summer-time, when their fur is short and thin? No man careth for a bear-skin or a wolf-skin, save in winter, when the fur is full upon them. If thou art here next winter, I will show thee sport. Ye people of the lower fiords and the towns have small enjoyment, I think, save in going to sea. This raid on Britain is to be my first long voyage. My father saith that thou art to sail with us."
"I wouldn't miss it for anything," said Ned. "Canst thou throw a spear?"
"I will show thee soon," said Lars. "But I will not throw before the men lest they say I am but young. How art thou with a sword?"