uncooked, and their supper seemed no nearer ready than it was the night
before. As they were about yielding to despair, they heard a noise
overhead; and, looking up, they saw a huge gray eagle sitting on the
dead branch of an oak.

"Ha, ha!" cried the bird. "You are pretty fellows indeed! To sit
hungry by the fire a night and a day, rather than eat raw flesh,
becomes you well. Do but give me my share of it as it is, and I
warrant you the rest shall boil, and you shall have a fat supper."

"Agreed," answered Loki eagerly. "Come down and get your share."

The eagle waited for no second asking. Down he swooped right over the
blazing fire, and snatched not only the eagle's share, but also what
the Lybians call the lion's share; that is, he grasped in his strong
talons the kettle, with all the meat in it, and, flapping his huge
wings, slowly rose into the air, carrying his booty with him. The
three Asas were astonished. Loki was filled with anger. He seized a
long pole, upon the end of which a sharp hook was fixed, and struck at
the treacherous bird. The hook stuck fast in the eagle's back, and
Loki could not loose his hold of the other end of the pole. The great
bird soared high above the tree-tops, and over the hills, and carried
the astonished mischief-maker with him.

But it was no eagle. It was no bird that had thus outwitted the hungry
Asas: it was the giant Old Winter, clothed in his eagle plumage. Over
the lonely woods, and the snow-crowned mountains, and the frozen sea,
he flew, dragging the helpless Loki through tree-tops, and over jagged
rocks, scratching and bruising his body, and almost tearing his arms
from his shoulders. At last he alighted on the craggy top of an