And finally Canute himself stood under the lintel, storming through
his laughter.
"Blockhead, that you cannot keep your thoughts on what you are doing! One
might expect as good a game from the tumbler's dog. Is it the drink that you
have got into your head, or the war matters that you cannot get out? You
deserve--"
"To lose the honor of playing with the King," the Jotun broke in, making a
long step forward. "Be so good as to allow me to take his place, lord. I have
some words for your ear which are worth a hearing."
"Rothgar!" the King exclaimed with great cordiality, and stepped from the
doorway to meet him. "Willingly do I make the change, for I have been wishing
to speak with you this last hour. I have thought of a fine plan for
to-morrow's sport." Laying his arm boy-fashion across his foster-brother's
shoulders, he swung him around toward the river. "But we will not go in there
to do our talking. We will walk along the shore. To-night I feel as though I
could walk to the rainbow-bridge." He shook back his headful of long hair and
drew a deep breath, like a man from whom a burden has been lifted.
As they strolled beside the moonlit water, the son of Lodbrok listened in
secret amazement to the string of plans that unfolded itself,--hunts and
horse-races, swimming matches and fishing trips.
"But where will you get the fishing tackle, lord? And the hawks and the hounds
for all this?" he ventured presently.
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