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Updated: June 7, 2025
Frithjof, after having bathed his arm in a neighboring brook, had no difficulty in stanching the blood, but the poor Skull-Splitter's wound, in spite of cold water and bandages, kept pouring forth its warm current without sign of abatement. Hakon grew paler and paler, and would have burst into tears, if he had not been a "Son of the Vikings."
In Vienna she worked under Schöner, the interpreter of Venetian and Oriental life, and later in Munich she acquired technical facility under Frithjof Smith. Travels in Italy, France, and Northern Africa furnished many of her themes mostly interiors with figures, in which the entering light is skilfully managed.
I never knew what became of them; now I understand at last." "You know all this!" protested Chet. "How can you know it? How long have you been here?" "I kept track of time for a while," said the voice beside him; "then I forgot it when they took Frithjof away. But it must be about five years. Five years of terror and vain hopes and wild plans for escape! And now it ends after five years!"
"Frithjof Haldgren!" he shouted, and extended a hand toward the gentle giant whose face was aflame as he came to Chet's side. "Frithjof Haldgren, I present you to the world. Only one can be the first; and yours is the honor and glory. This medal is yours alone; I place it where it belongs!"
"Frithjof said that the heat, like the warmth of this whole inner world, comes from the contraction of the rocks in the cold of night. There is great pressure developed ... but he never learned the source of the light in the walls." Talking to still the beating of a heart pulsing with dread, perhaps! Chet had no mind for explanations.
I stowed away on his ship; he did not know. I was only thirteen then.... And now, is Frithjof forgotten back in that world that we left?" Again that note of disappointment; the pilot sensed it even through the tenseness of the moment when both Earth-folk knew that death stood close at their side. He answered quickly: "I came for your brother. I saw your signals.
Chet checked them; he threw one arm clumsily around the figure of Anita Haldgren while he turned to her brother. "The door is open, Frithjof Haldgren," he said, and pointed upward at the black vault of the heavens where a massive ceiling had been. In that immensity of space, framed in the torn outlines of a shattered world, shone a great globe a globe like a giant moon.
And Chet Bullard, within his metal helmet, was repeating in bewilderment: "Five years! Haldgren left five years ago! What does it mean?" Nor did he pause to realize that through his amazement was woven a thread of another hue, tinged faintly with jealousy that demanded of him: "Frithjof! Who is Frithjof who was taken away?"
It was still falling; the imprisoned air was gathering added force to rush upward, screaming as if the very winds were insane with joy at their release, when the great arms of Frithjof Haldgren closed about the others of the group and half carried them, half hurled them, down the slope. The echoing clang of great doors was still with them as the bellowing voice of Haldgren was heard.
Then he stood erect and motionless as he heard the voice of Anita Haldgren. "It's Frithjof!" she cried. "Oh, my dear my dear! It's Frithjof! I heard him! But he can't reach us he can't help us! I will try to reason with these beasts bargain with them make them afraid! I will tell them it is magic."
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