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Tear her from the saddle! She has defied us! She deserves no mercy." With a tremendous yell the boys rushed forward, brandishing their swords above their heads, and pulled Gunbjor from the saddle.
"And, Gunbjor," the Skull-Splitter heard the little girl say, "you don't really believe that there are trolds and fairies in the mountains, do you?" "Them as are wiser than I am have believed that," was Gunbjor's answer; "but we don't hear so much about the trolds nowadays as they did when my granny was young. Then they took young girls into the mountain and "
"Is this, perchance, the Princess Kunigunde, the heir to the throne of my good friend, King Bjorn the Victorious?" he asked, with a magnificent air, seizing the trembling little girl by the wrist. "Nay," Gunbjor answered, as soon as she could find her voice, "this is the Deacon's Maggie, as is going to the saeter with me to spend Sunday."
"She cannot proceed on her way," said the chieftain, decisively, "she is my prisoner." Gunbjor, who had been frightened out of her wits by the small red- and blue-cloaked men, swarming among the stones, taking them to be trolds or fairies, now gradually recovered her senses.
"The Princess Kunigunde is my prisoner until it please her noble father to ransom her for ten pounds of silver," repeated Wolf-in-the-Temple, putting his arm about little Maggie's waist and trying to lift her from the saddle. "You keep yer hands off the child, or I'll give you ten pounds of thrashing," cried Gunbjor, angrily.
Thore the Hound got a thump in his head from Gunbjor's stalwart elbows, and Skull-Splitter, who had more courage than discretion, was pitched into the water with no more ceremony than if he had been a superfluous kitten. The fact was I cannot disguise it within five minutes the whole valiant band of the Sons of the Vikings were routed by that terrible switch, wielded by the intrepid Gunbjor.
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