There had lain for ages upon ages, hidden away in the great rocky cellar of one of the giant’s castles, a cask of wine, which had been stolen from the gods.

Never before had the gods been able to learn what had become of it; what giant had stolen it, nor in what castle it was hidden.

But now that Odin had become All-wise, nothing could be concealed from him.

“I know at last where the wine lies hidden,” said Odin one day to his son, Thor; “and I shall set forth to find it.”

Thor brought down his hammer with a thud. “Let me go with you,” cried he, springing up. “And let me fell to the earth with one blow of my magic hammer the giant who has stolen, and has kept hidden all these ages our precious wine.”

“No;” answered Odin, “this time I must go alone. The wine is guarded day and night, and it will not be easy to bring it away, even when I have found it. But watch for me, dear son. One day there will come, beating its wings against the shining gates of our city, a great white eagle. Do not harm the eagle. Open the gates to him; for that eagle will be Odin, returning with the stolen wine to our city of Asgard.”

Then Odin put aside his sparkling crown and laid down his sceptre. His wonderful blue mantle, studded with stars and fastened always with a pale crescent moon, he also threw aside, and stepped forth in the garb of a common laborer. “It is in this guise that I shall win my way to the giant’s castle,” said Odin; and in a second he had passed out from the hall and was gone.

It was the giant, Suttung, that had stolen the wine, and it was in his castle that it had lain hidden all these years.

Now, of all the strong castles of all the giants, Suttung’s castle was the strongest. The cellar was cut into the solid rock. Moreover, three sides of the castle rose in solid walls of granite; while the fourth, no less firm and strong, was built of massive blocks bound with hoops and bars and bolts of strongest iron and steel.

Now, Suttung had a brother, Bauge, who was a giant farmer. He kept nine strong slaves, half giants themselves, to do his work for him.

As Odin approached the fields of Bauge’s farm, he saw the nine men hard at work.

“Your scythes are dull,” said he, as he drew near.

“Yes, but we have no whetstone to sharpen them upon,” answered the workmen, the great drops standing out upon their foreheads.

“I will sharpen them on mine,” said Odin, drawing one from his pocket.

“It is a magic whetstone!” cried the men as they saw it work. “Give it to us. We need it more than you. Give it to us. Give it to us.”

“Take it, then,” answered Odin, throwing it high in the air and walking off.

“It is mine! It is mine! Let me have it! Give it to me! I will have it! Out of the way! It shall be mine!” screamed and quarreled the nine men as they pushed and crowded, each one determined to catch the whetstone as it came down to earth.

At last it fell. Then a fiercer battle followed. The angry men fell upon each other. They dragged and pulled and threw each other to the ground. They pounded each other; they struck at each other with their scythes. On and on they fought. Hour after hour the battle waged; till at last the Sun-god, in sheer dismay at so unloving a sight, hid his face behind the hills, and the nine men lay dead upon the fields.

It was an hour later when Odin reached the castle of Bauge.

“Can you give me shelter for the night?” he asked, as the giant appeared at the door of his castle.

“Yes, I can give you shelter; but you must look elsewhere for your breakfast. A strange thing has happened. My nine slaves, while at work in the field, have fallen in battle upon each other, and have killed each other. Not one of them is left alive to serve me.”

“They must have been idle, quarrelsome fellows,” answered Odin.

“They were, indeed,” answered Bauge; “but how shall I get my work done without them?”

“I will do the work for you,” answered Odin.

“You! There is but one of you, even if you were willing to try,” answered Bauge with but little interest.

“But I can do the work of any nine workmen that ever served you.”

The giant laughed. “A remarkable workman. Pray, do you ask the wages of nine men as well?”

“I ask no wages,” answered Odin. “I only ask that, as my pay when the work is done, you shall give me a draught of wine from the cask hidden in your brother’s cellar.”

Bauge stared. “How did you know there is a cask in my brother’s cellar?” he gasped.

“It is enough that I know it,” answered Odin coldly.

Bauge looked at Odin. “He is better than no man,” he thought to himself. “I may as well get what work from him I can, before he finds that no being on earth can enter that cellar or force my brother to give away one drop of that wine.”

“Very well, you may go to work,” he said aloud. “I cannot promise you that we can make our way into my brother’s cellar; but I will do what I can to help you.”

“That is all I ask,” answered Odin. “Now let me sleep, for I am tired; and if I am to do nine men’s work, I must have nine men’s sleep.”

“And must you have nine men’s food?” cried Bauge.

“I think it very likely,” answered Odin with a queer smile. “Now let me sleep.”