and his two companions, and bade them supply themselves,—­he meanwhile composing himself to sleep, snoring so loudly that the forest trembled.  Thor could not undo the giant’s wallet, and in his wrath he smote the somnolent lubber with his mallet, a crushing blow.  Skrymir simply awoke, and inquired whether a leaf had not fallen upon his head from the oak-tree under which he was lying.  Conceive the chagrin and shame of Thor at this question!  A second time Thor let fly at the giant with his mallet.  This time it sank into his skull up to the handle, but with no more satisfactory result.  The giant merely inquired whether an acorn had not dropped on his head, and wanted to know how Thor found himself, whether he slept well or not; to which queries Thor muttered an answer, and went away, determined to make a third and final effort with his mallet, which had never failed him until then.  About daybreak, as Skrymir was taking his last snooze, Thor uplifted his hammer, clutching it so fiercely that his knuckles became white.  Down it came, with terrific emphasis, crushing through Skrymir’s cheek, up to the handle.  Skrymir sat up and inquired if there were not birds perched on the tree under which he had been lodging; he thought he felt something dropping on his head,—­some moss belike.  Alas for Thor and his weapon!  For once he found himself worsted, and his mightiest efforts regarded as mere flea-bites; for Skrymir’s talk about leaves and acorns and moss was merely a sly piece of humor, levelled at poor crestfallen Thor, as he afterwards acknowledged.  After this incident, Thor and his two companions, the peasant’s children, Thjalfi and Roeska, and Skrymir went their ways, and came to the high-gated city of Utgard, which stood in the middle of a plain, and was so lofty that Thor had to throw back his head to see its pinnacles and domes.  Now Thor was by no means small; indeed, in Asgard, the city of the AEsir, he was regarded as a giant; but here in Utgard Skrymir told him he had better not give himself any airs, for the people of that city would not tolerate any assumption on the part of such a mannikin!

Utgard-Loki, the king of the city, received Thor with the utmost disdain, calling him a stripling, and asked him contemptuously what he could do.  Thor professed himself ready for a drinking-match.  Whereupon Utgard-Loki bade his cup-bearer bring the large horn which his courtiers had to drain at a single draught, when they had broken any of the established rules and regulations of his palace.  Thor was thirsty, and thought he could manage the horn without difficulty, although it was somewhat of the largest.  After a long, deep, and breathless pull which he designed as a finisher, he set the horn down and found that the liquor was not perceptibly lowered.  Again he tried, with no better result; and a third time, full of wrath and chagrin, he guzzled at its contents, but found that the liquor still foamed near to the brim.  He gave back the horn in disgust.