But it booted him even less than before.

And so things went on till autumn.  The king’s law was first, and his will was only second.

Then he began to dread what would be the end of it all.  His eyes sparkled so fiercely that none dare come near him.  But at night he would pace up and down, and shriek and bellow at his daughter, and give her all sorts of vile names.

Now one day he came in to Boel with a heavy gold crown full of the most precious stones.  She should be the Queen of Finmark and Spitzbergen, said he, if her husband would do according to his will.

Then she looked him stiffly in the face, and said she would never seduce her husband into breaking the king’s law.

He grew as pale as the wall behind him, and cast the gold crown on the floor, so that there was a perfect shower of precious stones about them.

She must know, said he, that her father and none other was king here.  And now the young officer should find out how it fared with them who sat in his seat.

Then Boel washed her hands of her father altogether, but she advised her husband to depart forthwith.

And on the third day she had packed up all her bridal finery, and departed in the vessel with the young officer.

Then Bardun smote his head against the wall, and that night he laughed, so that it was heard far away, but he wept for his daughter.

And now there arose such a storm that the sea was white for a whole week.  And it was not long before the tidings came that the ship that Boel and her husband had sailed by had gone down, and the splinters lay and floated among the skerries.

Then Bardun took the rudder he had got from the Wind-Gnome, and stuck it into the stern of the largest yacht he had.  He was God himself now, said he, and could always get a fair wind to steer by, and could rule where he would in the wide world.  And southwards he sailed with a rattling breeze, and the billows rolled after him like mounds and hillocks.

Heavier and heavier grew the sea, till it rolled like white mountains as high as the rocky walls of Lofoten.

It couldn’t well be less when he was to rule the whole world, cried he.  And so he set his rudder dead southwards.

He never diminished his sail one bit, and worse and worse grew the storm, and higher and higher rose the sea.

For now he was steering right into the sun.

* * * * *

[1] A small two-oared boat.

* * * * *

THE HULDREFISH

[Illustration:  THE HULDREFISH.]

THE HULDREFISH[1]

It was such an odd trout that Nona hauled in at the end of his fishing-line.  Large and fat, red spotted and shiny, it sprawled and squirmed, with its dirty yellow belly above the water, to wriggle off the hook.  And when he got it into the boat, and took it off the hook, he saw that it had only two small slits where the eyes should have been.