“Nevertheless, you must let me have a draught from your glittering horn,” insisted Odin, “and I will pay you for it.”

“Oho, you will pay me for it, will you?” echoed Mimer, eyeing his visitor keenly.  For now that he was wide awake, his wisdom taught him that this was no ordinary stranger.  “What will you pay for a drink from my well, and why do you wish it so much?”

“I can see with my eyes all that goes on in heaven and upon earth,” said Odin, “but I cannot see into the depths of ocean.  I lack the hidden wisdom of the deep—­the wit that lies at the bottom of your fountain.  My ravens tell me many secrets; but I would know all.  And as for payment, ask what you will, and I will pledge anything in return for the draught of wisdom.”

Then Mimer’s keen glance grew keener.  “You are Odin, of the race of gods,” he cried.  “We giants are centuries older than you, and our wisdom which we have treasured during these ages, when we were the only creatures in all space, is a precious thing.  If I grant you a draught from my well, you will become as one of us, a wise and dangerous enemy.  It is a goodly price, Odin, which I shall demand for a boon so great.”

Now Odin was growing impatient for the sparkling water.  “Ask your price,” he frowned.  “I have promised that I will pay.”

“What say you, then, to leaving one of those far-seeing eyes of yours at the bottom of my well?” asked Mimer, hoping that he would refuse the bargain.  “This is the only payment I will take.”

Odin hesitated.  It was indeed a heavy price, and one that he could ill afford, for he was proud of his noble beauty.  But he glanced at the magic fountain bubbling mysteriously in the shadow, and he knew that he must have the draught.

“Give me the glittering horn,” he answered.  “I pledge you my eye for a draught to the brim.”

Very unwillingly Mimer filled the horn from the fountain of wisdom and handed it to Odin.  “Drink, then,” he said; “drink and grow wise.  This hour is the beginning of trouble between your race and mine.”  And wise Mimer foretold the truth.

Odin thought merely of the wisdom which was to be his.  He seized the horn eagerly, and emptied it without delay.  From that moment he became wiser than anyone else in the world except Mimer himself.

Now he had the price to pay, which was not so pleasant.  When he went away from the grotto, he left at the bottom of the dark pool one of his fiery eyes, which twinkled and winked up through the magic depths like the reflection of a star.  This is how Odin lost his eye, and why from that day he was careful to pull his gray hat low over his face when he wanted to pass unnoticed.  For by this oddity folk could easily recognise the wise lord of Asgard.