And no more word spake the maiden, but turned and gat her gone,
And there by the side of the river the child abode alone: 
But Sigmund stood on his feet, and across the river he went. 
For he knew how the child was Siggeir’s, and of Signy’s fell intent. 
So he took the lad on his shoulder, and bade him hold his sword,
And waded back to his dwelling across the rushing ford: 
But the youngling fell a prattling, and asked of this and that,
As above the rattle of waters on Sigmund’s shoulder he sat! 
And Sigmund deemed in his heart that the boy would be bold enough. 
So he fostered him there in the woodland in life full hard and rough
For the space of three months’ wearing; and the lad was deft and

    strong,

Yet his sight was a grief to Sigmund because of his father’s wrong.

On a morn to the son of King Siggeir Sigmund the Volsung said: 
“I go to the hunting of deer, bide thou and bake our bread
Against I bring the venison.” 
So forth he fared on his way,
And came again with the quarry about the noon of day;
Quoth he:  “Is the morn’s work done?” But the boy said nought for a
space,
And all white he was and quaking as he looked on Sigmund’s face.

“Tell me, O Son of the Goth-king,” quoth Sigmund, “how thou hast fared? 
Forsooth, is the baking of bread so mighty a thing to be dared?”

Quoth the lad:  “I went to the meal-sack, and therein was something
quick,
And it moved, and I feared for the serpent, like a winter ashen stick
That I saw on the stone last even:  so I durst not deal with the thing.”

Loud Sigmund laughed, and answered:  “I have heard of that son of a
king,
Who might not be scared from his bread for all the worms of the land.” 
And therewith he went to the meal-sack and thrust therein his hand,
And drew forth an ash-grey adder, and a deadly worm it was: 
Then he went to the door of the cave and set it down in the grass,
While the King’s son quaked and quivered:  then he drew forth his
sword from the sheath,
And said: 
“Now fearest thou this, that men call the serpent of death?”

Then said the son of King Siggeir:  “I am young as yet for the war,
Yet e’en such a blade shall I carry ere many a month be o’er.”

Then abroad went the King in the wind, and leaned on his naked sword
And stood there many an hour, and mused on Signy’s word. 
But at last when the moon was arisen, and the undark night begun,
He sheathed the sword and cried:  “Come forth, King Siggeir’s son,
Thou shalt wend from out of the wild-wood and no more will I foster

    thee.”