So it chanced on a day that Grim had caught a hundred fish, and he bore them to his hut and hung them up outside, but the next morning when he came thereto they were all gone; that he deemed marvellous, and went to the water; and now he caught two hundred fish, went home and stored them up; and all went the same way, for they were all gone in the morning; and now he thought it hard to trace all to one spring.  But the third day he caught three hundred fish, brought them home and watched over them from his shed, looking out through a hole in the door to see if aught might come anigh.  Thus wore the night somewhat, and when the third part of the night was gone by, he heard one going along outside with heavy footfalls; and when he was ware thereof, he took an axe that he had, the sharpest of weapons, for he was fain to know what this one was about; and he saw that the new-comer had a great basket on his back.  Now he set it down, and peered about, and saw no man abroad; he gropes about to the fishes, and deems he has got a good handful, and into the basket he scoops them one and all; then is the basket full, but the fishes were so big that Grim thought that no horse might bear more.  Now he takes them up and puts himself under the load, and at that very point of time, when he was about to stand upright, Grim ran out, and with both hands smote at his neck, so that the axe sank into the shoulder; thereat he turned off sharp, and set off running with the basket south over the mountain.

Grim turned off after him, and was fain to know if he had got enough.  They went south all the way to Balljokul, and there this man went into a cave; a bright fire burnt in the cave, and thereby sat a woman, great of growth, but shapely withal.  Grim heard how she welcomed her father, and called him Hallmund.  He cast down his burden heavily, and groaned aloud; she asked him why he was all covered with blood, but he answered and sang—­

  “Now know I aright,
  That in man’s might,
  And in man’s bliss,
  No trust there is;
  On the day of bale
  Shall all things fail;
  Courage is o’er,
  Luck mocks no more.”

She asked him closely of their dealings, but he told her all even as it had befallen.

“Now shall thou hearken,” said he, “for I shall tell of my deeds and sing a song thereon, and thou shall cut it on a staff as I give it out.”

So she did, and he sung Hallmund’s song withal, wherein is this—­

  “When I drew adown
  The bridle brown
  Grettir’s hard hold,
  Men deemed me bold;
  Long while looked then
  The brave of men
  In his hollow hands,
  The harm of lands.

  “Then came the day
  Of Thorir’s play
  On Ernelakeheath,
  When we from death
  Our life must gain;
  Alone we twain
  With eighty men
  Must needs play then.

  “Good craft enow
  Did Grettir show
  On many a shield
  In that same field;
  Natheless I hear
  That my marks were
  The deepest still;
  The worst to fill.