So Grettir took to minding the horses, and went on until Yule-tide was past, when very cold weather set in, with snow, so that grazing was difficult.  He was very badly provided with clothes and little hardened to the weather.  He began to feel it very cold, and Keingala always chose the windiest places whatever the weather was.  She never came to the meadow early enough to get home before nightfall.  Grettir then thought he would play a trick upon Keingala to pay her out for her wanderings.  One morning early he came to the stables, opened the door and found Keingala standing in front of the manger.  She had taken the whole of the fodder which had been given to all the horses for herself.  Grettir jumped upon her back, with a sharp knife in his hand which he drew across her shoulder and along her back on both sides.  The horse was fat and fresh; she shied back very frightened and kicked out till her hoofs rattled against the walls.  Grettir fell off, but picked himself up and tried to mount her again.  There was a sharp struggle, which ended in his shaving all the skin on her back down to her flank.  Then he drove the horses out to the meadow.  Keingala would not take a bite except off her back, and soon after noon she bolted off to the stables.  Grettir locked the door and went home.  Asmund asked him where the horses were; he said he had looked after them as usual.  Asmund said there must be a storm close at hand if the horses would not stay out in such weather as there was then.

Grettir said:  “Many seem wise who are lacking in wit.”

The night passed and there was no storm.  Grettir drove out the horses, but Keingala could not endure the pasture.  Asmund thought it very strange that no change came in the weather.  On the third morning he went himself to the horses and on seeing Keingala he said:  “Ill indeed have the horses fared in this beautiful weather!  Thy back will not deceive me, my Bleikala.”

“The likely may happen—­also the unlikely,” said Grettir.

Asmund stroked the back of the horse and all her coat came off on his hand.  He could not understand how she had got into that state and thought Grettir must have done it.  Grettir grinned and said nothing.  Asmund went home and became very abusive.  He heard his wife say:  “My son’s watching of the horses must have prospered well.”

Then he spoke a verse: 

     “He has cheated me sorely, and Keingala shorn. 
     ’Tis the pride of a woman that urges her tongue. 
     Artful he holds my commands in derision. 
     Consider my verses, oh wife of my heart.”

“I do not know,” she said, “which seems to me the more perverse, for you to make him work, or for him always to get out of it in the same way.”

“Now there shall be an end to it,” said Asmund.  “He must have something worse than merely making good the damage.”

“Let neither speak of it to the other,” said Grettir, and so it remained.