` It was Weland 's Ford then , dear . A road led down to it from the Beacon on the top of the hill -- a shocking bad road it was -- and all the hillside was thick , thick oak-forest , with deer in it . There was no trace of Weland , but presently I saw a fat old farmer riding down from the Beacon under the greenwood tree . His horse had cast a shoe in the clay , and when he came to the Ford he dismounted , took a penny out of his purse , laid it on a stone , tied the old horse to an oak , and called out : `` Smith , Smith , here is work for you ! '' Then he sat down and went to sleep . You can imagine how I felt when I saw a white-bearded , bent old blacksmith in a leather apron creep out from behind the oak and begin to shoe the horse . It was Weland himself . I was so astonished that I jumped out and said : `` What on Human Earth are you doing here , Weland ? '' ' ` Poor Weland ! ' sighed Una . ` He pushed the long hair back from his forehead -LRB- he did n't recognize me at first -RRB- . Then he said : '' You ought to know . You foretold it , Old Thing . I 'm shoeing horses for hire . I 'm not even Weland now , '' he said . `` They call me Wayland-Smith . '' ' ` Poor chap ! ' said Dan . ` What did you say ? ' ` What could I say ?
He looked up , with the horse 's foot on his lap , and he XXXXX , smiling , `` I remember the time when I would n't have accepted this old bag of bones as a sacrifice , and now I 'm glad enough to shoe him for a penny . '' '
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