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One boat was there already, and Errington recognized
it with delight. It was that in which he had seen the mysterious maiden
disappear. High and dry on the sand, out of reach of the tides, was a
neat sailing-vessel; its name was painted round the stern--_The
Valkyrie_.
As the two friends ran their boat on shore, and fastened it to the
furthest ring of the convenient pier, they caught the distant sound of
the plaintiff "coo-cooing" of turtle doves.
"You've done it this time, old boy," said Lorimer, speaking in a
whisper, though he knew not why. "This is the old _bonde's_ own private
landing-place evidently, and here's a footpath leading somewhere. Shall
we follow it?"
Philip emphatically assented, and, treading softly, like the trespassers
they felt themselves to be, they climbed the ascending narrow way that
guided them up from the seashore, round through a close thicket of
pines, where their footsteps fell noiselessly on a thick carpet of
velvety green moss, dotted prettily here and there with the red gleam of
ripening wild strawberries.


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