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"You are sure you will not sail away?"
Errington balanced himself lightly on the ladder and smiled.
"I am sure, Sigurd! I have no wish to sail away. Are you all right
there?"
He spoke cheerily, feeling in his own mind that it was scarcely safe for
a madman to be quite alone in a cockle-shell of a boat on a deep Fjord,
the shores of which were indented with dangerous rocks as sharp as the
bristling teeth of fabled sea-monsters, but Sigurd answered him almost
contemptuously.
"All right!" he echoed. "That is what the English say always. All right!
As if it were ever wrong with me, and the sea! We know each other,--we
do each other no harm. _You_ may die on the sea, but _I_ shall not! No,
there is another way to Valhalla!"
"Oh, I dare say there are no end of ways," said Errington
good-temperedly, still poising himself on the ladder, and holding on to
the side of his yacht, as he watched his late visitor take the oars and
move off. "Good-bye, Sigurd! Take care of yourself! Hope I shall see you
again soon.


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