know what I mean by "'Ware kids." Keep all this mum,
whatever you do. I wouldn't have any of the fellows hear about it for
the world. I can tell you, I feel as if I deserve a week's holiday
longer than the rest of you. Never you utter the words "Three Bears" in
my hearing, or there'll be a row.

Yours truly, Gus. Cutaway.

CHAPTER FIVE.

SIGURD THE HERO.

Sub-Chapter I.

THE TOWER OF THE NORTH-WEST WIND.

On the rugged shore of the Northern Sea, where the summer sun never
sets, there stood long ago a grim bleak fortress, called the Tower of
the North-West Wind. Before it stretched the sea, which thundered
ceaselessly at its base, like a wolf that gnaws at the root of some
noble oak. On either side of it glittered the blue fiord, dotted with
numberless islets, throwing its long arms far inland. Behind it frowned
a dense forest of pines as far as eye could reach, in which the wind
roared day and night, mingled often with the angry howls of the wolves.

The Tower of the North-West Wind stood there, the solitary work of man
in all that wild landscape. Not a sign of life was to be seen besides.
Not even a fisherman's hut on the shores of the fiord, or a woodman's
shed among the trees. The stranger might easily have taken the rugged
pile itself for a part of the black cliff on which it stood. No road
seemed to lead up to it, no banner floated from its walls, no trumpet
startled the sea-birds that lodged amongst its turrets.

Yet the old castle was not the deserted place it looked, for here dwelt
Sigurd, the mightiest hero of all that land, brother to Ulf, the king.

Men hated Ulf as much as they loved his brother; for Sigurd, with all
his prowess, was just and generous, and lied to no man.

"If Sigurd were but king," said they one to the other, "our land would
be the happiest the sun shines upon. As it is, Ulf makes us wretched.
We had rather be his enemies than his friends."

But though they said this one to another, Sigurd listened to none of it,
and when they urged him to rebel, he sternly bade them hold their peace.
And he went forth and fought the battles of the king, his brother, and
they followed him, wishing only the battle-cry were "Sigurd!" and not
"Ulf!"

For all this loyalty the king gave his brother little thanks. Indeed,
as victory followed victory, and Sigurd's fame rose higher and higher,
Ulf's heart swelled with jealousy, and jealousy presently grew to hate.
For it was not in U