shiver
combined. "It feels as though the air were full of ghosts, and we were
the only living beings in the whole world," he muttered.

A tow-headed giant known as Long Lodin overheard him, and laughed
noisily, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the deck where
Leif's eagle face showed high above their heads.

"_His_ luck could carry us safe through even the world of the dead," he
reassured him.

But Rolf paused in his chess game to throw his friend a keen glance.
"The Silver-Tongue has been one not apt to speak womanish words," he
said, gravely. "Something there is on your mind which disturbs you,
comrade."

Sigurd pulled himself together with an attempt at his usual careless
laugh. "Is it your opinion that I am the only person who is thinking of
ghosts to-night?" he parried. "Look yonder at Kark, how he fears to turn
his back on the shadows, lest the Evil One overtake him! It is my belief
that he would like it better to die than to venture into the dark of the
foreroom."

Following his glance, they beheld the bowerman, leaning against the mast
with a face as pale as a toadstool. When a sailor threw a piece of dried
fish at him, he jumped as though he had been struck by a stone. Rolf's
gentle smile expanded into a broad grin, and he let himself be turned
thus easily from his object.

"Now that is true; I had not observed him before. He appears as if the
goddess Ran already had hold of his feet to pull him down under the
water. Let us have a little fun with him. I will send him to the
foreroom on an errand."

Robert of Normandy set down his drinking-horn with a sharp motion, and
Sigurd leaned forward hastily; but the Wrestler's soft voice was already
speeding his command.

"Ho there, valiant Kark-with-the-white-cheeks! Get you into the foreroom
and bring my bag of chess-men from the brass-bound box."

Kark heard the order without a motion except an angry scowl, and Sigurd
drew back with something like a breath of relief. But Rolf made a sudden
move as though to rise to his feet, and the effect was magical.

"I am going as soon as is necessary," the thrall growled. "You said
nothing of being in haste." And he shuffled over to one of the torches
to light a splinter in its flame, and pushed his way forward with
dragging feet.

Sigurd and the Norman both sprang after him.

"I tell you, Rolf, I have something against this!" Sigurd stormed, as
the Wrestler's iron hand closed upon his cloak. "My--my--my