and laughing
inordinately.

Poor Olaf guessed at once that the boy had been set to watch him; he
therefore wheeled about and walked back to the river, where, going out
on a spit of land that he might not be overheard, he sat down on the
ground and communed bitterly with himself.

"Oh why, why did I break my promise?" he murmured in deep despondency.

After a long silence he began to think aloud.

"It all comes of _disobedience_!" he muttered.

"Father used to say, `If you love me, obey me. If you want to prove
that you love Gudrid, _obey_ her.' That's it, Olaf. It's there that
the sin lies. He told me never to pass the ridge, and I _did_ pass the
ridge, even though I had promised not to; and so, owing to that little
bit of disobedience, here you are, Olaf--and Snorrie too--poor Snorrie--
and we're likely to remain here for ever, as far as I can see. Oh that
I had not done it! But what good can wishing do _now_? If I had loved
father better, perhaps I would have obeyed him better."

It would almost seem as if Olaf had heard of such a word as this--"If ye
love me, keep my commandments!"

After a few minutes he broke forth again--"Yes, I know that I did not
intend to disobey; nevertheless I _did_ it. And I did not think such
awful things would follow--but that does not mend the matter. What
_shall_ I do? Snorrie, I think I could gladly lay down my life, if I
could give you back once more to your mother."

Snorro heard not the remark. He was as sound as a top, and Olaf looked
sadly at the little head that lay on his shoulder. Then it struck him
that it was high time to have the child put to bed, so he rose and
hurried back to the women's tent, where he was received with as much
kindness as before.

Very soon Snorro's little head reposed upon a pillow of rabbit-skins,
and not long after that Olaf went to rest beside him on a deer-skin
couch, where, lying on his back, he could see the sky through the hole
in the top of the tent whence the smoke of the fire escaped. As he lay
there the burden of his thoughts was ever the same--"Oh _why_ did I do
it? Why did I disobey?" Thus the poor boy lay, self-condemned, and
gazed upwards and pondered, until sweet sleep came and carried heart and
brain to the blessed refuge of oblivion.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

REINFORCEMENTS SENT OFF TO KARLSEFIN--FOES DISCOVERED IN THE WOODS--A
NIGHT ATTACK, AND OTHER WARLIKE MATTERS.

We must return now for a little to the