rey's_ log, carefully kept by
Harry Mitchell, who every evening recorded all the day's doings,
however trivial these had been. Many of their adventures were so
startling that he might well have been excused if his attention had
been occasionally diverted from this duty; but that diary was a model
of faithful discharging of a promise given to more than one of the dear
home friends, whose thoughts we know were with the Viking-boys. At
present I can only tell you a small part of what happened during the
week which the _Osprey_ spent in cruising among the lonely skerries and
holmes of Hialtland.

More than once our lads had spoken a haaf-boat, and sent messages to
Lunda, from whence Fred had taken care to despatch the news, "_Osprey_
spoken. All well," to Boden and Burra Isle.

They never landed on any inhabited spot, but preferred to camp for the
night on some lofty rock, whose steep sides they had to scale at the
risk of their bones, or on some green holme, where the waves lapped
round the place of their rest, tossing spray on them as they slept.

They always kept a watch, knowing from past experience how swiftly the
squalls arise. It would be no joke, they knew, if their boat were
caught by the sea in some geo while they slept on the high rock above;
and well they knew that a very little increase of wind would cause the
waves to wash them from the low holmes in a moment. They kept a wary
eye on the weather, and always contrived to have a safe port to lee
when atmospheric disturbance threatened.

They gathered a strange, even valuable, collection of curiosities in
various departments of science; nothing escaped Harry in the shape of
plant-life, shells, or geological specimens, and the others followed
his example in other lines. A great many rare and beautiful
curiosities were brought up on the fishing-line. Tom Holtum came to
grief more than once climbing after birds' nests, and Bill Mitchell had
to be rescued from drowning again and again in consequence of his
ardour in pursuit of wreckage.

There are always mournful trophies of the power of ocean to be found
floating around those isles, and our young adventurers were frequently
reminded of this by discovering oars, planks, casks, or other flotsam,
which had belonged to some lost ship that had disappeared for ever.

I ought to tell you that Thor was not kept a prisoner in his basket all
this time. Yaspard knew that the bird would remain by him and the
well