hat he was touched by the
simplicity of a people that could trust a man to take himself to
prison, and he would not wrong that confidence by any cheating. So he
ordered the guide to lead on where he had been directed.

They reached the prison towards nightfall, and there old Adam bade a
touching farewell of his people, urging them not to wait for him, but
to push on to Reykjavik where alone they could find ships to take
them home to England. And some of the good fellows wept at this
parting, though they all thought it foolish, but one old salt named
Chalse shed no tears, and only looked crazier than ever, and chuckled
within himself from some dark cause.

And indeed there was small reason to weep, because, simple as the
first Sheriff's conduct had been, that of the second Sheriff was yet
simpler, for when Adam presented himself as a prisoner the Sheriff
asked for his papers, and then diving into his pocket to find them,
the good man found that they were gone--lost, dropped by the way or
destroyed by accident--and no search sufficed to recover them. So
failing of his warrant the Sheriff shook his head at Adam's story and
declined to imprison him, and the prisoner had no choice but to go
free. Thus Adam returned to his company, who heard with laughter and
delight of the close of his adventure, all save Chalse, who looked
sheepish and edged away whenever Adam glanced at him. Thus ended in
merriment an incident that threatened many evil consequences, and was
attended by two luckless mischances.

The first of these two was that, by going to the prison, which lay
three Danish miles out of the direct track to the capital, Adam and
his company had missed young Oscar and Zoega's men, whom Michael
Sunlocks had sent out from Reykjavik in search of them. The second
was that their guide had disappeared and left them, within an hour of
bringing them to the door of the Sheriff. His name was Jonas; he had
been an idle and a selfish fellow; he had demanded his wages day by
day; and seeing Adam part from the rest, he had concluded that with
the purse-bearer the purse of the company had gone. But he alone had
known the course, and, worthless as he had been to them in other
ways, the men began to rail at him when they found that he had
abandoned them and left them to struggle on without help.

"The sweep!" "the thief!" "the wastrel!" "the gomerstang!" they
called him, with wilder names beside. But old Adam rebuked them and
said, "Good