ite gem.

But another beautiful sight met his astonished gaze. This was Erling's
ship of war, the Swan, which, with its figurehead erect, as though it
were a living thing, sat gracefully on the water, above its own
reflected image.

"All ready?" asked Erling, as a man stepped up to him.

"All ready," replied Thorer.

"Get on board, Swart," said Erling; "we will teach these Danes a lesson
they will not forget as long as the Springs flow. Here, Alric--where
are ye, lad?"

Now, unfortunately for himself, as well as for his friend, Alric was
almost too self-reliant in his nature. His active mind was too apt to
exert itself in independent thought in circumstances where it would have
been wiser to listen and obey. Erling had turned with the intention of
telling his little brother that he had started thus quietly in order
that he might have the pleasure of capturing the scouting boat, and of
beginning the fight at the Springs with a small band of tried men, thus
keeping the enemy in play until reinforcements should arrive; for he
shrewdly suspected that if the whole valley were to go out at once
against the vikings, they would decline the combat and make off. He had
intended, therefore, to have warned Alric to watch the Swan past a
certain point before sounding the alarm at Ulfstede. But Alric had
already formed his own opinions on the subject, and resolved to act on
them.

He suspected that Erling, in his thirst for glory, meant to have all the
fun to himself, and to attack the Danes with his single boat's crew of
fifty or sixty men. He knew enough of war to be aware that sixty men
against six hundred would have very small chance of success--in fact,
that the thing was sheer madness--so he resolved to balk, and by so
doing to save, his headstrong brother.

When Erling turned, as we have said, he beheld Alric running into the
cave at full speed. Instantly suspecting the truth, he dashed after
him, but the boy was fleet, and Erling was heavily armed. The result
was, that the former escaped, while the latter returned to the beach and
embarked in the Swan in a most unenviable state of mind.

Erling's "longship" was one of the smaller-sized war vessels of the
period. It pulled twenty oars--ten on each side--and belonged to the
class named Snekiars, or cutters, which usually had from ten to twenty
rowers on a side. To each oar three men were apportioned--one to row,
one to shield the rower, and one to throw mis