upon the dying fires and
now upon the blood-marks in her arm, waited in silence. The night was
cold and windy, but the moon shone bright, and by its light Atli and his
people made their way to the south-western rocks, on which the sea beat
madly.

"What lies yonder?" said Atli, pointing to some black things that lay
beneath them upon the rock, cast there by the waves. A man climbed down
the cliff's side that is here as though it were cut in steps, and then
cried aloud:

"A ship's mast, new broken, lord."

"It seems that Swanhild dreams true," muttered Atli; "but I am sure of
this: that none have come ashore alive in such a sea."

Presently the man who searched the rocks below cried aloud again:

"Here lie two great men, locked in each other's arms. They seem to be
dead."

Now all the men climb down the slippery rocks as best they may, though
the spray wets them, and with them goes Atli. The Earl is a brisk man,
though old in years, and he comes first to where the two lie. He who
was undermost lay upon his back, but his face is hid by the thick golden
hair that flowed across it.

"Man's body indeed, but woman's locks," said Atli as he put out his hand
and drew the hair away, so that the light of the moon fell on the face
beneath.

He looked, then staggered back against the rock.

"By Thor!" he cried, "here lies the corpse of Eric Brighteyes!" and Atli
wrung his hands and wept, for he loved Eric much.

"Be not so sure that the men are dead, Earl," said one, "I thought I saw
yon great carle move but now."

"He is Skallagrim Lambstail, Eric's Death-shadow," said Atli again. "Up
with them, lads--see, yonder lies a plank--and away to the hall. I will
give twenty in silver to each of you if Eric lives," and he unclasped
his cloak and threw it over both of them.

Then with much labour they loosed the grip of the two men one from the
other, and they set Skallagrim on the plank. But eight men bore Eric up
the cliff between them, and the task was not light, though the Earl held
his head, from which the golden hair hung like seaweed from a rock.

At length they came to the hall and carried them in. Swanhild, seeing
them come, moved down from the high seat.

"Bring lamps, and pile up the fires," cried Atli. "A strange thing has
come to pass, Swanhild, and thou dost dream wisely, indeed, for here
we have Eric Brighteyes and Skallagrim Lambstail. They were locked like
lovers in each other's arms, but I know not if th