to do the same. They rowed
quite round the islet; but, to their amazement, they could not only
perceive no place to land at, but there was no trace of the canoe. It
seemed to them as if those calm and clear waters had swallowed up the
skiff and Rolf in the few minutes after they had lost sight of him.
Hund thought the case was accounted for when he recalled Nipen's
displeasure. A thrill ran through him as he said to himself that the
spirits of the region had joined with him against Rolf, and swallowed
up, almost before his eyes, the man he hated. He put his hands before
his face for a moment, while his comrades stared at him; then, thinking
he must be under a delusion, he gazed earnestly over the waters as far
as he could see. They lay calm and bright, and there was certainly no
kind of vessel on their surface for miles round.

The rowers wondered, questioned, uttered shouts, spoke altogether, and
then looked at Hund in silence, struck by his countenance, and finished
by rowing two or three times round the islet, slowly, and looking up its
bare rocky sides, which rose like walls from the water; but nothing
could they see or hear. When tired of their fruitless search they
returned to the schooner, ready to report to the master that the fiord
was enchanted.

Meantime, Rolf had heard every plash of their oars, and every tone of
their voices, as they rowed round his place of refuge. He was not on
the islet, but in it. This was such an island as Swein, the sea-king of
former days, took refuge in; and Rolf was only following his example.
Long before, he had discovered a curious cleft in the rock, very narrow,
and all but invisible at high-water, even if a bush of dwarf-ash and
birch had not hung down over it. At high-water, nothing larger than a
bird could go in and out beneath the low arch; but there was a cavern
within, whose sandy floor sloped up to some distance above high-water
mark. In this cavern was Rolf. He had thrust his little skiff between
the walls of rock, crushing in its sides as he did so. The bushes
drooped behind him, hanging naturally over the entrance as before. Rolf
pulled up his broken vessel upon the little sandy beach, within the
cave, saved a pile of his fish, and returned a good many to the water,
and then sat down upon the sea-weeds to listen. There was no light but
a little which found its way through the bushy screen and up from the
green water; and the sounds--the tones of the pira