ly clench when she heard this unkind
dismissal, and in her blue eyes the tears welled up and stole
gently down her fair cheeks.

I felt that the "No" could be easily withstood, but the tears in
Thora's eyes overcame me. I gave her a look of thanks, closed the
door behind me, and again faced the storm, first going round to the
back of the house to take up in my arms the body of my poor dog. I
hung up the otter's skin on a hook in the byre, where I believed
Thora would discover it, and so make what use of it she might.

I carried the dog still further, however. Taking it down to a small
creek that gave entrance to the seashore, I came to a rock that was
washed by the deep waters, and here I tied a large stone around
Selta's neck and silently lowered the body into the sea, where the
great waves of the Atlantic murmured a solemn requiem.

Then, regaining the top of the cliff, I stood for a time looking
seaward, where the curling waves swept in from the west and dashed
with terrible strength against the hard rocks of granite. There was
no sail to be seen as far as my sight could penetrate through the
driving rain mists; but I knew that the storm would be fatal to
many a brave fisherman and sailor, and many a strong-built ship.

My sad thoughts and the noise of the breakers so much absorbed me
that I felt conscious of nothing so much as my utter loneliness.
But as I stood there in my wretchedness, suddenly a hand was laid
gently on my shoulder, and I looked round, to see Thora at my side,
with a great cloak thrown about her, and her hair streaming in the
wind.

"Halcro," she said, "it is not this way I can see you turned from
my father's door in the rain and the wind, and with that wound in
your foot. Pm sorry he spoke to you like that, for I'm sure you'll
be tired and weary.

"I have brought you some oatcake--see. Eat it, while I mend your
foot."

Then she knelt down before me on the wet, mossy rock, took a piece
of clean linen from under the cloak that covered her, and wiped
clean my wound. With her fingers she gently drew over the torn
skin, and taking another piece of white cloth bandaged it neatly
round my ankle.

While she was so employed I informed her of my fight with the otter
and the loss of my dog, and her gentle sympathy was sweet to my
troubled spirit. And then I told her where she might find the
otter's skin, and how she should make use of it.

"There, now," she said, putting a pin through the banda