of the
large net.

Already the stout ropes were strained to the uttermost--at last the net
came out bursting with salmon; more hands were hailed; it was run over
the pebbles, up the bank, and onwards to a flat open spot, where, with a
shout, it was emptied on the greensward.

Talk of silver bars! The simile is wretched. No simile is of any avail
here. The brightest and freshest silver bars ever cast might shine as
much as these salmon did, but they could not glitter so, for they could
not wriggle and spring and tumble. They could not show that delicate
pink which enhanced the silvery sheen so wondrously. They could not
exhibit that vigorous life which told of firm flakes--suggestive of
glorious meals for many a day to come. Pooh! even their intrinsic value
could not suggest anything in this case,--for all the silver bars that
ever were coined on earth could not have purchased the appetites which
made the mouths of these Norsemen to water, as they gazed in admiration
on that vast hecatomb of splendid salmon! They absolutely danced round
the fish--it might almost be said they danced _with_ them--in triumphant
glee!

"Come, come," cried Karlsefin loudly; "to work! to work! Ye may dance
after that is done. Here, sweep this pool also."

With a cheer the men ran down the bank, and little Olaf followed, having
already used his hook with such effect that he had pulled six large fish
out of various holes and added them to the general pile.

"Take care, Olaf, that you don't fall in and get drowned," cried Biarne
as he ran past.

"Hurrah!" shouted Olaf, with a flourish of his weapon, which made the
narrowest possible miss of _cleeking_ Tyrker by the nose.

"Have a care!" roared the Turk.

"You've much need to say that," replied Olaf, with a laugh, for Tyrker
at that moment set his heel upon a salmon, fell, and rolled heavily down
the bank. But Tyrker was tough. He rose with a growl and a grin and
ran on to join his comrades.

A second pool was netted, and with the like result. As the net was
being dragged forth, Olaf saw that several fish had escaped. He struck
in his hook at random, for the pools, being by that time a thick
compound of mud and water, could not be seen into.

"Oh! I've got him!" he shouted, struggling with the handle of his hook,
which jerked so violently that the sturdy little fellow was almost
thrown to the ground.

"Hold on!" cried Thorward, running to his aid.

"Why, Olaf, what's