rt at a hand-to-hand
struggle with his captor, but the power of the grip on the back of his
neck induced him to abandon that idea in despair. Then he thought of a
sudden wrench and a desperate flight, but as that implied the leaving of
Snorro to his fate, he abandoned that idea too in disdain. Suddenly,
however, he recurred to it, reflecting that, if he could only manage to
make his own escape, he might perhaps find his way back to the
settlement, give the alarm, and lead his friends to Snorro's rescue.
The power of this thought was so strong upon him, that he suddenly
stooped and gave his active body a twist, which he considered absolutely
awful for strength, but, much to his astonishment, did not find himself
free. On the contrary, he received such a shake, accompanied by such a
kick, that from that moment he felt all hope to be gone.

Thus they proceeded through the woods, and out upon an open space
beyond, and over a variety of ridges, and down into a number of hollows,
and again through several forests not unlike the first, until poor Olaf
began to wonder whether they had not passed the boundaries of the world
altogether and got into another region beyond--until his legs, sturdy
though they were, began to give way beneath him--until the noon-day sun
shone perpendicularly down through the trees, and felt as if it were
burning up his brain. Then they came to a rivulet, on the banks of
which were seen several tents of a conical form, made of skins, from the
tops of which smoke was issuing.

No sooner did the savage come in sight of these tents than he uttered a
low peculiar cry. It was responded to, and immediately a band of
half-naked savages, like himself, advanced to meet him.

There was much gesticulation and loud excited talking, and a great deal
of pointing to the two captives, with looks expressive of surprise and
delight, but not a word could Olaf understand; and the gestures were not
definite in their expression.

When Snorro was placed sitting-wise on the ground--nearly half dead with
fatigue, alarm, and hunger--he crept towards Olaf, hid his face in his
breast, and sobbed. Then did Olaf's conscience wake up afresh and stab
him with a degree of vigour that was absolutely awful--for Olaf's
conscience was a tender one; and it is a strange, almost paradoxical,
fact, that the tenderer a conscience is the more wrathfully does it stab
and lacerate the heart of its owner when he has done wrong!

There wa