te of the obligations of kindred. And again,
this personal leaning was greatly strengthened by the inherited
tendency of Norse families to "stand by each other in all haps."
Therefore he felt sure of his welcome; for, though Paul was but
his far-off cousin, they were both Borsons, sprung from the same
Norse root, children of the same great ancestor, the wise and brave
Norwegian Bor.

Lying in the Bay of Lerwick, the sense of security and of nearness
to friends gave him what he had long missed--a night of deep,
dreamless sleep. When he awoke it was late in the morning, and he had
his breakfast to prepare and every spar and sail and rope to put in
perfect order; then he dressed himself with care, and sailed
into harbor, managing his boat with a deftness and skill he expected
a town of fishermen and sailors to take notice of. Alas, it is so
difficult to find a fortunate hour! David's necessary delay had
brought the morning nearly to the noon, and he could hardly have
fallen on a more depressing time; for the trade of the early
morning was over, and the men were in their houses taking that
sleep which those who work by night must secure in the daytime.
The fishing-boats, all emptied of their last night's "take" and
cleaned, were idly rocking on the water. The utmost quiet reigned
in the sunny streets, and the little pier was deserted. No one
took any notice of David.

Greatly disappointed, and even wounded, by this very natural
neglect, David made fast his boat and stepped on shore. He put his
feet down firmly, as if he was taking possession of his own, and
stood still and looked around. He saw a man with his hands in his
pockets loitering down the street, and he went toward him; but as
he came within speaking distance the man turned into a house and
shut the door. Pained and curious, he continued his aimless walk.
As he passed Fae's store he heard the confused sound of a number of
men talking, then silence, then the tingling notes of a fiddle very
cleverly played. For a moment he was bewitched by the music; then he
was sure that nothing but the little sinful fiddle of carnal
dance and song could make sounds so full of temptation. And as
Odysseus, passing the dwelling-place of the sirens, "closed his
ears and went swiftly by, singing the praises of the gods," so
David, remembering his father's counsels, closed his ears to the
enchanting strains and hastened beyond their power to charm him.

A little farther on a lovely