lling to land him
on Boden, and in the grey, quiet night, this most prosaic of the Lunda
lads was started on a somewhat eerie journey. A great deal of time
would have been lost if the haaf-boat had carried him into Boden voe,
so Tom good-naturedly requested to be put ashore at the nearest point,
determined to walk across the island to Moolapund. Tom had declared
that he was neither tired nor sleepy, but he was both; and by the time
he had walked over a mile of Boden heath he was fain to stop more than
once and take a brief rest. Each time he sat down on the soft,
fragrant verdure, he felt less inclined to get up. How it happened at
last he never knew, but Tom sat down by an old planticrue,[1] and
remained there; and there he was lying in blissful slumber when the sun
was well up over the Heogue, and Gaun Neeven had come out for an early
stroll. He always took his walks abroad when the rest of the Boden
folk were in their beds, therefore it was believed that he seldom went
out at all.

If a philosopher like Mr. Neeven, who had passed through many years of
most exciting life, could be surprised, he was when, coming around the
planticrue, he stumbled upon Tom Holtum, spread out at ease, and
unconscious of his position.

The man stood stock still for some minutes, contemplating the prostrate
figure, until a grim smile gradually spread over his melancholy
countenance; then stooping, he touched Tom's face and said, "Wake up,
lad, wake up!"

Tom's eyes were wide open in a moment, and he sat up and stared at the
disturber of his repose.

"What are you doing here?" Mr. Neeven asked, in his usual stern tones,
which did not help to clarify Tom's understanding of his own position.
He stammered some very incoherent words, which were no explanation at
all, and did not even attempt to get on his feet.

Mr. Neeven was not a patient man. "Get up," he said, "and come with
me. I must know what you mean by skulking about my house in the
night-time."

Tom rose slowly, and then discovered that he was in the near vicinity
of Trullyabister.

"This is a pretty fix," thought he, as he followed Mr. Neeven. "I
believe I'll bolt!"

But a moment's reflection showed him how futile any attempt at escape
would be, so he silently proceeded in Mr. Neeven's wake, repenting him
sorely for being so foolish as to fall asleep that night.

When they were in the dismal apartment where the recluse spent the
greater part of his time poring ov