Tells something of the Doings of Solve Klofe and Others, and treats of a few of the Marvellous Adventures of Guttorm Stoutheart.  
The scene is changed. It is night; yet how different from night in most other inhabited parts of the earth! The midnight sun is just sinking beneath the horizon, close to the spot whence, in about twenty minutes, he will rise, to repeat his prolonged course of nearly four-and-twenty hours through the northern sky. But if the darkness of night is absent, its deep quietude is there. The mighty cliffs that rise like giant walls to heaven, casting broad, heavy shadows over the sea, send forth no echoes, for the innumerable birds that dwell among them are silently perched like snowflakes on every crag, or nestled in every crevice, buried in repose. The sea resembles glass, and glides with but a faint sigh upon the shore. All is impressively still on mountain and fiord. Everything in nature is asleep, excepting the wakeful eye of day, the hum of distant rills, the boom of inland cataracts, and the ripple on the shore. These sounds, however, do but render the universal silence more profound by suggesting the presence of those stupendous forces which lie latent everywhere.
 
A white mist floats over the sea like a curtain of gauze, investing insignificant objects with grandeur, and clothing caverns, cliffs, and mountain gorges with unusual sublimity.
 
Only one object suggestive of man is visible through the haze. It is a ship—of the old, old-fashioned build—with high stem and stern, and monstrous figurehead. Its forefoot rests upon the strip of gravel in yonder bay at the foot of the cliff, whose summit is lost in the clouds. The hull reposes on its own reflected image, and the taper mast is repeated in a wavy but distinct line below. It is the “longship”; the “war vessel”; the “sea horse” of Solve Klofe, the son of King Hunthiof of M?re, whom Harald Fairhair slew.
 
Solve had, as we have before said, spent the winter in taking his revenge by herrying the coast in his longship, and doing all in his power to damage the King’s men, as well as those who were friendly to his cause. Among other things he had, early in spring, persuaded Haldor the Fierce to let him have the use of one of his warships, with a few of his best men, to accompany him on a viking cruise. Erling had resisted his pressing invitation to bear him company, because of important business, the nature of which he did not think it necessary to disclose. His friend Glumm the Gruff also declined from similar reasons. At all events, he was similarly pre-engaged and taciturn. Thorer the Thick, however, and Kettle Flatnose, and young Alric—the latter by special and importunate request—were allowed to accompany him on this expedition.
 
We do not intend to give the details of this foray, although it was unusually stirring and prolific of adventure. Suffice it to say, that they had several hard fights both with Swedish and Danish vikings, in all of which Alric distinguished himself for reckless daring, and would certainly have been carried home dead upon his own shield had not Kettle Flatnose watched over him with the solicitude of a father, and warded off many a blow that was aimed at his pugnacious head. We fear it must be added that Alric was not sufficiently impressed with his friend’s services in this way. The truth is that he entertained the firm belief that nobody could kill him, and that he could kill anybody—which was all very well as far as it went, but would not have carried him scathless through the cruise, had not the stout Irishman been at his back.
 
Immense and valuable booty was gained at this time, for one of the vessels which they captured had been cruising in southern lands, and was returning with a large quantity of gold and silver ornaments when Solve Klofe attacked it. A misfortune befell them, however. On their way home a storm drove Thorer’s vessel on the rocks in a fog, and it became a total wreck. The crew were all saved, however, and much of the lading, by Solve, who stowed the goods in his own ship, and brought home the men. They were within a day’s sail of Horlingdal, when they put ashore to take a few hours’ repose.
 
Three hours after midnight Solve Klofe, whose breathing up to that time had resembled that of an infant, gave vent to a prolonged bass snore, and opened his eyes. This was followed by the shutting of his mouth, and with one of those satisfactory stretchings of the body with which a sound sleeper is wont in the morning to dismiss repose and recall his energies. Having lain still a few moments to enjoy the result, Solve sat up, and stretching forth his hand, drew aside the curtain of the tent under which he slept, and looked out. The sight that gladdened his eyes was beautiful beyond description, for the sun was up in all his northern glory, and shone on the silver sea with dazzling light, while he scattered away the mists of morning. But the best sight of all to the bold viking was the splendid warship which, with painted sides and shields, and gilded masts and prow, glowed and glittered like a beautiful gem in a setting of the brightest azure blue.
 
Turning his eyes inside his tent again, Solve gazed with the expressionless aspect of a still drowsy man upon the countenance of Kettle, whose flat nose and open mouth gave vent to tones resembling those of a bassoon. Beside him, and nestling close to him, lay the youthful Alric, with his curly head resting on Kettle’s broad bosom; for the lad, albeit manly enough when awake, had sufficient of the child still about him to induce a tendency on his part, when asleep, to make use of any willing friend as a pillow. Thorer the Thick was also there, with his head on his arm, his body sprawling indescribably, his shield above him like a literal coverlet, and his right hand on his sword-hilt.
 
“Ho!” exclaimed Solve, in a tone that marvellously resembled the tones of modern men in similar circumstances.
 
Kettle and Thorer, however, sprang up to a sitting posture with very primitive alacrity, for in those days a man’s life often depended on his being and keeping very wide-awake.
 
Poor Alric was tumbled somewhat unceremoniously to one side, but that failed to awaken him, for he was not yet sufficiently trained to sleep in the midst of alarms, and felt very naturally inclined to growl and bite when shaken or told to “get up!”
 
In a few minutes, however, his lethargy was overcome; the men were aroused; the tents were struck; the longship was pushed off, and, under the influence of thirty pair of oars, it crept like a monstrous insect away over the sea.
 
Those who had not to work at the oars sat at first quietly on the thwarts, or leaned over the gunwale gazing into the deep, or up at the sky, enjoying the warm air and their own fancies. But after a time talkative spirits began to loose their tongues, and ere long a murmur of quiet conversation pervaded the ship.
 
“I wonder what news we shall hear at the stede when we arrive?” said Thorer to Kettle, who with several others sat on the poop beside Solve.
 
“I hope it won’t be bad news,” answered Kettle. “Harald is not the man to sleep through the summer when there is work to be done. If it wasn’t that I expect to give him the tooth-ache before I go, surely I should have been in Ireland long ago.”
 
“Whom didst thou serve under, Kettle, before we brought thee to Norway?” asked Alric.
 
“Under the King of Dublin,” replied Kettle.
 
“Was he a great king?”
 
“A great king? Aye, never was there a greater; and a great king he is yet, if he’s alive, though I have my own fears on that point, for he was taking badly to ale when I left.”
 
There was something pathetic yet humorous in the tone and expression with which Kettle said this which caused Alric to laugh. The Irishman started, and for an instant his huge countenance blazed with a look of wrath which was quite majestic, and overawed the boy, bold though he was. But it passed away in a moment, and was replaced by a sorrowful look as Kettle shook his head and said—
 
“Ah! boy, your laugh reminded me of the laugh of the villain Haabrok who took the old king’s throne at the time I was carried off, bound hand and foot. Lucky was it for him that my hands were not free then.—Well, well, this sounds like bragging,” he added with a smile, “which is only fit for boys and cowards.”
 
Alric winced a little at this, for he was quite aware of his own tendency to boast, and for a moment he felt a strong inclination to stand up for “boys”, and assert, that although boasting was common enough with cowardly boys, it was not so with all boys; but on consideration he thought it best to hold his tongue, on that point, at least until he should have freed himself of the evil of boasting. To change the subject he said—
 
“Was the old king fond of thee, Kettle?”
 
“Aye, as fond of me as of his own son.”
 
“Was he like my father?” pursued the boy.
 
“No; there are not many men like thy father, lad; but he was a stout and brave old man, and a great warrior in his day. Now I think of it, he was very like Guttorm Stoutheart.”
 
“Then he was a handsome man,” said Solve Klofe with emphasis.
 
“He was,” continued Kettle, “but not quite so desperate. Old Guttorm is the most reckless man I ever did see. Did I ever tell ye of the adventure I had with him when we went on viking cruise south to Valland?”
 
“No,” said Solve; “let us hear about it; but stay till I change the oarsmen.”
 
He went forward and gave the order to relieve the men who had rowed from the land, and when the fresh men were on the benches he returned and bade Kettle go on.
 
“’Tis a fine country,” said the Irishman, glancing round him with a glowing eye, and speaking in a low tone, as if to himself—“one to be proud of.”
 
And in truth there was ground for his remark, for the mists had by that time entirely cleared away, leaving unveiled a sea so calm and bright that the innumerable islets off the coast appeared as if floating in air.
 
“That is true,” said Thorer. “I sometimes wonder, Kettle, at thy longing to return to Ireland. I am in the same case with thyself—was taken from my home in Jemteland, laboured as a thrall, wrought out my freedom, and remained in Haldor’s service, but have never wished to return home.”
 
“Didst thou leave a wife and children behind thee?” asked Kettle.
 
“Nay; I was carried away while very young.”
 
“Is thy father alive, or thy mother?”
 
“No, they are both dead.”
 
“Then I wonder not that ye have no desire to return home. My father and mother are both alive—at least I have good reason to believe so—my wife and children are waiting for me. Canst wonder, man, that I long to behold once more the green hills of Ireland?”
 
“Nay, if that be so, I wonder not,” replied Thorer.
 
“Come, Kettle, thou forgettest that we wait for the story about old Guttorm Stoutheart,” said Solve Klofe, arranging the corner of a sail so as to protect his back from the sun.
 
“’Tis an old story now in Horlingdal,” said Kettle; “but as thou hast not been in this quarter for a long time, no doubt it is new to thee. Thorer there knows it well; but I find that it bears telling more than once. Well, it was, as I have said, two years past that Guttorm went south to Valland on viking cruise. He called at Horlingdal in passing, and got some of the dalesmen. Among others, I was allowed to go. He and I got on very well together, and we were fortunate in getting much booty. One day we came to a part of the coast where we saw a strong castle of stone on the top of a hill a short way inland. We also saw plenty of cattle on a plain near the sea, so Guttorm ordered his longship to be steered for the shore, and we began to drive some of the cattle down to the beach, intending to slaughter them there, as our provisions were getting low. On seeing this, a party of men came out from the castle and bade us begone. We told them to be easy in their minds, for we only wanted a little food. We even went so far as to ask it of them civilly, but the men were such surly fellows that they refused to listen to reason, and attacked us at once. Of course we drove them back into their castle, but in doing so we lost one or two of our best men. This angered old Guttorm, who is not a quarrelsome man, as ye know. He would have gone away peaceably enough if he had been let alone to help himself to a few beasts; but his blood was set up by that time, so he ordered all the men on shore, and we pitched our tents and besieged the castle. Being made of stone, there was no chance of setting it on fire, and as the walls were uncommonly high, it was not possible to take it by assault. Well, we sat down before it, and for two days tried everything we could think of to take it, but failed, for there were plenty of men in it, and they defended the walls stoutly. Besides this, to say the truth, we had already lost a number of good men on the cruise and could ill afford to lose more.
 
“On the third day some of our chief men advised Guttorm to give it up, but that made him so furious that no one dared speak to him about it for another two days. At the end of that time his nephew plucked up heart, and going to him, said—
 
“‘Uncle, do you see the little birds that fly back and forward over the castle walls so freely, and build their nests in the thatch of the housetops?’
 
“‘I do, nephew,’ says Guttorm. ‘What then?’
 
“‘My advice is,’ says the nephew, ‘that you should order the men to make each a pair of wings like those the birds have, and then we shall all fly over the walls, for it seems to me that there is no other way of getting into the castle.’
 
“‘Thou art a droll knave,’ replies Gu............