out eagerly for him, and great was her joy at his safe return. The little girl's lively imagination had been conjuring up all sorts of terrible adventures through which her hero might be passing, and she looked anxiously at him and his boat for signs of a fray. None were visible, not even the armour, for it had been stowed under the foot-boards.

"What have you done with Pirate?" Signy asked.

Now Yaspard was a very truthful boy, and could not tell a "whopper" to save his life. "Pirate is all right," he answered; "and if you will come up to my room, Mootie, I'll tell you my great secret, for it has begun to work. Only think!"

There were few things he loved more than his bright little sister's sympathy. He was never so happy as when pouring into her ears the story of his exploits. He thoroughly enjoyed telling her all about his expedition to Havnholme, and his pleasure was not even damped by the tears rising in her blue eyes when he described Gloy a prisoner in the geo with Pirate for jailer.

"Wasn't it a good lark, Signy? Don't I make a ripping Viking, &c.?"

She smiled in spite of her compassion, but she said, "Oh, brodhor, you know he is only a poor boy. If it had been one of the others it would not have mattered so much; but Gloy Winwick is a poor widow's son, and an only son, and it seems just a little—horrid."

"I never thought of it that way," Yaspard said, looking very crestfallen; "but it can't be helped now, any way. However, I'll make it up to him afterwards. He shan't lose by this, I tell you."

Signy twined her arms round his neck, and whispered softly, "Brodhor, is it quite—quite right, do you think, to do what Uncle Brüs would be very angry about?"

"I don't think it's wrong any way," the lad replied. "I haven't disobeyed uncle, and I haven't told any stories. I've only—— There, Signy; if it seems a mean or deceitful thing I've done, I'll set that right in a jiffy. I'll just go and tell Uncle Brüs about it myself."

"How brave you are, brodhor! How straight you go at things, to be sure!"

"And how round the corner and round my neck you go with things, Mootie-ting!" laughed he; then more gravely asked, "Where is uncle, do you know?"

"He is out, as usual, after specimens: he has been out a long time."

"Oh, well, I'll tell him when he comes."

[1] "Had," the den of a wild animal.

CHAPTER VI.

"NOW EACH GOES HIS WAY."

Some hours later Mr. Adiesen appeared at his own door laden with blocks of serpentine, fragments of lichen, moss, seaweed, and shells. Yaspard followed him into a little room which was doing duty as a study until the Den was restored to order, and as the scientist put down his treasures the lad said—in a trembling voice, be it confessed—"I want to tell you about something, uncle; something I've been doing."

"Well, go on," said Mr. Adiesen, not looking up, and in a very grim tone.

"I—I—there used to be—I've heard you say—that our ancestors were Vikings; and I—I thought I'd be—a Viking."

Yaspard got so far, and stuck. It was hard to go on telling of his romantic fancy and wild escapade with that grave face before him.

"You thought you'd be a Viking," Mr. Adiesen repeated calmly, then paused, and asked in ice-cold tones, "Well, what else do you wish to say?"

"I think it right to tell you—I feel I ought—even about what—I mean—in fun;—but, uncle," and again poor Yaspard came to a deadlock, and might never have made a satisfactory confession if help had not come to him in the form of Signy.

She had been hovering about the door in much trepidation, and, fearing that her brother's courage might fail him, she stole to his side, put her hand in his, looked fearlessly at Uncle Brüs, and said—

"He has not done anything to be ashamed of, uncle; only we thought you ought to know, because it came out of the feud partly."

The Laird's brows came together in a frown, but he was very fond of Signy. She was his one "weakness," Aunt Osla said, and said truly.

"Let Yaspard speak for himself, my dear," her uncle answered gently, while his grim feature relaxed as he looked at her; and the boy, braced by the touch of the little hand in his, blurted out—

"I wanted to know the lads of Lunda, and have some fun, as they have and most boys have; and I couldn't be friends with them because you had forbidden that, so I took up the feud in a sort of way on my own account, and determined to make raids upon them, and have fights (sham-fights) and do as the Vikings did—in a kind of play, of course. They are the enemy; and we could make-believe to slaughter and capture each other, and——"

Mortal man could stand no more than that. Mr. Adiesen, drawing his brows together savagely to hide his strong inclination to burst into laughter, called his nephew by some not complimentary names, and dismissed him abruptly, saying, "Go along with you, and take your fun any way you please. Only remember—no friendships with Lunda folk. Play with them under the black flag, if that gives you amusement; and see that your Viking-craze keeps within the bounds of civilised laws."

Yaspard escaped, rejoicing; but Signy lingered to ask, "Would you object to taking prisoners, uncle?"

"Child, let him prison every man and boy in Lunda if he likes—if he can catch them."

Signy flew to tell her brother of this further concession, and Mr. Adiesen shut the door upon himself. If the young folks had listened outside that door they would have heard a curious noise; but whether it meant that the old man was growling to himself or suppressing laughter, we, who do not know Mr. Adiesen's moods very well, cannot tell.

Yaspard was only too glad to get off so easily, and paused for nothing, but, racing off to his boat with Signy, was soon sailing up the voe—not across, as before, for his destination was not Noostigard.

Boden voe is very beautiful It curves between steep shores, and at one place narrows so much that you could almost touch either shore with a sillack-rod from a boat passing through. When it is ebb-tide you can walk dry-shod across this passage (called the Hoobes). Here the voe terminates in a lovely little basin, almost land-locked, and placid as a mountain tarn.

Where the voe ends there is only a mere neck of land. It rises abruptly from both sides, and is crowned by a peak known as the Heogne.

Under shelter of the Heogne, and commanding a magnificent view of islands and ocean-wastes, stands the old dwelling of Trullyabister. Mr. Neeven was the cousin of Mr. Adiesen: he left Shetland in his early youth, and no one heard whether he was alive or dead for thirty years. Then he returned to his native land, a gloomy, disappointed man, hard to be recognised as the light-hearted lad who had gone away to make a fortune in California, and be happy ever afterwards. It seemed that he had made the fortune, but the happiness had eluded him. He would give no account of his life, and seldom cared to converse with any one except Brüs Adiesen, from whom he asked and readily obtained the half-ruined home of their fathers. Two or three rooms were made habitable; the half-witted brother of James Harrison was hired as attendant; cart-loads of books were brought from the South (by which vague term the Shetlanders mean Great Britain); and Gaun Neeven settled himself in that wild, lone spot, purposing to end his days there. He was there when Yaspard was very small, therefore the boy always associated his hermit-relative with the "haunted" house of Boden; and as he grew older, and the romantic side of his character developed rapidly, he was greatly attracted to Trullyabister and its queer occupants—fule-Tammy being, in his way, as mysterious a recluse as his master.

Yaspard found a great many excuses for going to Trullyabister, although he very rarely was permitted