Ole danced up to the group of students.

“No wonder you feel light after getting rid of such a load of dirt,” said Sanford.

“O, I’m all right,” laughed Ole, good-naturedly; for he did not seem to think that dirt was any disgrace or dishonor to him.

“How came you in that leaky boat, Norway?” demanded Rodman; and the entire party gathered around the waif, anxious to hear the story of his adventure.

“I went into it.”

“Is that so?” added Wilde.

“Yes, sir.”

“I say, Norway, you are smart,” replied Rodman.

“Smart? Where?”

“All over.”

“I don’t feel it.”

“But, Norway, how came you in that old tub, out of sight of land?” persisted Rodman, returning to the charge again.

“I went into it just the same as one of you Americans would have got into it,” laughed Ole, who did not think it necessary to resort to the tactics he had used with the principal and the captain. “You could have done it if you had tried as hard as I did.”

“After you got in, then, how came the boat out here, so far from land?”

“The wind, the tide, and the broken oar brought it out here.”

“Indeed! But won’t you tell us your story, Ole?”

“A story? O, yes. Once there was a king of Norway whose name was Olaf, and half the men of his country were named after him, because—”

“Never mind that story, Ole. We want to hear the story about yourself.”

“About myself? Well, last year things didn’t go very well with me; the crop of potatoes was rather short on my farm, and my vessels caught but few fish; so I decided to make a voyage up the Mediterranean, to spend the winter.”

“What did you go in, Norway?” asked Wilde.

“In my boat. We don’t make voyages on foot here in Norway.”

“What boat?”

“You won’t let me tell my story; so I had better finish it at once. I got back as far as the North Sea, and almost into the Sleeve, when a gale came down upon me, and strained my boat so that she leaked badly. I was worn out with fatigue, and dropped asleep one afternoon. I was dreaming that the King of Sweden and Norway came off in a big man-of-war, to welcome me home again. He hailed me himself, with, “Boat, ahoy!” which waked me; and then I saw this ship. You know all the rest of it.”

“Do you mean to say you went up the Mediterranean in that old craft?”

“I’ve told my story, and if you don’t believe it, you can look in the almanac, and see whether it is true or not,” laughed Ole. “But I must go and show myself to the captain and the big gentleman.”

“He’s smart—isn’t he?” said Sanford, as the young Norwegian went aft to exhibit himself to the officers on the quarter deck.

“Yes; but what’s the reason he won’t tell how he happened out here in that leaky tub?” added Rodman.

“I don’t know; he wouldn’t tell the captain, nor the principal.”

“I don’t understand it.”

“No one understands it. Perhaps he has done something wrong, and is afraid of being found out.”

“Very likely.”

“He’s just the fellow for us,” said Stockwell, in a low tone, after he had glanced around him, to see that no listeners were near. “He speaks the lingo of this country. We must buy him up.”

“Good!” exclaimed Boyden. “We ought not to have let him go till we had fixed his flint.”

“I didn’t think of it before; but there is time enough. If we can get hold of his story we can manage him without any trouble.”

“But he won’t tell his story. He wouldn’t even let on to the principal.”

“No matter; we must have him, somehow or other. Sanford can handle him.”

“I don’t exactly believe in the scrape,” said Burchmore, shaking his head dubiously. “We’ve heard all about the fellows that used to try to run away from the ship and from the Josephine. They always got caught, and always had the worst of it.”

“We are not going to run away, and we are not going to make ourselves liable to any punishment,” interposed Sanford, rather petulantly. “We can have a good time on shore without running away, or anything of that sort.”

“What’s the use?” replied Burchmore.

“The principal isn’t going to let us see anything at all of Norway. We are going to put in at Christiansand, and then go to Christiania. We want to see the interior of Norway, for there’s glorious fishing in the lakes and rivers—salmon as big as whales.”

“I like fishing as well as any fellow, but I don’t want to get into a scrape, and have to stay on board when the whole crowd go ashore afterwards. It won’t pay.”

“But I tell you again, we are not going to run away.”

“I don’t see how you can manage it without running away. You are going into the interior of Norway on your own hook, without the consent or knowledge of the principal. If you don’t call this running away, I don’t know what you can call it.”

“No matter what we call it, so long as the principal don’t call it running away,” argued Sanford.

“How can you manage it?” inquired Burchmore.

“I don’t know yet; and if I did, I wouldn’t tell a fellow who has so many doubts.”

“I shall not go into anything till I understand it.”

“We don’t ask you to do so. As soon as we come to anchor, and see the lay of the land, we can tell exactly what and how to do it. We have plenty of money, and we can have a first-rate time if you only think so. Leave it all to me, and I will bring it out right,” continued the confident Sanford, who appeared to be the leader of the little squad.

The traditions of the various runaways who had, at one time and another, attempted to escape from the wholesome discipline and restraint of the Academy, were current on board all the vessels of the squadron. The capture of the Josephine, and her cruise in the English Channel, had been repeated to every new student who joined the fleet, till the story was as familiar to the present students as to those of five years before. There were just as many wild and reckless boys on board now as in the earlier days of the institution, and they were as sorely chafed by the necessary restraints of good order as their predecessors had been. Perhaps it was natural that, visiting a foreign country, they should desire to see all they could of its wonders, and even to look upon some things which it was the policy of the principal to prevent them from seeing.

Whenever any of the various stories of the runaways were related, Sanford, Rodman, Stockwell, and others of similar tendencies, were always ready to point out the defects in the plan of the operators. They could tell precisely where Wilton, Pelham, and Little had been weak, as they termed it, and precisely what they should have done to render the enterprise a success. Still, running away, in the abstract, was not a popular idea in the squadron at the present time; but Sanford believed that he and his companions could enjoy all the benefits of an independent excursion without incurring any of its perils and penalties. Let him demonstrate his own proposition.

Ole Amundsen walked aft, and was kindly greeted by the officers on the quarter-deck, who commented freely upon his improved personal appearance, though they did it in more refined terms than their shipmates on the forecastle had done. Some of them tried to draw from him the explanation of his situation in the leaky boat, but without any better success than had attended the efforts of others. He yielded an extravagant deference to the gold lace on the uniforms of the officers, treating