Viking Boys Part 9

How it came about no one could ever tell, but a few minutes later Yaspard and Aunt Osla, coming in much trepidation to the parlour, found Fred and Mr. Adiesen in amicable conversation over the stones, while Signy stood between her uncle's knees, with his arm around her, and his fingers lovingly twined among her bright curls!

Aunt Osla was nervous and tearful, and would have made a scene, no doubt, but for Fred's admirable tact. He addressed her, as he had done the Laird, just as if they were ordinary acquaintances meeting in the most matter-of-fact, every-day kind of manner. Wrath and sentiment alike collapsed before such commonplace salutations, and both Mr.

Adiesen and his sister felt they would only make themselves ridiculous if they met young Garson's simple civility with any expression of deeper feelings.

So the conversation glided smoothly into the well-worn and useful channels of ordinary talk about the weather, and the crops, and the fis.h.i.+ng, and "the South," until Miss Adiesen was at her ease enough to say, "I hope your dear mother is well?"

"She is regaining strength and a degree of cheerfulness, thank you,"

said Fred; and then quite naturally, as if he knew he were talking on a subject interesting to his hearers, he went on to speak of the trial they had pa.s.sed through in the loss of his father; and when he had said just enough about that he quietly glided into Mr. Adiesen's favourite themes, surprising the old gentleman considerably by his knowledge of natural science and his intelligent appreciation of the scientist himself!

Yaspard sat near, a delighted listener, while Fred, using his utmost powers of fascination, talked Uncle Brus into good humour, and so paved the way to an amicable adjustment of some of the differences between the rival Lairds.

It was not till tea had been served, and the day was far spent, that Fred asked the loan of a boat, and his young friend Yaspard's crew, to take him back to Lunda. Permission was given, of course; and when our Viking-boy went off to get the _Osprey_ ready Signy went too, and Aunt Osla disappeared to indite a letter to her old friend, Fred's mother.

Thus the two men were left alone, which was exactly what Fred desired, and he was not long in taking advantage of an opportunity he had been devoutly desiring would come.

"What a fine lad that is!" he said, speaking of Yaspard. "He is quite the ideal Hialtlander!"

"He is rather too fond of romance and the like," answered the old man; but he smiled, for he was fond of his nephew, and liked to hear him praised.

"Yes, I think with you that there is an excess of romantic sentiment in his character; and that kind of thing is apt to become exaggerated into eccentricity or foolishness. I suppose he can't help it, living so much within himself, as it were."

"Possibly--that is--so!" Mr. Adiesen replied slowly.

"I hope," Fred resumed, and he smiled very pleasantly, "that this Viking fancy he has taken up may be of service to him in bringing him into contact with boys of his own age and rank. The young Mitch.e.l.ls are capital fellows, and _you_ know better than most folk what sort of companions he is likely to find in Dr. Holtum's family."

"The Doctor is a man in a thousand. He did me a service I am not likely to forget on this side the grave. I don't see him as often as--might be under different circ.u.mstances. But I respect him. Yes, young man, I respect Dr. Holtum!" And the frown which had gathered on the old man's brow at mention of the Mitch.e.l.ls cleared up more rapidly than Fred had dared to hope for.

"I don't know how we should get along without Dr. Holtum--we young ones, I mean," he remarked. "He enters so much into all our fun, and then he is so very clever too, a first-rate scientist. They have a 'menagerie,' as large and interesting as your own, at Collaster. And the twins--they are a little older than your lovely little niece, but she would find them companionable, for she is older than her years, I think. I suppose it will be with her as it is with Yaspard in some respects?"

"Signy is quite contented without girls' society, and she can never become either eccentric or foolish," Mr. Adiesen said hurriedly; but all the same he suddenly had a vision of his pet growing up to be peculiar, and an old maid perhaps resembling Aunt Osla, or some other of the many spinster ladies whose insular life had doomed them to that fate.

"My sister Isobel and I," said Fred, "always feel that we are more fortunate than the greater number of Lairds' families in having so many companions in our island. It has been desperately good for me, I know, to have such clever chaps as Eric Mitch.e.l.l and Svein Holtum for my chums."

"And your sister? Dr. Holtum's girls are younger?"

"Yes, and Isobel suffers in consequence. We all make a great fuss over Isobel, and she thinks a little too much of her own consequence. But still she has advantages--from the society of ladies, for instance--which your Signy cannot have."

The entrance of Signy herself put a stop to the conversation, but Fred was satisfied that he had sown good seed which would produce the right kind of fruit by-and-by. When he left Boden his heart was light within him. He took Mr. Adiesen's insolent note from his pocket and tore it to bits, scattering them on the sea, and saying within himself, "A soft answer turneth away wrath;" then to Yaspard he said, "Now, Sir Viking, for _your_ letter. You want the answer, don't you?"

CHAPTER XI.

"FAIR FELLOW DEEM I THE DARK-WINGED RAVEN."

Yaspard and Fred were alone in the boat. There was a pleasant breeze blowing fair, and Yaspard had preferred taking his pa.s.senger himself, leaving the Harrisons to entertain Gloy at Noostigard. Thus the conversation between the two could be as confidential as they pleased.

"I wonder," said Fred, "if you know that it was your letter that brought me to Boden?"

The Viking opened his eyes very wide. Evidently he knew nothing of the sort, and Fred laughed as he glanced over the sheet of paper which had come out of his pocket with that other letter.

"I don't believe you have the least idea _how_ good a letter it is. My mother cried over it, and Isobel declared the writer ought to be crowned king of every 'vik' in Shetland."

"Oh, come!" Yaspard exclaimed, blus.h.i.+ng hotly at his own praises so sung.

We will take the liberty of looking over Fred Garson's shoulder, and reading that epistle which had done so much good.

"DEAR MR. GARSON,--My uncle has directed that the enclosed letter shall be sent to you, so I must put it with this. It is none of _my_ business to judge him, and I am sure _you_ will not forget that he is an old man, and has been bred up with a lot of old-fangled fads, and lives a very solitary kind of life. I want you to know that I have begun a kind of game which I expect will give me a chance of meeting some of your Lunda fellows. I would take it as a great honour if you would keep an eye upon us in this matter, and umpire us when we get anyhow mixed about the rights of the game. I hope to find the Manse boys at Havnholme, and will tell them, so that they can explain to you.

I am going to pretend to be a Viking, and make raids. But I'd like _you_ to know something more about it than the mere play and nonsense.

"I just hate that horrid, miserable quarrel, which uncle speaks about as The Feud; it seems such a stupid, cruel sort of thing. Poor Aunt Osla cries about it, and my little sister and I are sometimes so unhappy over it that we vow we shall make an end of it when we are grown up. It is so awfully hard to think that there are so many boys and girls like us growing up in Lunda, and we can't know them because of the Feud. The truth is, I have not patience to wait till I am grown up. It will be too late then, for I shall have lost my boy-friends while I was a boy. Now, I hope you will understand that my Viking exploits have got a really good kind of idea at the bottom of them; so if you hear of fights, and forays, and the like, you will know that I am trying in that way to 'settle' this hideous old vampire of a fend.

It's the only way I could think of while Uncle Brus feels as he does.

"I know you are a right good fellow, as your father was, and you will help me. I do need a good fellow's help, and you can't think how my heart seems sometimes like to burst with longing to be with other boys and like other boys. People talk of your minister, how good he is; and of Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l, and that splendid boy Frank who died. And I hear of all _you_ do for the poor people, and about the Lady. Aunt Osla has a heap to tell about _her_. I think I would not be so selfish and so foolish as I am if I could talk to some of you Lunda folk, and _see_ how you live. But I must obey Uncle Brus, and I must not annoy him; so it's hard to see how I can clear up matters unless I go on the 'war-path,' and _you_ help me to manage our 'sham' so that it does not harm anybody. Trusting you, I am your honest admirer and hereditary foe,

"YASPARD ADIESEN.

"P.S.--Please, dear Mr. Garson, forgive Uncle Brus, and pray, as I do, that somebody may persuade him how silly and really sinful a feud can be."

"Yes, it's a prime letter," remarked Fred; "and nothing but that letter (particularly the postscript) would have made me pa.s.s over---- Bah!

what is the use of thinking more about it."

But even then his face flushed, and his naturally imperious temper rose, as he recalled the rude, angry words which Mr. Adiesen had written. There was a short silence, which Yaspard was the first to break, "You have made a lot of people happy to-day, Mr. Garson," he said very gratefully.

"I hope this is only the beginning of good times for us all," was the answer. "But now, I wonder what is going to be your next adventure?"

"I expect they'll grow one out of another. By the way, what shall we do about Gloy?"

"He isn't your prisoner now, but your guest, so you must let him return when he pleases. No doubt the Mitch.e.l.ls will have some plan in head for making capital out of Gloy's presence in Boden."

They chatted in the most friendly manner till they reached Lunda, when they parted with mutual regret and many a.s.surances that they should meet again at no very distant time.

The wind was even more favourable for the voyage back, and Yaspard's little boat went swiftly and easily along. He leaned back and let her go, while giving himself up to ecstatic dreams of adventure in which his new acquaintance played the important part. He had adopted Fred Garson for his hero, and was already setting him in the chief place in every airy castle of his imagination; but fancy's flight was interrupted by flight of another kind. As he lay back, gazing more into the air than on the course before him, his attention was drawn to a party of shooies (Arctic skuas) badgering a raven, who was greatly annoyed, and seemed at a sore disadvantage--a position which the lordly bird seldom allows himself to be in.

These shooies live chiefly by preying on other birds. They are winged parasites; they are very audacious, and fear no foe. Although they are not larger than a pigeon, they are not afraid to lay siege to an erne or a glaucus gull, and they will often do so as much for amus.e.m.e.nt as for gain.

"Mr. Corbie is in a fix," quoth Yaspard to himself, as he watched the swift, graceful evolutions of the shooies as they darted through the air buffeting and tormenting the unfortunate raven, whose harsh, fierce croak and futile efforts to escape were quite pitiful though amusing.

"If he doesn't gain land somehow he's done for, poor wretch: he is tired now, and can't keep on wing much longer; if he touches the water it's all up with him. Poor old corbie! they must have been after him a long time." Thus our Viking soliloquised, as his boat glided on until it was pa.s.sing below the aerial battlefield.

At that moment Sir Raven, uttering a loud and prolonged scream, shot downward and alighted on the thwart next Yaspard, too exhausted to do more than utter one faint croak, which might have been a parting anathema on the shooies, but which charity impels me to believe was an expression of thankfulness for such an ark of refuge as the boat of a Viking.

Yaspard leaned quickly forward, exclaiming, "Why, can it be? Yes, sure enough--Thor, old fellow, how came you to be in such a plight?"

Still gasping, but self-possessed, Thor hopped from the thwart on to Yaspard's arm, and then, turning up one side of his head, he leered at the shooies in such an expressive and ludicrous manner that the boy went into fits of laughter, even though one of the shooies swooped so near in its baffled anger as to touch his hair.

Thor snuggled up to his master, and began to smooth his ruffled plumes a bit, while Yaspard, tossing his hand about, so frightened the winged banditti that they flew away, and Thor was satisfied.