Rising storm-lashed o’er the ocean
With their thousand homes.”
“‘Storm-lashed’ is right,” thought Arne. But he loved the fine old anthem, just as the others did, and joined in the singing with all his heart.
“I think those songs all but lifted the roof,” said Froken Utvig, smiling. “But now, as it is still snowy and drifting, and the wind is strong, we had better start home.”
Everyone hurried about—putting out the fire, getting things in order. Arne was as busy as anyone, but he couldn’t help thinking about the Stjerne. What if she was tossing about out there, very close to the rocky shore, driven by the wind? What if Gustav should be almost in port, only to have his ship go down tonight?
His face was troubled as he bent to fasten his skis, but he looked up quickly as Herr Professor came over to him and said, “Arne, I want you to help me with some of these greens. Can you carry a load as big as this, do you think? We’ll fasten it on your back if you can.”
Ordinarily Arne would have been proud of such a request, for the load was a large one. But tonight he had planned to rush ahead with all speed and see if it could be possible that his brother’s ship had come in. He couldn’t make much time with such a load. But he could do nothing but answer, “Yes, sir, I can.”
“Good boy,” said Herr Engstrand. “Now, Arne, I want you to stay behind with me just a little. I have one or two things to do.”
“Yes, sir,” said Arne, but his disappointment showed so plainly that Herr Professor said, “What is it, boy?”
“It’s my brother’s ship, sir,” said Arne, in a low tone. “I thought she might have come in. I wanted to—”