On and on they went, straight into the sunset. The rowers sang as they worked. Gavin tried to read his book, but Chrif looked eagerly ahead. How he longed to see the new country to which they were going!
And very soon the New Land came in sight. Then a party landed; Chrif, Gavin, and a boy named Andy were among them.
They walked some distance and then night darkened down around them. The mountains looked cruel; the fields barren. "Let us return to the ship," said many.
But Chrif would not turn back. "I must find the pot of gold," he said, "it cannot now be far away." And Gavin and Andy went with him.
"I should like to dip my fingers into your pot of gold," said Andy.
"You shall have your share," said Chrif. "It is on the top of a pillar not far from the coast. If you'll stand below, I'll get on your shoulders, and then perhaps I can reach it."
"Only don't let it drop on my head," said Andy, with a laugh.
They walked along the shore in silence. After a time Chrif cried out with joy, "Here is a path leading into the woods. And I do believe I see the pillar!"
"Hurrah!" cried Andy, "let's push on!"
And now the three stood at the foot of the pillar and looked up to the top. By the faint light of the moon they saw the pot of gold.