Oddo was now quite satisfied; and he told of the boat and his grandfather. The boat was scarcely farther off than the cave, and poor Rolf was almost in extremity for drink. The water and brandy he brought with him had been finished nearly two days, and he was suffering extremely from thirst. He thought he could reach the boat and Oddo led the way, bidding him not mind his being without clothes till they could find him some.
Glad was the old man to hear his boy's call from the water; and his face lighted up with wonder and pleasure when he heard that Rolf was not far behind. He lent a hand to help him into the boat, and asked no questions till he had given him food and drink. He reproached himself for having brought neither camphor nor assafoetida, to administer with the corn-brandy. Here was the brandy, however, and some water, and fish, and bread, and cloud-berries. Great was the amazement of Peder and Oddo at Rolf's pushing aside the brandy, and seizing the water. When he had drained the last drop, he even preferred the cloud-berries to the brandy. A transient doubt thence occurred, whether this was Rolf after all. Rolf saw it in their faces, and laughed; and when they had heard his story of what he had suffered from thirst, they were quite satisfied, and wondered no longer.
He was all impatience to be gone. It tried him more now to think how long it would be before Erica could hear of his preservation than to bear all that had gone before. Being without clothes, however, it was necessary to visit the cave, and bring away what was there. In truth, Oddo was not sorry for this. His curiosity about the cave was so great that he felt it impossible to go home without seeing it; and the advantage of holding the secret knowledge of such a place was one which he would not give up. He seized an oar, gave another to Rolf; and they were presently off the mouth of the cave. Peder sighed at their having to leave him again; but he believed what Rolf said of there being no danger, and of their remaining close at hand. One or the other came popping up beside the boat every minute, with clothes, or net, or lines, or brandy-flask, and finally with the oars of the poor broken skiff, being obliged to leave the skiff itself behind. Rolf did not forget to bring away whole handfuls of beautiful shells, which he had amused himself with collecting for Erica.
At last they entered the boat again; and while they were dressing, Oddo charmed his grandfather with a description of the cave—of the dark, sounding walls, the lofty roof, and the green tide breaking on the white sands. It almost made the listener cool to hear of these things; but, as Oddo had remarked, the heat had abated. It was near midnight, and the sun was going to set. Their row to the shore would be in the cool twilight; and then they should take in companions, who, fresh from rest, would save them the trouble of rowing home.
When all were too tired to talk, and the oars were dipping somewhat lazily, and the breeze had died away, and the sea-birds were quiet, old Peder, who appeared to his companions to be asleep, raised his head, and said—
"I heard a sob. Are you crying, Oddo?"
"Yes, grandfather."
"What is your grief, my boy?"
"No grief, anything but grief now. I have felt more grief than you know of, though, or anybody. I did not know it fully myself till now."
"Right, my boy; and right to say it out too."