Ere joyous morning come again,
And bid the gloom retire.”
“I wish I could take you up to our day look-out place,” said the Captain; “we should have a good view of the watch-fires from it now. I stood there for an hour together on the first night, looking at the fires of the hållet; and by this time the dref must have come quite near enough for us to see them too.”
“Well,” said Birger, “come along! I think I know the way,—it is the path I came down by this morning, is it not?”
“Yes it is, but it will never do on a dark night like this; it is not over-safe by day, and there are shreds of the mist hanging about us still. We want light for that path.”
“And light you shall have,” said Birger. “Here, Tom, split me this fir-root, it is as full of turpentine as it can hold. There,” continued he, thrusting the end of one of the slips into the blaze, and striking up the song of the Dalecarlian miners:—
“‘Brother, kindle thy bright light,
For here below ’tis dark as night;
Gloomy may be on earth thy way,
But light and good shall make it day.’