CHAPTER XXXII.
"HAIL FROM THE MAIN THEN COMEST THOU HOME."
Garth Halsen and his father were strolling over the hill that day. The old Yarl of Broch was always restless during a storm, and never cared to sit in the house when the elements were at war, "for there is sorrow on the sea," he would say at such times; "and I cannot rest when I think some poor souls are fighting for life on the water." As the father and son walked on they saw Pirate, and he saw them, and made at once for them, whining in the most distressful manner.
"What dog is that? Why, I've——"
"It's Yaspard's dog," Garth exclaimed; "and he wants us to go with him. Something has happened, I fear."
They hurried in the direction which Pirate so intelligently indicated, and he soon led them to where our Viking-boy lay.
By that time Yaspard had revived a little, and was sitting up looking around in a dazed state, but the cheery voice of old Halsen soon restored his wits, and he could give an account of what had happened.
"No time to lose, lads," said the Yarl, with all the fire of strong manhood eager to help the forlorn and weak. "We'll carry you over the hill between us, boy, and get out the boats."
They swung Yaspard up on their arms and went over the hill at a good pace, considering the Yarl's age, until they reached a cottage fortunately not far distant. There our hero was left in the care of kindly women, while Mr. Halsen and Garth hastened to the nearest fishing-station and gathered a stout crew.
When Yaspard was reviving under the influence of warm food and a cozy bed, a sixaern with Mr. Halsen as skipper was speeding round the North Ness, and appeared before the longing eyes on Swarta Stack like an angel of deliverance.