CHAPTER XI.
"FAIR FELLOW DEEM I THE DARK-WINGED RAVEN."
Yaspard and Fred were alone in the boat. There was a pleasant breeze blowing fair, and Yaspard had preferred taking his passenger himself, leaving the Harrisons to entertain Gloy at Noostigard. Thus the conversation between the two could be as confidential as they pleased.
"I wonder," said Fred, "if you know that it was your letter that brought me to Boden?"
The Viking opened his eyes very wide. Evidently he knew nothing of the sort, and Fred laughed as he glanced over the sheet of paper which had come out of his pocket with that other letter.
"I don't believe you have the least idea how good a letter it is. My mother cried over it, and Isobel declared the writer ought to be crowned king of every 'vik' in Shetland."
"Oh, come!" Yaspard exclaimed, blushing hotly at his own praises so sung.
We will take the liberty of looking over Fred Garson's shoulder, and reading that epistle which had done so much good.
"DEAR MR. GARSON,—My uncle has directed that the enclosed letter shall be sent to you, so I must put it with this. It is none of my business to judge him, and I am sure you will not forget that he is an old man, and has been bred up with a lot of old-fangled fads, and lives a very solitary kind of life. I want you to know that I have begun a kind of game which I expect will give me a chance of meeting some of your Lunda fellows. I would take it as a great honour if you would keep an eye upon us in this matter, and umpire us when we get anyhow mixed about the rights of the game. I hope to find the Manse boys at Havnholme, and will tell them, so that they can explain to you. I am going to pretend to be a Viking, and make raids. But I'd like you to know something more about it than the mere play and nonsense.