Ere long he found a small hollow in a sand-bank which was perfectly dry and thickly overhung with shrubs. Into this he crept and carefully laid down his slumbering charge. Then, going out, he collected a large quantity of leaves. With these he made a couch, on which he laid Snorro and covered him well over. Lying down beside him he drew as close to the child as he could; placed his little head on his breast to keep it warm; laid his own curly pate on a piece of turf, and almost instantly fell into a profound slumber.
The sun was up and the birds were singing long before that slumber was broken. When at last Olaf and his little charge awoke, they yawned several times and stretched themselves vigorously; opened their eyes with difficulty, and began to look round with some half-formed notions as to breakfast. Olaf was first to observe that the roof above him was a confused mass of earth and roots, instead of the customary plank ceiling and cross-beams of home.
“Where am I?” he murmured lazily, yet with a look of sleepy curiosity.
He was evidently puzzled, and there is no saying how long he might have lain in that condition had not a very small contented voice close beside him replied:
“You’s here, O’af; an’ so’s me.”
Olaf raised himself quickly on his elbow, and, looking down, observed Snorro’s large eyes gazing from out a forest of leaves in quiet satisfaction.
“Isn’t it nice?” continued Snorro.
“Nice!” exclaimed Olaf in a voice of despair, when the whole truth in regard to their lost condition was thus brought suddenly to his mind. “Nice! No, Snorrie, my little man, it isn’t nice. It’s dread-ful! It’s awful! It’s—but come, I must not give way like a big baby as I did yesterday. We are lost, Snorrie, lost in the woods.”
“Lost! What’s lost?” asked Snorro, sitting up and gazing into his friend’s face with an anxious expression—not, of course, in consequence of being lost, which he did not understand, but because of Olaf’s woeful countenance.
“Oh! you can’t understand it, Snorrie; and, after all, I’m a stupid fellow to alarm you, for that can do no good. Come, my mannie, you and I are going to wander about in the woods to-day a great long way, and try to get home; so, let me shake the leaves off you. There now, we shall start.”