"And what would it avail if we were to escape?" asked Olaf. "Boys as we are, we should be of little use in the world, I think."
"You are afraid!" cried Thorgils.
"Yes," echoed Egbert, "you are afraid." Then turning to Thorgils, he added: "But why should we urge the lad against his will? He is but a child, and would only be a burden to us. Let us leave him and go our ways without him."
"You are not of our folk, Egbert," returned Thorgils, flinging himself down upon the dry leaves, "and you do not know what the vow of foster brotherhood means. You ask me to do that which I would sooner die than do. Ole and I will never part until death parts us. And if either should be slain, then the other will avenge his death. If Ole wills to remain in slavery until he is old and gray, then I will always be his companion in bondage. But to escape without him, that will I never do!"
Nothing more was said. The three boys, weary after their long journey, curled themselves up to sleep.
So soundly did young Olaf sleep, that at midnight, when a man's hands unbound the chain about his neck he was not awakened. Very cautiously the man took him up in his strong arms, and carried him away among the dark shadows of the trees to a part of the forest far removed from the campfires. And at last he laid the lad down on a bed of dry reeds and moss at the side of the stream, where the bright moon, shining through an open glade, shed its light upon his fair round face and his short gold hair. There the man stood over him, watching him as he dreamed his childish dreams. Then he knelt down and gently drew aside the lad's cloak and opened the front of his kirtle, so that the moonlight fell upon the white skin of his throat and breast.
Suddenly Olaf awoke and saw the dark figure bending over him.
"Thorgils, Thorgils!" he cried in alarm.
"Be silent!" commanded Sigurd Erikson, gripping the boy's arm. "No harm will come to you."
Olaf struggled to his feet and was about to take to flight, but his master's firm grip held him.