"The shaft indeed flew true."

"For thy brother's sake I owe thee something," the old man went
on; "I might give weighty reason, but I may not. For thine own I
wish to heal thee, and if I cannot cure this spell there is no man
who can.

"Wilt thou trust me with the story?" he added, a little dubiously.

"Ask not that of me," replied Estein. "Tell me what to do, and I
promise I shall follow the rede."

As if afraid that to ask further questions might weaken the force
of his words, Atli fell at once into his mystic manner again.

"For long I wrestled with the visions. The faces of the wizard and
the witch" (Estein's look darkened for an instant), "I could not
see, but at last, in the still night-time, there spoke a voice to
me, and I knew it came from the gods. For three nights it spoke.
On the fourth I sat out, and called to me from far beyond the
mountains and the lakes, even from beyond the grave, thy brother
Olaf. He too spoke to me, and every time the purport of the
message was the same."

"What said the voice?"

"A ship must cross the seas again."

The old man repeated the last words low and slowly, and then, for
a little, silence fell upon the pair. Vague and meagre though the