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 the young men had passed over into the Norsemen’s ship, the old man and the little maid prepared to follow them. Ulf pushed them roughly back, and turned to King Olaf.

“Thou hast no need for such thralls as these. The man is old and the girl but a care.”

But there was no suggestion of age in the swift spring that brought the old man and the clinging girl to the deck of the “Alruna.” They fell at the feet of the king. Thorgills, at the words of Ulf, had rushed to the side of Olaf. The scald had drawn his sword, and the flash of his eye was far other than the mild light of the poet’s inspiration.

“My King! my King!” he cried. “Hear not yon dog of a Dane. He would keep the little maid, but thou, by the love thou hast for the Christ, and for thy reverence for His Mother Mary, let not the pirate have his will.”

Olaf turned to the kneeling captives, and then in his bewilderment to Thorgills. “Did I not pledge for all the captives?”

“And so didst thou, my King, but yon pirate hound, Ulf, would keep the old man and the maid.”