bay, and had wife and children to provide for, he was a happy bachelor of sixty, and his boat was wife and house and home to him.

It is true that the Sea-Flower lay unrigged high up on the beach half the year, but even then Jacob lived on board, in the poop-cabin, and while the others toiled at the herringfisheries in the summer and autumn, he led an easy life from the end of one winter's fishing to the beginning of the next. And it is wonderful how quickly the days pass when you have learned how to sleep at any hour of the twentyfour. When smoke was seen rising from the stove-pipe through the roof of the poop-cabin, you knew that Jacob was awake, and if you wanted a dram, you had only to climb on board. He no longer had any relatives in the district, but when he set out to sea, he always waved his sou'wester vigorously, although there was no one on shore to say good-by to him and wish him a prosperous voyage; and in the spring he joined the others and sailed the hundreds of miles southward again, although no one among the many standing on the beach was there to welcome him home. But what did that matter? They got on well here, both the Sea-Flower and Jacob; and to-day he came limping along in the sunshine with his wheelbarrow and was not even drunk.

Over the sunlit surface of the sea the wind was flinging patches of ruffled blue. All round the bay between the two headlands stood gray boatboathouses, and out of the back of two or three of these stuck the pitch-brown fore part of a Lofoten boat, as if to watch for the coming of the season when it would go out and be rigged again. The Sea-Flower, however,

lay alone on the beach, with no boathouse to cover her, as homeless as Jacob himself, her long hull with a white stripe along the sheer-strake, and the black stem and stern standing proudly erect. Herring-nets hung drying beside the boat-houses, for there may be a herring or two to be caught by those who have the mind and the patience to catch them; but Jacob with his wheelbarrow held such fishing in contempt.

Suddenly the noise of the wheel ceased. Jacob had stopped, and was gazing out over the bay. A boat was sailing up past the southern headland. She was certainly no herring-boat, nor yet a ten-oared nor a four-oared boat; neither was she a cargo-boat. Why, damn it all! if she was n't a Lofoten boat! Such an object on the sea at this season of the year was like lightning in a cloudless sky. It was incredible, and yet there she was, and had a six-oared boat without a sail in tow as well. Jacob put down the wheelbarrow, and stood staring, without even noticing that there was some one behind him who was also standing staring. It was Elezeus Hylla, a broad-shouldered, brownbearded man with prominent cheekbones; and he stared so intently that a row of white teeth became visible from sheer wonderment.

"Can you understand that?" he said, burying his hands deep in his trousers-pockets. His blouse was of white sail-cloth, and his homespun trousers hung down over his boots just as Jacob's did.

The old man turned his head, removed his quid from his mouth to his waistcoat-pocket, and expectorated.

"No," he said. "Can you?"
"It must be a stranger."

I know the six-oared boat."

The windows in the cottages had become full of faces, and a few people came out in order to get a better view. On the Myran land two fair-haired boys were taking up potatoes. They were Lars and his brother Oluf, and both stood leaning on their forks and gazing.

to put up their eye-glasses in order to have a better look at him; but a fisherman with a wife and six children has other things to think about than being handsome.

The purchase of the boat had come about in a strange manner. He was fishing the fiords for herring in his six-oared boat with Kaneles Gomon,

"You'll just stay where you are," said Lars, for he was sixteen, and the other only fourteen, and what would the world be like if the younger brother were not to obey the elder?

The brothers were very dissimilar in appearance, Lars being bow-legged and round-shouldered, and with a quick temper, while Oluf was big and broad, and had his mother's short upper lip, so that his mouth was always

open.

"He's coming in to our boathouse!" cried Oluf, dropping his fork and setting off at a run. The next moment his brother ran past him. "It 's father!" he shouted. "You'll see, he 's bought a Lofoten boat!"

It was Kristàver Myran, and this was a great day for him. For many years he had secretly longed for it, and at last it had come, and he stood there, the head-man on his own Lofoten boat. It was altogether incredible, but the tiller that he swung backward and forward over his head was his; the hull, rigging, grapnel, and ropes, everything on board, belonged to him.

The sturdy fisherman was still in the prime of life, his red, close-clipped beard and whiskers surrounded a strong face, and the hair beneath the black sou'wester was fair and curly. It was not unusual, when he walked

at which he had heard a large boat was to be sold. He had no thought of any purchase, but there were crowds of people on the beach, and the auctioneer was shouting, but not a soul attempted to bid. And there lay the boat. Kristàver began to walk round her. He thought he ought to be able to judge of the capabilities of such a boat, and she was apparently as good as new, well built, with extra-fine lines-a regular sea-plow to cleave the billows and forge ahead with. What could it be that kept people from bidding for such a fine boat?

It happened that there was a man there who could not hold his tongue, and he let out the fact that the boat had capsized three winters in succession on the Lofoten Sea, and now had the reputation of being a regular coffin, in which no one would sign on. She was, moreover, a slow sailer, and dropped behind the others in the voyages north and south, so that no headman with any self-respect would think of bidding for such a tub.

At this Kristàver took courage and bid a mere nothing; and he turned cold for a moment when the boat was knocked down to him, and he, a poor man, stood there the sole owner of a Lofoten boat.

"Do you want to kill yourself?" said one man, with a smile; and every

A head-man from a coast-district cannot resist the temptation to tease the dwellers in the inland fiord-districts, who like to think themselves seamen; so he answered that the boat was good enough, but that much depended upon the fellows that were on board her. Whereupon the men began to close in upon him and ask him what he meant by that.

A spirit of mischief impelled him to reply that the boat was far too good for such "inlanders," who were good enough to dig potatoes up out of the ground, but would never make seamen.

"I'll show you that I can make her go,” he added; "aye, and make her stand up, too."

But if he had not taken his departure then, it is probable that blows would have been exchanged. Now he was coming home.

He had been a head-man for many years, so that was not what made the difference; but he had been only partowner in the boat, and what is the good of a successful fishing-season once in a way, when the proceeds have to be divided between six men? Kristàver had sons who were growing up, and his head was full of plans; and if the day ever came when he could man his own boat from his own household, a single good fishing-year might make him a wealthy man. He owed for the boat, it is true, and would have to go still deeper into debt if he alone had to equip six men for a winter's fishing. It was foolhardy, but he had taken the plunge, and what was done could not be undone.

"Lower away!" he shouted to he shouted to Kaneles, who was standing forward,

gether, and glided down, followed by the mainsail. The grapnel clanked over the side, and the big boat swung round to the hawser, and lay along the wind.

The beach was black with people, and when the six-oared boat had also been moored, and the skiff came shoreward, but was still at some distance, it was Lars who shouted:

"Who does the Lofoten boat belong to, Father?”

Kristàver made no answer. His face was all smiles when he stepped ashore, and two of his younger children seized each a hand; and he stooped down and talked to them, although every one all round him was trying to speak to him. Then he went slowly up the beach with the children, nodding affirmatively in all directions. Yes, the boat was his.

Jacob alone held aloof, and would not condescend to be curious. He looked grim, and tried to find out whether that boat was a thing to go to sea with.

"We 'll be able to race one another now," said Kristàver as he passed him.

Down through the field a woman was coming toward him with hesitating steps, carrying a baby on her arm. It was Marya.

"Welcome home!" she said, with and attempt at a smile; but the eyes in the pale face had a frightened look.

Kristàver walked slowly beside her, only asking if everything was going on all right. He thought there was no one like her, and that she had a perfect right to her own thoughts and opinions.

Two boys had already rowed out to the Lofoten boat, and they were Lars and Oluf.

Kaneles Gomon, who had been with Kristàver on this herring-fishing expedition, was a bachelor of thirty. He was little and pale, and had it not been for his fair mustache, would have been taken for a mere boy. He was now walking up from the shore into the mountains, singing as he went, swaying from side to side, and carrying his chest on his shoulder. His home was on a little mountain farm, where there lived only his half-blind father of seventy and a little sister who was not not yet confirmed. If only he had been able to cultivate the land at home, he might have made a large farm of it; but that needed a little money, and if he did not earn that on the sea, he would like to know where it was to come from? He was unsuccessful, however, year after year; so there was nothing but toil when he was away, and poverty at home. But still Kaneles sang. The priest never failed to put him down as father in every case of doubtful paternity in the parish, and though it might be amusing for the priest, it became by degrees a heavy tax on Kaneles. But still he was as happy as a king, and was always singing the gayest of songs.

There was much talk in the cottage at Myran all that evening, first about the boat and father, and then about father and the boat. Even the little ten-year-old Tosten had been on board, and he determined that his own little boat, which was as large as a wooden shoe, should be called the Seal after the big boat. Lars had extracted from his father the promise that next winter he should at last be allowed to go with him, and this caused him to assume a still more authoritative manner toward Oluf, for now he was almost a Lofoten fisherman.

There was not much sleep for any one in the little cottage that night. There was only one person who had not yet said anything, and that was Màrya, and she lay awake beside Kristàver, but pretended to be asleep. He himself was thinking of the guarantors he would have to find for his bank loan, and of all that he must try to obtain on credit from the tradesmen here and in town. To fit out six men is no small matter, and if then it was a "black" year with the fishing, it would be pretty well the ruin of him and his.

And, then, about the Seal. The thought that he had acted like a fool kept flitting through his mind. If the boat had capsized with others, why should he be better able to keep her right way up? Was not that merely a boast? And would he dare to take his eldest boy with him in such a venture?

He smiled at this, however. Boats are like horses and women: they have their whims and caprices, and the question is whether you are man enough to overcome them. There was nothing wrong with the boat, nothing, at any rate, that could not be put right. And he repeated, "I'll show you that I can make her go; aye, and make her stand up, too."

But what would Màrya have said if she knew?

Lars slept in the attic with Oluf, and lay thinking until he fell asleep, and then dreamed until he started up wide-awake again. Oluf slept on undisturbed, for he knew no better; but it was not easy to be Lars. He felt drawn in many different directions. At school he had been a regular clipper, and it was jolly to learn things; there was no doubt about that. Both