Marcus and leaped aboard his raft, whereupon Viggo's raft drifted
downward and vanished in a flash in the yellow torrent.

At that very instant Marcus's strength gave out; he relaxed his
grip on the branch, which slid out of his hand, and they would

inevitably have darted over the brink of the cataract if Viggo
had not, with great adroitness, snatched the rope from the branch

of the half-submerged tree.
A wild shout, half a cheer, half a cry of relief, went up from

the banks, as the raft with the three lads was slowly hauled
toward the shore by the lumbermen who had thrown the rope.

Halvor Reitan was the first to step ashore. But no joyous
welcome greeted him from those whose sympathies had, a little

while ago, been all on his side. He hung around uneasily for
some minutes, feeling perhaps that he ought to say something to

Viggo who had saved his life, but as he could not think of
anything which did not seem foolish, he skulked away unnoticed

toward the edge of the forest.
But when Viggo stepped ashore, carrying the unconscious Marcus in

his arms, how the crowd rushed forward to gaze at him, to press
his hands, to call down God's blessing upon him! He had never

imagined that he was such a hero. It was Marcus, not he, to whom
their ovation was due. But poor Marcus--it was well for him that

he had fainted from over-exertion; for otherwise he would have
fainted from embarrassment at the honors which would have been

showered upon him.
The West-Siders, marching two abreast, with their bows slung

across their shoulders, escorted their general home, cheering and
shouting as they went. When they were half-way up the hillside,

Marcus opened his eyes, and finding himself so close to his
beloved general, blushed crimson, scarlet, and purple, and all

the other shades that an embarrassed blush is capable of
assuming.

"Please, General," he stammered, "don't bother about me."
Viggo had thought of making a speech exalting the heroism of his

faithful follower. But he saw at a glance that his praise would
be more grateful to Marcus, if he received it in private.

When, however, the boys gave him a parting cheer, in front of his
father's mansion, he forgot his resolution, leaped up on the

steps, and lifting the blushing Marcus above his head; called
out:

"Three cheers for the bravest boy in Norway!"
BICEPS GRIMLUND'S CHRISTMAS VACATION

I.
The great question which Albert Grimlund was debating was fraught

with unpleasant possibilities. He could not go home for the
Christmas vacation, for his father lived in Drontheim, which is

so far away from Christiania that it was scarcely worth while
making the journey for a mere two-weeks' holiday. Then, on the

other hand, he had an old great-aunt who lived but a few miles
from the city. She had, from conscientious motives, he feared,

sent him an invitation to pass Christmas with her. But Albert
had a poor opinion of Aunt Elsbeth. He thought her a very

tedious person. She had a dozen cats, talked of nothing but
sermons and lessons, and asked him occasionally, with pleasant

humor, whether he got many whippings at school. She failed to
comprehend that a boy could not amuse himself forever by looking

at the pictures in the old family Bible, holding yarn, and
listening to oft-repeated stories, which he knew by heart,

concerning the doings and sayings of his grandfather. Aunt
Elsbeth, after a previous experience with her nephew, had come to

regard boys as rather a reprehensible kind of animal, who
differed in many of their ways from girls, and altogether to the

boys' disadvantage.
Now, the prospect of being "caged" for two weeks with this

estimable lady was, as I said, not at all pleasant to Albert. He
was sixteen years old, loved out-door sports, and had no taste

for cats. His chief pride was his muscle, and no boy ever made
his acquaintance without being invited to feel the size and

hardness of his biceps. This was a standing joke in the Latin
school, and Albert was generally known among his companions as

"Biceps" Grimlund. He was not very tall for his age, but
broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with something in his glance,

his gait, and his manners which showed that he had been born and
bred near the sea. He cultivated a weather-beaten complexion,

and was particularly proud when the skin "peeled" on his nose,
which it usually did in the summer-time, during his visits to his

home in the extreme north. Like most blond people, when
sunburnt, he was red, not brown; and this became a source of

great satisfaction when he learned that Lord Nelson had the same
peculiarity. Albert's favorite books were the sea romances of

Captain Marryat, whose "Peter Simple" and "Midshipman Easy" he
held to be the noblest products of human genius. It was a bitter

disappointment to him that his father forbade his going to sea
and was educating him to be a "landlubber," which he had been

taught by his boy associates to regard as the most contemptible
thing on earth.

Two days before Christmas, Biceps Grimlund was sitting in his
room, looking gloomily out of the window. He wished to postpone

as long as possible his departure for Aunt Elsbeth's
country-place, for he foresaw that both he and she were doomed to

a surfeit of each other's company during the coming fortnight.
At last he heaved a deep sigh and languidly began to pack his

trunk. He had just disposed the dear Marryat books on top of his
starched shirts, when he heard rapid footsteps on the stairs, and

the next moment the door burst open, and his classmate, Ralph
Hoyer, rushed breathlessly" target="_blank" title="ad.气喘吁吁地">breathlessly into the room.

"Biceps," he cried, "look at this! Here is a letter from my
father, and he tells me to invite one of my classmates to come

home with me for the vacation. Will you come? Oh, we shall have
grand times, I tell you! No end of fun!"

Albert, instead of answering, jumped up and danced a jig on the
floor, upsetting two chairs and breaking the wash-pitcher.

"Hurrah!" he cried, "I'm your man. Shake hands on it, Ralph!
You have saved me from two weeks of cats and yarn and moping!

Give us your paw! I never was so glad to see anybody in all my
life."

And to prove it, he seized Ralph by the shoulders, gave him a
vigorous whirl and forced him to join in the dance.

"Now, stop your nonsense," Ralph protested, laughing; "if you
have so much strength to waste, wait till we are at home in

Solheim, and you'll have a chance to use it profitably."
Albert flung himself down on his old rep-covered sofa. It seemed

to have some internaldisorder, for its springs rattled and a
vague musical twang indicated that something or other had

snapped. It had seen much maltreatment, that poor old piece of
furniture, and bore visible marks of it. When, after various

exhibitions of joy, their boisterous delight had quieted down,
both boys began to discuss their plans for the vacation.

"But I fear my groom may freeze, down there in the street," Ralph
ejaculated, cutting short the discussion; "it is bitter cold, and

he can't leave the horses. Hurry up, now, old man, and I'll help
you pack."

It did not take them long to complete the packing. Albert sent a
telegram to his father, asking permission to accept Ralph's

invitation; but, knowing well that the reply would be favorable,
did not think it necessary to wait for it. With the assistance

of his friend he now wrapped himself in two overcoats, pulled a
pair of thick woollen stockings over the outside of his boots and

a pair of fur-lined top-boots outside of these, girded himself
with three long scarfs, and pulled his brown otter-skin cap down