besides wolves and foxes and no end of smaller game.

For an hour or more the procession rode, single file, up the
steep and rugged mountain-paths; but the boys were all in high

spirits and enjoyed themselves hugely. The mere fact that they
were Vikings, on a daring foraging expedition into a neighboring

kingdom, imparted a wonderful zest to everything they did and
said. It might be foolish, but it was on that account none the

less delightful. They sent out scouts to watch for the approach
of an imaginary enemy; they had secret pass-words and signs; they

swore (Viking style) by Thor's hammer and by Odin's eye. They
talked appallingnonsense to each other with a delicious

sentiment of its awful blood-curdling character. It was about
noon when they reached the Strandholm saeter, which consisted of

three turf-thatched log-cabins or chalets, surrounded by a green
inclosure of half a dozen acres. The wide highland plain, eight

or ten miles long, was bounded on the north and west by throngs
of snow-hooded mountain peaks, which rose, one behind another, in

glittering grandeur; and in the middle of the plain there were
two lakes or tarns, connected by a river which was milky white

where it entered the lakes and clear as crystal where it escaped.
"Now, Vikings," cried Wolf-in-the-Temple, when the boys had done

justice to their dinner, "it behooves us to do valiant deeds, and
to prove ourselves worthy of our fathers."

"Hear, hear," shouted Ironbeard, who was fourteen years old and
had a shadow of a moustache, "I am in for great deeds, hip, hip,

hurrah!"
"Hold your tongue when you hear me speak," commanded the

chieftain, loftily; "we will lie in wait at the ford, between the
two tarns, and capture the travellers who pass that way. If

perchance a princess from the neighboring kingdom pass, on the
way to her dominions, we will hold her captive until her father,

the king, comes to ransom her with heaps of gold in rings and
fine garments and precious weapons."

"But what are we to do with her when we have caught her?" asked
the Skull-Splitter, innocently.

"We will keep her imprisoned in the empty saeter hut,"
Wolf-in-the-Temple responded. "Now, are you ready? We'll leave

the horses here on the croft, until our return."
The question now was to elude Brumle-Knute's vigilance; for the

Sons of the Vikings had good reasons for fearing that he might
interfere with their enterprise. They therefore waited until

Brumle-knute was invited by the dairymaid to sit down to dinner.
No sooner had the door closed upon his stooping figure, than they

stole out through a hole in the fence, crept on all-fours among
the tangled dwarf-birches and the big gray boulders, and

following close in the track of their leader, reached the ford
between the lakes. There they observed two enormous heaps of

stones known as the Parson and the Deacon; for it had been the
custom from immemorial times for every traveller to fling a big

stone as a "sacrifice" for good luck upon the Parson's heap and a
small stone upon the Deacon's. Behind these piles of stone the

boys hid themselves, keeping a watchful eye on the road and
waiting for their chief's signal to pounce upon unwary

travellers. They lay for about fifteen minutes in expectant
silence, and were on the point of losing their patience.

"Look here, Wolf-in-the-Temple," cried Erling the Lop-Sided, "you
may think this is fun, but I don't. Let us take the raft there

and go fishing. The tarn is simply crowded with perch and bass."
"Hold your disrespectful tongue," whispered the chief, warningly,

"or I'll discipline you so you'll remember it till your dying
day."

"Ho, ho!" laughed the rebel, jeeringly; "big words and fat pork
don't stick in the throat. Wait till I get you alone and we

shall see who'll be disciplined."
Erling had risen and was about to emerge from his hiding-place,

when suddenly hoof-beats were heard, and a horse was seen
approaching, carrying on its back a stalwart peasant lass, in

whose lap a pretty little girl of twelve or thirteen was sitting.
The former was clad in scarlet bodice, a black embroidered skirt,

and a snowy-white kerchief was tied about her head. Her blonde
hair hung in golden profusion down over her back and shoulders.

The little girl was city-clad, and had a sweet and appealing
face. She was chattering guilelessly with her companion, asking

more questions than she could possibly expect to have answered.
Nearer and nearer they came to the great stone heaps, dreaming of

no harm.
"And, Gunbjor," the Skull-Splitter heard the little girl say,

"you don't really believe that there are trolds and fairies in
the mountains, do you?"

"Them as are wiser than I am have believed that," was Gunbjor's
answer; "but we don't hear so much about the trolds nowadays as

they did when my granny was young. Then they took young girls
into the mountain and----"

Here came a wild, piercing yell, as the Sons of the Vikings
rushed forward from behind the rocks, and with a terrible

war-whoop swooped down upon the road. Wolf-in-the-Temple, who
led the band, seized the horse by the bridle, and flourishing his

sword threateningly, addressed the frightened peasant lass.
"Is this, perchance, the Princess Kunigunde, the heir to the

throne of my good friend, King Bjorn the Victorious?" he asked,
with a magnificent air, seizing the trembling little girl by the

wrist.
"Nay," Gunbjor answered, as soon as she could find her voice,

"this is the Deacon's Maggie, as is going to the saeter with me
to spend Sunday."

"She cannot proceed on her way," said the chieftain, decisively,
"she is my prisoner."

Gunbjor, who had been frightened out of her wits by the small
red- and blue-cloaked men, swarming among the stones, taking them

to be trolds or fairies, now gradually recovered her senses. She
recognized in Erling the Lop-Sided the well-known features of the

parson's son; and as soon as she had made this discovery she had
no great difficulty in identifying the rest. "Never you fear,

pet," she said to the child in her lap, "these be bad boys as
want to frighten us. I'll give them a switching if they don't

look out."
"The Princess Kunigunde is my prisoner until it please her noble

father to ransom her for ten pounds of silver," repeated
Wolf-in-the-Temple, putting his arm about little Maggie's waist

and trying to lift her from the saddle.
"You keep yer hands off the child, or I'll give you ten pounds of

thrashing," cried Gunbjor, angrily.
"She shall be treated with the respect due to her rank,"

Wolf-in-the-Temple proceeded, loftily. "I give King Bjorn the
Victorious three moons in which to bring me the ransom."

"And I'll give you three boxes on the ear, and a cut with my
whip, into the bargain, if you don't let the horse alone, and

take yer hands off the child."
"Vikings!" cried the chief, "lay hands on her! Tear her from the

saddle! She has defied us! She deserves no mercy."
With a tremendous yell the boys rushed forward, brandishing their

swords above their heads, and pulled Gunbjor from the saddle.
But she held on to her charge with a vigorousclutch, and as soon

as her feet touched the ground she began with her disengaged hand
to lay about her, with her whip, in a way that proved extremely

unpleasant. Wolf-in-the-Temple, against whom her assault was
especially directed, received some bad cuts across his face, and

Ironbeard was drivenbackward into the ford, where he fell, full
length, and rose dripping wet and mortified. Thore the Hound got

a thump in his head from Gunbjor's stalwart elbows, and
Skull-Splitter, who had more courage than discretion, was pitched