By the great fire we made our first meal ashore since we left my home in Caithness eight long days ago.  Nor can I say that it was a dismal feast by any means, for we had won through the many perils we had foreseen, and were in safety and unhurt; and young enough, moreover, to take things lightly as they came, making the best of them.

Chapter 9:  The Isle Of Hermits.

As may be supposed, we were worn out, and the warmth may have made us drowsy.  The roar of the sea, and the singing of the wind in the stiff grass of the sand hills was in our ears, unnoticed, and we had made up our minds that there was no man on the island and that we need fear no meddling with the ship until the sea calmed, and men might come from the mainland to see what they could take from the wreck.  Presently we ourselves would get what was worth aught to us and hide it here.

So it came to pass that when from out of the hills round us came a small, rough brown dog which barked wildly at us, we leapt to our feet with our hands on our swords as if Heidrek himself had come.  But no man came with him, and suddenly he turned and fled as if he had heard a call.  I was about to follow him to the top of the sand hill to see what his coming meant, when the pebbles rattled on the near beach, and I halted.  There were sounds as of a bare foot among them.

Into the little cleft between the dunes, out of which we looked over the sea, came a short man, dressed in a long, brown robe which was girt to him with a cord, and had a hood which framed his pleasant, red face.  Black-haired and gray-eyed he was, and his hands were those of one who works hard in the fields.  There was a carved, black wooden cross on the end of his cord girdle, and a string of beads hung from it.  At his heels was the brown dog, and in his hand a long, shepherd’s crook.

He came carelessly into the opening, looking from side to side as he walked as if seeking the men he knew must be shipwrecked, and stayed suddenly when he came on us.  His face paled, and he half started back, as if he was terrified.  Then he recovered himself, looked once more, started anew, and fairly turned and ran, the dog leaping and barking round him.  After him went Dalfin, laughing.

“Father,” he cried in his own tongue, “father!  Stay—­we are Irish—­at least some of us are.  I am.  We are friends.”

The man stopped at that and turned round, and without more ado Dalfin the Prince unhelmed and bent his knee before him, saying something which I did not catch.  Whereon the man lifted his hand and made the sign of the Cross over him, repeating some words in a tongue which was strange to me.  I could not catch them.

Dalfin rose up and called to me, and I went toward them, leaving Gerda and Bertric to wait for what might happen.

“This is Malcolm of Caithness, a good Scot,” said he.

“Malcolm, we are in luck again, for it seems that we have fallen into the hands of some good fathers, which is more than I expected, for I never heard that there was a monastery here.”