Thereat those two brethren threw themselves at the feet of the old man, and besought him to let them bide with the rest for that crown of martyrdom which they might gain.

“No, my sons,” he said sternly, and yet lovingly; “your lives may yet be of use.  Ours are done.  Now you shall win more by saving the lives of these friends of ours who came to us in need than by losing your own.”

Then he bent toward them, and spoke rapidly in the Latin tongue, and I saw their faces change, and they rose up.  Thereafter they had no more to say of staying, though at the time I could not tell what the words which wrought this change might be.  Without another word they took Bertric’s arms and mine and Gerda’s little pack, and started for the shore, and as they went the old man smiled as if content.  Then he bent toward us.

“Go, my children,” he said; “you have no moment to waste longer.  It has been good to speak with you.”

Now I set that which he had given me in Gerda’s hand.  It was a little black crucifix carven of the bog oak by one of the brothers who was skilful at that work.  She took it with a flushing face.

“Malcolm,” she said, “tell him that we will not forget.”

So I told him, and he smiled, saying nothing in answer.  I dare say he knew that Gerda would not do so, if he had less hopes for myself.  Gerda first, and then we two in turn, bent and kissed his thin hand, and he blessed us, and we must needs go.

Across the sand hills we went, keeping out of sight of the opposite shore, and I looked back once and saw that the little black-robed group was moving away up the glen.  One brother was coming from the chapel with a burden, which, no doubt, was the case containing the holy vessels.

“Four of us to pull, and Gerda to steer,” said Bertric, whose spirits, like my own, were rising.  “We should do well.  These brothers, moreover, know where we can land, which was the difficulty I most feared.  They are terrible cliff walls yonder.”

“How far must we go before we can find a landing?” I asked Phelim on this.

“Some five miles or more,” he said, after a little thought.  “There is a cove and beach at the foot of a valley.  The fishers took me there once to help a sick man.  I can find the place.”

So it seemed that a village lay there also, which was good hearing, for the sake of Gerda, even if it were naught but of turf huts.  Thence we could send a message to Dalfin.

Now, while we spoke thus, we were getting the boat down to the water quickly enough between the four of us.  She was very light for her size, and we had all her gear in her already.  There was room in her for four rowers and two passengers aft, and I dare say might have carried two more at a pinch.  With the five of us she would be in her best trim, therefore, and we might well distance a larger boat if it was overladen at all.  But the boat we fled from was not to be seen now, even from the higher sand hills.  Some rise in the island hid her, or else she was well over to this shore.