found his way back again to that enchanted land that lay behind the
peat-flames in the shadowy memory. Early in the morning he read it,
with his head on the box of hardtack and his feet on the water-can.
Twice he reluctantly tore himself from its pages and put it back where
he had found it. No one came to claim it, and it lay there, with the
golden castle shining in the sun. Sandy decided to take one more peep.

It was all about gallant knights and noble lords, of damsels passing
fair, of tourneys and feasts and battles fierce and long. Story after
story he devoured, until he came to the best one of all. It told of a
beautiful damsel with a mantle richly furred, who was girt with a
cumbrous sword which did her great sorrow; for she might not be
delivered of it save by a knight who was of passing good name both of
his lands and deeds. And after that all the great knights had striven
in vain to draw the sword from its sheath, a poor knight, poorly
arrayed, felt in his heart that he might essay it, but was abashed. At
last, however, when the damsel was departing, he plucked up courage to
ask if he might try; and when she hesitated he said: "Fair damsel,
worthiness and good deeds are not only in arrayment, but manhood and
worship are hid within man's person." Then the poor knight took the
sword by the girdle and sheath and drew it out easily.

And it was not until then that Sandy knew that he had had no dinner,
and that the sun had climbed over to the other side of the steamer,
and that a continual cheering was coming up from the deck below.
Cautiously he pulled back the canvas flap and emerged like the head of
a turtle from his shell. The bright sunshine dazzled him for a moment,
then he saw a sight that sent the dreams flying. There, just ahead,
was the _Great Britain_ under full way, valiantly striving to hold her
record against the oncoming steamer.