Then one of the men on watch began to sing, and his song was an old
sea stave that had a swing and roll in its rough tune that was like
the broken surge of sea water, even while it was timed to the fall
of oar blades into the surf. One may not say how old those songs
are that the seamen sing.

"That is the dragon's answer," said the king to me. "Sing, Redwald,
and take your part."

So when the man came to the part where all should join, I took up
the song with him, and then many others of the men joined in--some
five or six in each ship.

"That is good," said Olaf, laughing softly. "Here are men whose
hearts are light."

The man who sang first came now and looked over the high bows of
the ship, and his figure was black against the moonlight.

"Ho, master scald!" he cried in his great voice, "now shall you
sing the rest. You have put me out of conceit with my own singing.
Why are you not at the feast, where I would be if I were not tied
here!"

"He is keeping the dragons awake," laughed the king. "Nor do I
think that even a feast would take you from the ship just as the
tide is on the turn."

"Maybe not, lord king," answered the man, lifting his hand in
salute. "But the dragons will be wakeful enough--never fear for