had forgotten--the song of the wind in the trees, the rush of the
breakers, and the cry of the sea birds across the sands.

Then my heart began to beat wildly, for out of these sounds, or
among them, began to come clearly, and yet more clearly the sound
of the tread of many armed feet--the passing of a mighty host--and
with that the thunder of the war song, and the cry of those who
bade farewell. And these sounds passed over us and around us, going
seawards; then they died away out towards the north, and were gone.

Yet still the king listened, and again came the tramp of the armed
thousands, and the war song, and the voices of parting, and they
passed, and came, and passed yet once more.

Then after the third time there was nought but the sound of wind
and wave and sea fowl, and I drew closer to Olaf and asked him:

"What is this that we hear?"

"Wait," he said, and pointed seaward.

Then I looked, and I saw all the northern sky glow red as glows the
light of a burning town on the low clouds when the host that has
fired it looks back on its work. And plain and clear in the silver
moonlight against the crimson sky sat the wraith of a king, throned
on the sand at the very water's edge, and round him stood shadowy
nobles, looking seaward.

And even as I saw it the first wave of the rising tide sent its
edge of foam shorewards, and it surged around the kingly feet and