rebellious self toiling at the desk; and he marvelled that in this
far-off place and time that toil was to be of use to him.

"To some small degree I can," he answered. "I learned in my boyhood; but
last summer, on tee dairy farm of Gilli of Trondhjem, I practised on
sheep-skins--"

"Gilli of Trondhjem?" Leif repeated. He sat suddenly erect, and shot a
glance at the unconscious Helga; and the old German, peering from the
shadows behind him, did the same.

Alwin regarded them wonderingly. "Yes, Gilli the trader, whom men call
the Wealthy. It was he who first had me in my captivity."

For a long time the chief sat tugging thoughtfully at his yellow
mustache. Tyrker bent over and whispered in his ear; and he nodded
slowly, with another glance at Helga.

"But for this I should never have thought of him,--yet, it is certainly
one way out of the matter."

Suddenly he made a motion with his hand, so that the circle fell back
out of hearing. He turned and fixed his piercing eyes on the thrall as
though he would probe his brain.

"I ask you to tell me what manner of man this Gilli is?"

It happened that Alwin asked nothing better than a chance to free his
mind. He answered instantly: "Gilli of Trondhjem is a low-minded man who
has gained great wealth, and is so greedy for property that he would