again and again. At last, about seven o'clock: he must be gone by now, I
say to myself, and I row home. Grindhusen has got over to the mainland,
and calls across to me from there: _"Farvel!"_

Something thrilled me warmly at the word; it was like a calling from my
youth, from Skreia, from days a generation gone.

I row across to him and ask:

"Can you dig that well all alone?"

"No. I'll have to take another man along."

"Take me," I said. "Wait for me here, while I go up and settle at the
house."

Half-way up I heard Grindhusen calling again:

"I can't wait here all night. And I don't believe you meant it, anyway."

"Wait just a minute. I'll be down again directly."

And Grindhusen sets himself down on the beach to wait. He knows I've some
of that first-rate _Brandevin_ still left.




IV