his fair round face and his short gold hair. There the man stood
over him, watching him as he dreamed his childish dreams. Then he
knelt down and gently drew aside the lad's cloak and opened the
front of his kirtle, so that the moonlight fell upon the white skin
of his throat and breast.

Suddenly Olaf awoke and saw the dark figure bending over him.

"Thorgils, Thorgils!" he cried in alarm.

"Be silent!" commanded Sigurd Erikson, gripping the boy's arm. "No
harm will come to you."

Olaf struggled to his feet and was about to take to flight, but
his master's firm grip held him.

"Silly child!" muttered Sigurd. "Why do you fear me? Have I not
already told you that I am your friend?"

"I do not trust your friendship," answered Olaf angrily, remembering
Thorgil's warning. "And now I believe that you have brought me here
only that you may secretly put me to death."

"I have brought you here for your own good, my child," said Sigurd
softly; "and I give you my solemn word that no man, whosoever he
be, shall do you any injury while I live to be your protector. Be
silent, and listen to me."

Olaf grew calmer.