fear.

"Ay. What thinks the babe that he can do?" echoed another of the
warriors. But those who were nearer made no answer, for they saw
that the boy was very agile and strong beyond his years.

Sigurd watched him as he took his stand on the plank. The sunlight
shone upon his fair young face. His clear blue eyes flashed like
stars under his knitted brows. He ran his fingers over his short
yellow hair, and then, turning with his back to the sun, flung one
of his knives high up into the air. As it turned in its descent
he flung a second knife, then caught the first and again threw it
high--higher even than the vane on the ship's tall mast. He stood
with his bare feet firmly gripping the plank, and his head thrown
back, and his lithe, well balanced body swaying in regular movement
with his arms. Then as the two gleaming weapons were well in play,
rising and falling in quick succession, one of his hands went to
his belt, and he drew yet a third knife and plied it in turn with
the other two.

At this there was a murmur of praise from both ship and shore, and
the vikings declared that never before had they seen one so young
display such skill. And all the while Sigurd Erikson kept his eyes
upon the lad's glowing, upturned face.

"Who is this child?" he asked of the tall youth at his side. But
the sad eyed Thorgils paid no heed to the question, but only crept
nearer to the end of the gangboard, and stood there earnestly
watching. As he looked at the ship's bulwarks he caught sight
of the man with the red beard and broken nose--the chief of the