"What would you do?"

"First, I would go to the high school at Tromso, and then to the University at Christiania." Johan arose to a sitting position, placed his pipe back on the shelf, and picked up the book again. "This is a history, a history of Norway. I know it quite well now, but I would learn all there is to learn about that subject. Then I would study the law-one must know something about that and then, I might have to teach school a while, but not long. I would get into Stortinget somehow. I tell you my boy, this country of ours has a glorious future. We are not going to be lorded over by a king much longer. We're going to be a republic, Harald, a free republic like the states in America. We are Norsemen, and we are going to be free in name as well as in fact. O, it makes my blood boil when I think of how we-sons of the Vikings of old, who made all Europe tremble--of how we sit quietly under the rule of a Frenchman! Of a Frenchman, think of it! We might tolerate one of Harald Haarfagre's descendants, but a Frenchman-!"

Harald let the lines lay in a tangle while he listened. Johan jumped from the bunk, walked back and forth, and then he laughed quietly as if to himself.

"I don't often break out like that, though I feel like it many times. I am visionary, perhaps, but I can't help being as God has made me."

Johan went to his clothes box under his bunk, took out a Bible, pulled a butter keg from under the table and sat down. "When I get worked up like that, I always read my Bible. That quiets me again."

"I thought you didn't believe in the Bible much," said Harald. "Believe in it! Of course, I do. I believe in it more than Pastor Bange does. Let me read to you some of Christ's Sermon on the Mount. I think that is so grand."

The fisherman read, in his rich, deep-toned voice, while the young man listened. Certainly some deeper meanings were brought out even by the way it was read. After a half hour's reading, Johan closed the book and began talking again.

The Norwegian law-making body.

"So, you do not think I am religious," he said, much more quietly than when his theme was political, "but I claim to be quite religious. I believe in God, I believe in Jesus Christ, I believe in the doctrine, which he taught, but I do not believe much of the stuff that is preached now-a-days. It seems to me that the religion of the preachers-and they are pretty much all alike-is so unreal, so unreasonable, so out of harmony with everything else in life that I can't comprehend it. My notion of religion is that it should be a divine essence that permeates all things-yet that does not define it. It should be something we could not put on and off, as the priest does his surplice. It should not be apart from nature, from science or from any known truth, but should harmonize with them all. It should be something that every man could mix with his daily life. It should smile from the flower; sing from the brook; shine from the stars in heaven; encompass the whole human family, past, present, and future; be the safety anchor in every storm; the Father-whisper to the son, and it should answer some of my soul's innermost questions on the mystery of my being."

Stamping the snow from his feet, Jens came in and announced that the storm had nearly ceased, that there were prospects of fishing on the morrow. That night Harald could hardly sleep. Johan's talk had disturbed him, had seemingly stirred some deep feeling within him. His thoughts were very much in a muddle, and he was glad when at length the gray dawn appeared.

But the storm was not over, though it lulled towards noon. Some of the fishermen were fretful, showing anxiety about their lines and nets. The flag was hoisted after dinner, but not many went out. Some said that the flagman had made a mistake, as the storm was not yet over.

Johan, Harald, and Jens went out to take in yesterday's lines. Uncle Erik would not go; not that he feared the sea, but he was not well. The wind blew from the land, and they were not long in reaching their lines which were well out in the open fjord; but the storm had driven them so that they had become entangled with others. They were, however, full of fish and must be hauled. The men worked hard that whole afternoon. The sky cleared, but the wind blew, strong and cold. The waves rolled high, their

white crests frequently breaking into the boat. The cold increased as night came on, yet the men silently and earnestly continued their labors.

The stars were out when the boat was ready to return. The wind blew more fiercely than ever from the land, and it became steadily colder. The boat had become coated with ice, both inside. and along the top railing. It was, therefore, heavy, and clumsily and slowly moved along its zig-zag course. When the men had finished their work, they were tired and sat down to rest. In a few minutes, their clothing was frozen stiff, and icicles hung from hair and beard. The spray seemed to freeze on their faces.

Still the cold increased. The boat became heavier with ice. Night came on. The sky was a deep blue, studded with diamond stars. The sea, of the same color, was nearly hidden under its covering of white-caps.

"We must not sit still," said Harald, "we will die in this cold. Here, let me steer, while you work at the oars."

Johan did not answer. Harald reached for the oars, but found them frozen fast to the boat! He, however, chopped two of them loose and gave one to each of the others.

"No," said Johan, "you and Jens use them. I will steer." "But you'll freeze to death, Johan, sitting still. Let me steer a while."

So Harald took his turn at the tiller, while Johan and Jens worked at the oars. It was nearly impossible to do anything with them, so heavy and clumsy were they with encrusted ice. In twenty minutes, both oars had been lost in the sea, and Johan went back to the tiller.

Both Johan and Jens produced brandy flasks from their pockets. The bottle which Jens had was nearly empty, as he had taken drinks from it during the afternoon, but that which Johan handed to Harald was nearly full.

"Drink," said Johan, "drink and get warm!"

Harald had never yet tasted strong drink, and he hesitated remembering his father's words, as he took the flask; but there could be no harm in taking a little now, if it would help keep him warm and the marrow seemed to be freezing in his bones. But Johan needed it more than he. Johan must sit by the tiller. He

could move about. Harald put the flask to his lips and took a small sip. The liquor made a stinging sensation in his mouth.

"Johan, you must have the rest. I can move about and keep warm. Jens, man, get up; don't lie there, you'll freeze to death!"

Jens had fallen into the boat, and lay in a stupor. Harald tried to shake him into action, but it was useless. He then lifted him bodily, and tried to have him move about, but the instant Harald let go his hold, Jens would lie down again.

"Shift the sail," said Johan, "we must tack." The ropes were like bars of iron, and it was nearly impossible to do anything with them; but it was movement, anyway, and in movement lay his only hope. The lights from the fishermen's houses could be seen, twinkling now and then above the heaving sea. The distant roar of the waves, dashing themselves into spray against the rocks could be heard. The boat crept slowly on. It would take an hour yet to reach the shore.

Harald felt drowsiness stealing over him. He knew what that meant. Perhaps he could get another swallow of brandy; Jens lay still, and Harald searched for his flask. He found it clenched in the dying man's hand, but it was empty. Harald had no desire to try to arouse Jens. He moved up to the tiller where Johan sat.

"Have you any brandy left, Johan, I'm terribly cold?”

Johan did not answer. Harald shook his cousin fiercely. "Get up," he shouted, "get up, and move. Oh, Johan, wake up, don't sit there and die! Remember Maria and the children."

But the steerman sat immovable. Harald heard only a moan escape his lips. The boat was now in danger of running onto the rocks. Once more, it must tack; into the harbor this time. Harald shifted the sail and shouted to Johan to turn the rudder; but Johan sat immovable, still. Harald hurried with all speed possible, to the tiller, and gave it a turn. The boat slowly changed, striking out on its new course. Harald made an effort to take Johan's hand from the tiller, but it seemed frozen to it, so that he wrenched with all his might to get it loose. Then Johan fell forward on his face. Harald turned him over, but could do

no more.

As the boat drew nearer to the high mountain wall, the wind slightly moderated, but this would not help the freezing fishermen, as it would take so much longer to reach land. Harald headed his boat for the lights. He was extremely tired, and a rest seemed so good. Oh, how cold it was! His mitts were like iron gloves. Johan and Jens lay in the boat as if asleep, and Harald felt anxious to join them. How could he endure it, until he could reach the shore.

The schoolmaster, down at Opdal, had told them, one day, what were the sensations of freezing to death. Harald now remembered it clearly. A panorama went before his eyes. There were Opdal's beloved hills and vales, green in summer beauty. He heard the sweet music of the sheep's bell; he scented the wild odor of the pine woods. There was grandmother, sitting by the stove, spinning, and humming as she spun. Father's sharp ax made the chips fly. The children shouted in their play. Little Hulda, little sister Hulda, climbed again upon his shoulders, and dug her tiny fingers into his curls, to hold on when her horse went fast. And then, down at Vangen, he saw a white-painted house, and a girl digging in the garden. She smiled at him, and, going to the flower-beds which were located under the glass frames, she picked the largest red rose on the bush, and gave it to him. He put it in his pocket, his inside pocket, right here—

Harald made a movement, as if to put his hand into an inner pocket of his jacket; but his fingers were stiff with cold. But the exertion awoke him to his senses again, and he realized that the withered flower was safe in the pocket of his best coat on shore. The night grew dark and cold again, but the lights on the shore seemed much nearer. He must not give up. One more effort, just one more, for her sake-for her who had given him the rose.

Ten minutes later, a boat from the shore met him, and Harald had a faint recollection of being lifted out and rolled into a blanket. Then he knew no more, until he awoke, the next day in his Uncle Erik's bunk-house on the shore.

The church at Vagsund was filled to overflowing with fishermen, come to pay their last tokens of respect to their three dead comrades, Johan Bernsen, Jens Monson, and Ivar Soroe. The last