Mystified still, I crept back where Larry, sheer happiness pouring from him, was whistling softly and polishing up his automatic.

His gaze fell upon Olaf's grim, sad face and softened.
"Buck up, Olaf!" he said.

"We've got a good fighting chance.

Once we link up with Lakla and her crowd I'm betting that we get your wife--never doubt it! The baby--" he hesitated awkwardly.

The Norseman's eyes filled; he stretched a hand to the O'Keefe.
"The _Yndling_--she is of the _de Dode_," he half whispered, "of the blessed dead.