.

HOW WILFRID KEPT A PROMISE, AND SWAM IN PORTLAND RACE.
All the rest of that afternoon we two had to bide on the narrow fore deck of the long ship, watching the pillage of the little town.

Once I waxed impatient, and asked my cousin if we might not try to escape, seeing that little heed was paid to us, and that our staying here as hostages had been of no use.

But he shook his head, telling me that until he had spoken with Thorleif or Thrond, to whom we had passed our word, we must bide; which I saw was right.
Presently, as the evening began to close in, Thorleif came to us, and with him was the old chief.

After them came a man with food in plenty in a ship's cauldron, and a leathern jack of ale, which he set before us as we sat on the coils of rope which were stowed forward.
"Welsh mutton and Welsh ale," said Thorleif, smiling.