So I ungirt my own weapon--a good plain sword that I had won from a viking in Caithness--and laid it in the place of that he had given me.

And as I put the thin fingers on its hilt, almost thinking that they would chose around it, a ring slipped from them into my hand, as if he would give that also, and I kept it therefore.
Then for a minute I stood before Jarl Sigurd, waiting to see if he had any word; but when he spoke not, I lifted the sword and saluted him.
"Skoal to Jarl Sigurd; rest in peace, and farewell." Then I went forth softly, and came out into sunshine; for the wind was singing round the hilltops, and the dun mist had gone.

Then I was ware that the sound of the stone on the sword edge had long ceased, and I looked for Kolgrim.
He was lying on the grass in the place where I had left him, but he was on his face, and the sword and whetstone were flung aside from him.

At first I feared that he had been in some way slain because of his terror; but when I came near, I saw that his shoulders heaved as if he wept.

Then I stood over him, treading softly.
"Kolgrim," I said.
At that he looked up, and a great light came into his face, and he sprang to his feet and threw his arms round me, weeping, yet with a strong man's weeping that does but come from bitter grief.
"Master," he cried, "O master I thought you lost--and I dared not follow you." "I have met with no peril," I said, "nor have I been long gone." "More than two hours, master, have you been in that place--two long hours.