And down into every
creek and bay she turned her searching eyes. Suddenly she halted and
drew back a few paces, then crouched upon the ground, bidding Allan do
likewise. Thus she crept to the brink of the cliff that stands frowning
above the bay of Stravannan.
The light of dawn had by this time chased away the shadows of night, and
headlands and rocks stood out clear against the gray sky. Aasta pointed
down to the stony beach below. The tide was at half flood, and lying
above the water's edge was a small fishing boat. Young Harald of Islay
had grasped the boat's gunwale and was pulling and tugging with all his
strength. A few more pulls and the little craft would be launched. Every
effort he made brought it a foot nearer the water.
"Ah, had I but my bow and a good straight arrow!" whispered Allan,
crouching down at Aasta's side.
"Hush! Give me your plaid," said she. "Let him not see you; but go you
down by the farther side of the bay while I take this nearer path. When
you hear me cry as the peewit cries, run as quickly as may be towards
the boat. Methinks by his fair hair that the lad should be of the
Norsemen. Is that so?"
Throwing the plaid about her head and shoulders, Aasta went downward by
the craggy rocks and was soon upon the beach. The boat was already half
in the water. The young Norseman turned with a startled look at hearing
footsteps on the shingle.
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