"There is another stanza," said Gerda. "I like the second one best," and she added:--

"Song of many a thousand year Rings through wood and valley clear; Picture thou of waters wild, Yet as tears of mourning mild.

To the rhyme Of past time Blend all hearts and lists each ear.

Guard the songs of Swedish lore, Love and sing them evermore."

"Good," said Lieutenant Ekman; "isn't there a third stanza, Birger?"

But Birger was at the other end of the boat. "Come here, Gerda," he called. "We can see Waxholm now."

Then, as the boat slipped past the great fortress and began to thread its way in and out among the islands in the fjord, the twins stood at the rail, pointing out to each other a beautiful wooded island, a windmill, a rocky ledge, a pretty summer cottage nestling among the trees, a fisherman's hut with fishing nets hung up on poles to dry, an eagle soaring across the blue sky, or a flock of terns flying up from the rocks with their harsh, rattling cry.

There was a new and interesting sight every moment, and the sailors in their blue uniforms nodded to each other with pleasure as Gerda flitted across the deck.

"She is like a little bluebird," they said; and like a bird she chirped and twittered, singing s.n.a.t.c.hes of song, and asking a hundred questions.

"I like those old fancies that the Vikings had about the sea and the sky and the winds," she said at last, stretching her arms wide and dancing from end to end of the deck. "They called the sea the 'necklace of the earth,' and the sky the 'wind-weaver.'"

"I wish I had the magic boat that Loki gave to Frey," answered Birger lazily, lying flat on his back and looking up into the "wind-weaver."

"If I had it, I would sail over the whole long 'necklace of the earth,'

from clasp to clasp."

But Gerda was already out of hearing. She had gone to sit beside her father and watch the course of the boat through the thousands of rocky islands that stud the coast.

"The captain says that the frost giants threw all these rocks out here when they were having a battle with old Njord, the G.o.d of the sea,"

she said. Then, as she caught sight of a lighthouse on a low outer ledge,--"Why, Father!" she cried, "I thought we were going to stop at every lighthouse on the coast."

"So we are, after we leave the Skargrd," replied Lieutenant Ekman. "I came down as far as this several weeks ago when the ice went out of the fjord. There are two or three months when all this water is frozen over and there can be no shipping; but as soon as the ice breaks up, the lamps are lighted in the lighthouses and I come down to see them. Now it is so light all night that for two months the lamps are not lighted at all unless there is a storm."

Gerda ran to the rail to wave her handkerchief to a little girl on the deck of a lumber vessel which they were pa.s.sing.

"The lighthouse keepers have a good many vacations, don't they?" she said when she came back.

"Yes," replied her father; "those on the east coast of Sweden have several months in the winter when the Baltic Sea and the Gulf of Bothnia are covered with solid ice; but on the south and west coasts the lighthouses and even the lightships are lighted all winter."

"Why is that?" questioned Birger, coming to join them.

"There is a warm current which crosses the Atlantic Ocean from the Gulf of Mexico and washes our western coast. It is called the Gulf Stream.

This current warms the air and makes the climate milder, and it keeps the water from freezing, so that shipping is carried on all winter,"

Lieutenant Ekman explained.

Just then a sailor came to tell them that their dinner was ready. While they were eating, the launch made a landing at the first of the lighthouses which the inspector had to visit.

While their father was busy, the twins clambered over the rocks, hunting for starfishes and sea-urchins, and Gerda picked a bouquet of bright blossoms for their table on the boat.

At the next stopping-place, which was Gefle, the captain took them on sh.o.r.e to see the shipyard where his own launch, the _North Star,_ was built; and so, all day long, there was something to keep them busy.

As the boat steamed farther north, each new day grew longer, each night shorter, until Birger declared that he believed the sun did not set at all.

"Oh, yes it does," his father told him. "It sets now at about eleven o'clock, and rises a little after one. You will have to wait until you cross the Polcirkel and get to the top of Mount Dundret before you have a night when the sun doesn't even dip below the horizon."

"We must be pretty near the Arctic Circle now," exclaimed Gerda. "It is growing colder and colder every minute."

"That is because the wind is blowing over an ice-floe," said her father, pointing to a large field of ice which seemed to be drifting slowly toward them.

"Look, look, Birger!" cried Gerda, "there are some seals on the ice."

"Yes," said Birger, "and there is a seal-boat sailing up to catch them."

"I'm going to draw a picture of it for Mother," Gerda announced, and she sat still for a long time, making first one sketch and then another,--a seal on a cake of ice, a lighthouse, a ship being dashed against the rocks, and a steam-launch cutting through the water, with a boy and girl on its deck.

"Oh dear!" she sighed after a while, "I wish something _enormous_ would happen. I'm tired of water and sky and sawmills and little towns with red houses just like the pictures in my geography."

"What would you like to have happen?" questioned her father.

"I should like to see some of my girl friends," replied Gerda quickly. "I haven't had any one to tell my secrets to for over a week."

"Perhaps something enormous will happen tomorrow," her father comforted her. "We'll see what we can do about it."

So Gerda went to sleep that night thinking of Hilma and Sigrid at home; and she slept through the beautiful bright summer night, little dreaming that the boat was bearing her steadily toward a new friend and a dearer friendship than any she had ever known.

CHAPTER IV

GERDA'S NEW FRIEND

"Look, Gerda," said Lieutenant Ekman, as their launch steamed the next morning toward a barren island off the east coast of Sweden, "do you see a child on those rocks below the lighthouse?"

Gerda looked eagerly where her father pointed. "Yes, I think I see her now," she said, after a moment.

Birger ran to the bow of the boat. "Come up here," he called. "I can see her quite plainly. She has on a rainbow skirt."

"Oh, Birger!" cried Gerda, "can it be the little girl who received our box? If it is, her name is Karen. Don't you remember the letter of thanks she wrote us?"

As she spoke, the child began clambering carefully over the rocks and made her way to the landing-place. The twins saw now that she wore the rainbow skirt and the dark bodice over a white waist, which forms the costume of the Rattvik girls and women; but they saw, also, that she walked with a crutch.

"Oh, Father, she is lame!" Gerda exclaimed. Then she stood quietly on the deck, waving her hand and smiling in friendly greeting until the launch was made fast to the wharf.

"Are you Gerda?" asked the little lame girl eagerly, as Lieutenant Ekman swung his daughter ash.o.r.e; and Gerda asked just as eagerly, "Are you Karen?" Then both children laughed and answered "Yes," together.

"Come up to the house, Gerda, I want to show you my birds," said Karen at once; and she climbed up over the rocks toward the tiny cottage.

Gerda followed more slowly, looking pityingly at the crutch and the poor, crooked back; but Karen turned and called to her to hurry.

"I have ever so many things to show you, Gerda," she said. "There are no children for me to play with, so I have to make friends with the birds. I have four now, and I am trying to teach them to eat from my hand."

As Karen spoke, she led the way around the corner of the house, and there, sheltered from the wind, was a collection of cages, mounted on a rough wooden bench. In each one was a bird which had been injured in some way.