One boat was there already, and Errington recognized it with delight.

It was that in which he had seen the mysterious maiden disappear.

High and dry on the sand, out of reach of the tides, was a neat sailing-vessel; its name was painted round the stern--_The Valkyrie_.
As the two friends ran their boat on shore, and fastened it to the furthest ring of the convenient pier, they caught the distant sound of the plaintiff "coo-cooing" of turtle doves.
"You've done it this time, old boy," said Lorimer, speaking in a whisper, though he knew not why.

"This is the old _bonde's_ own private landing-place evidently, and here's a footpath leading somewhere.

Shall we follow it ?" Philip emphatically assented, and, treading softly, like the trespassers they felt themselves to be, they climbed the ascending narrow way that guided them up from the seashore, round through a close thicket of pines, where their footsteps fell noiselessly on a thick carpet of velvety green moss, dotted prettily here and there with the red gleam of ripening wild strawberries.