It was very bad manners, captain. I beg your
pardon. I believe I am overtired.'
The Dutchman was as kind as possible, and begged Ericson to stay the
night and occupy his berth. But he insisted on going home, although
he was clearly unfit for such a walk. They bade the skipper
good-night, went on shore, and set out, Ericson leaning rather
heavily upon Robert's arm. Robert led him up Marischal Street.
The steep ascent was too much for Ericson. He stood still upon the
bridge and leaned over the wall of it. Robert stood beside, almost
in despair about getting him home.
'Have patience with me, Robert,' said Ericson, in his natural voice.
'I shall be better presently. I don't know what's come to me. If I
had been a Celt now, I should have said I had a touch of the second
sight. But I am, as far as I know, pure Northman.'
'What did you see?' asked Robert, with a strange feeling that miles
of the spirit world, if one may be allowed such a contradiction in
words, lay between him and his friend.
Ericson returned no answer. Robert feared he was going to have a
relapse; but in a moment more he lifted himself up and bent again to
the brae.
They got on pretty well till they were about the middle of the
Gallowgate.
'I can't,' said Ericson feebly, and half leaned, half fell against
the wall of a house.
'Come into this shop,' said Robert. 'I ken the man. He'll lat ye
sit doon.'
He managed to get him in.
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