Captain Gordon did not sit down again. Perhaps the mention of the name Ericson reminded him of his appointment with my father. But he had not yet effected his purpose of securing Grace Drever's cat, and he turned to the old woman, asking her again if she would part with Baudrons. Grace, I do not doubt, had been impressed by the open-hearted bearing of the captain, and I had noticed his kindly way of addressing her, so that she might hear him without effort. But she looked fondly at her cat as he sat before the crimson fire, licking his lips after the fish bones he had eaten. Few mice or rats came in his way, but--luck for Baudrons--there was an abundance of fish, and the wild birds that Andrew brought home supplied him with many a stolen banquet. There was one ruling passion in Baudrons, and that was his desire to gain possession of the noisy jackdaw which so often disturbed him with its steady shining eyes as they looked down at him from behind the wicker bars of the cage. I believe Baudrons anticipated the death of Peter as the crowning achievement of his life; and had he been consulted in the matter of the Lydia he might have shown some reluctance to enter the community of mice before he had compassed the jackdaw's death. Grace was finally prevailed upon--much to the satisfaction of the dominie--to give up her cat; and it was arranged that I should take Baudrons out to the ship before school time on the following morning. I was preparing to leave with Jessie and Captain Gordon, when Mrs. Drever called me to her near the fire. "Come here, Halcro, laddie. Tak the peerie stone, see, and have a care that ye dinna lose it;" and she handed to me the little black stone. Mr. Drever was standing beside her, and I looked to him to ask if I should take possession of this much of the viking's treasure. "Take it, take it, Halcro," he said. "There can be no harm in your keeping it--at least until we find whether the authorities claim it or not. I canna think that there would be any money value in it to speak of. But you'd better be careful not to lose it at any rate." "But the thing is of no use to me, sir, is it?" I asked. "That's for you to find out, Halcro," said he. "You see it is a sort of charm, or amulet. The old Scandinavian vikings used to carry such things about with them, in the belief that by so doing they would be protected from all personal harm. Our Jarl Haffling, I suppose, wore this same amulet at his neck to ensure his safety through the perils of the battle and the storm. No doubt he believed that the possession of such a talisman gave him a charmed existence. The sea could not drown him, sword could not wound him, fortune favoured him, so long as he wore this little stone on his breast." "And yet, sir, the Jarl Haffling came to his grave in the Bay of Skaill," I said incredulously.