“Crinkum, crankum!” she said, “you’d have me toil and moil while you pat your nose at the fire.”

“Ruth,” said Adam.

“Hoity toity!” cried she.  “The house is mine.  Away with you!” So poor old Adam also set out for Reykjavik, and the boatmen cried after him, “Dy banne jee oo!” and he immediately jeeooed, as you shall hear.  Last, GREEBA’s six brothers packed up, and left for Reykjavik; and now that we have got all our characters safely there, or on the way, we can get on with the story.  It may be mentioned, however, that Mrs. Adam found a fever in a neglected cattle-trough.  Being a grasping woman, she caught it, and took it home—­and it killed her.

CHAPTER IV.

Red Fason meant to kill Michael.  That was plain.  So he was tried by a Bishop and nine of his neighbours an hour or so after the attempt.  And although the time was so short, all the witnesses had been collected, and all formalities completed.  And Fason was dumb, but great of heart, and the Bishop condemned him to the sulphur-mines, for which he soon afterwards started with his long stride, and his shorn head, and his pallid face.  Upon this the six brothers of GREEBA arrived, spread calumnies, and were believed.  Their names were Asher, Jacob, John, THURSTAN, STEAN, and Ross, but they preferred addressing one another as JOBBERNOWL, wastrel, GOMERSTANG, BLUBBERHEAD, numskull, and BLATHERSKITE.  It saved time, and made things pleasant all round.  Michael quarrelled with his wife, and there is no knowing what might have happened, if gorgon GORGONSEN, at the head of some Danish soldiers, had not upset the Republic, and banished Michael to the sulphur-mines to join his brother.

The book of Red Fason.

CHAPTER V.

Poor Adam arrived too late, yet he has his use in the tale, for his words to gorgon GORGONSEN were bitter words, such as the cruel old Governor liked not.  And he harried him, and worried him, but without avail, for in Reykjavik money was justice, and Adam had spent his.  What availed it that a grey silt should come up out of the deposits of his memory?  That was a totally unmarketable commodity in Reykjavik, as Adam found to his cost.  And in the end intending to shoot Michael they shot Fason.  And yet it is perfectly certain that the next chapter of this Saga, had there been a next, would have found all the characters once more in the Isle of Man.  For nothing is more surely established than this:  that a good (or a bad) Icelander, when he dies (or lives), goes always to the Isle of Man, and every self-respecting Manxman returns the compliment by going to Iceland.  And thus are Sagas constructed.  And this is the End.