I nodded.

“It is where?” he asked again.

“We go first to Ponape and from there to Metalanim Harbour⁠—to the Nan-Matal. You know the place?”

Huldricksson bowed⁠—a white gleam as of ice showing in his blue eyes.

“It is there?” he asked.

“It is there that we must first search,” I answered.

“Good!” said Olaf Huldricksson. “It is good!”

He looked at Da Costa inquiringly and the little Portuguese, following his thought, answered his unspoken question.

“We should be at Ponape tomorrow morning early, Olaf.”

“Good!” repeated the Norseman. He looked away, his eyes tear-filled.