Title: The Norsemen in the West
Author: Ballantyne, R. M. (Robert Michael), 1825-1894
Language: English
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THE NORSEMEN IN THE WEST, BY R.M. BALLANTYNE.



CHAPTER ONE.

THE NORSEMEN IN THE WEST; OR AMERICA BEFORE COLUMBUS.

THE CURTAIN RISES AND THE PLAY BEGINS.

One fine autumn evening, between eight and nine hundred years ago, two
large hairy creatures, bearing some resemblance to polar bears, might
have been seen creeping slowly, and with much caution, toward the summit
of a ridge that formed a spur to one of the ice-clad mountains of
Greenland.  The creatures went on all-fours.  They had long bodies,
short legs, shorter tails, and large round heads.

Having gained the top of the ridge they peeped over and beheld a hamlet
nestled at the foot of a frowning cliff; and at the head of a smiling
inlet.  We use these terms advisedly, because the cliff, being in deep
shadow, looked unusually black and forbidding, while the inlet, besides
being under the influence of a profound calm, was lit up on all its
dimples by the rays of the setting sun.

The hamlet consisted of one large cottage and half a dozen small cots,
besides several sheds and enclosures wherein were a few sleepy-looking
sheep, some lean cattle, and several half-starved horses.  There was
active life there also.  Smoke issued from the chimneys; fresh-looking
women busied themselves about household work; rosy children tumbled in
and out at the doors, while men in rough garments and with ruddy
countenances mended nets or repaired boats on the shore.  On a bench in
front of the principal cottage sat a sturdy man, scarcely middle-aged,
with shaggy fair and flowing locks.  His right foot served as a horse to
a rapturous little boy, whose locks and looks were so like to those of
the man that their kinship was obvious--only the man was rugged and
rough in exterior; the boy was round and smooth.  Tow typified the hair
of the man; floss silk that of the boy.

Everything in and around the hamlet bore evidence of peace and thrift.
It was a settlement of Norsemen--the _first_ Greenland settlement,
established by Eric the Red of Iceland about the year 986--nearly twenty
years before the date of the opening of our tale--and the hairy
creatures above referred to had gone there to look at it.

Having gazed very intently over the ridge for a considerable time, they
crept backwards with extreme caution, and, on getting sufficiently far
down the hill-side to be safe from observation, rose on their hind-legs
and began to talk; from which circumstance it may be concluded that they
were human beings.  After talking, grinning, and glaring at each other
for a few minutes, with gestures to correspond, as though on the point
of engaging in mortal combat, they suddenly wheeled about and walked off
at a rapid pace in the direction of a gorge in the mountains, the head
of which was shut in by and filled up with cliffs and masses and fields
of ice that overtopped the everlasting hills, and rested like a white
crest on the blue sky.  Vast though it seemed, this was merely a tongue
of those great glaciers of the mysterious North which have done, and are
still doing, so much to modify the earth's economy and puzzle
antiquarian philosophy; which form the fountain-head of influences that
promote the circulation of the great deep, and constitute the cradle of
those ponderous icebergs that cover the arctic seas.

From out that gloomy gorge a band of more than a hundred hairy creatures
issued with wild shouts and upraised arms to welcome back the
adventurous two.  They surrounded them, and forthwith the nation--for
the entire nation was evidently there--held a general assembly or
parliament on the spot.  There was a good deal of uproar and confusion
in that parliament, with occasional attempts on the part of several
speakers to obtain a hearing at one and the same time--in which respects
this parliament bore some resemblance to civilised assemblies of the
present day.  There was also an immense amount of gesticulation and
excitement.

At last there uprose a man clad in garments that had once belonged to a
seal, and with a face that was quite as round and nearly as flat as a
frying-pan.  He stood fully half a foot higher than the tallest of his
fellows.  Like the adventurous two he had a tail--a very short tail--to
his coat; but indeed this might be said of all the men of the tribe.
The women's tails, however, were long.  Perhaps this was meant as a mark
of distinction, for their costume was so very similar to that of the men
that their smaller size and longer tails alone marked the difference.
To be sure there was additional presumptive evidence of their sex in the
fact that most of them carried babies in their hoods; which hoods were
made preposterously large for the express purpose of containing the
babies.

To the tall man with the flat face the assembly listened with eager
looks, bated breath, and open mouths.  What he said--who can tell?  His
language was unintelligible to civilised ears.  Not so, however, his
actions, which were vigorous and full of meaning, and comprehensible by
all nations.  If there be any significance in signs at all he began by
saying, "Hold your stupid tongues and _I_ will speak."  This drew forth
loud and prolonged applause--as consummate impudence usually does.  When
he pointed with both hands to the women and children, and spoke in
tender tones, instantly thereafter growling in his speech, gnashing his
teeth, glaring fiercely, waving one hand at the surrounding hills and
shaking the other, clenched, at the unoffending sea--he was obviously
stating his grievances, namely, that the white men had come there to
wrest from him his native hills and glaciers, and rob him of his wife
and children, and that he defied them to come on and do their worst,
seeing that, in regard to the whole assembled white world in arms he did
not care a button--or a walrus-tusk, for buttons were unknown to these
creatures at that time.  When, suddenly changing his manner and tone, he
seized a spear, hissed his sentiments through his teeth with great
volubility, and made a furious plunge that caused the assembly to gasp,
and the man nearest the spear point to shrivel up--what _could_ be his
meaning save that nothing short of a hole right through the body of a
Norseman could appease the spirit of indignation that caused his blood
to boil?  And when, finally, he pointed to the setting sun, traced a
line with his finger from it downward to the centre of the earth under
his feet, then shook his spear wrathfully toward the sea and wound up
with a tremendous Ho! that would have startled the echoes of the place
had there been any there, it was plain to the meanest capacity that an
attack--impetuous and overwhelming--was to be made on the strangers at
midnight.

Whatever were his sentiments, the assembly heartily appreciated,
applauded, and approved them.  They cheered and shouted "Hear, hear,"
after their own fashion, and then the whole band rushed back into the
mountain gorge,--doubtless with the intent to gorge themselves with raw
blubber, prepare their weapons, and snatch a little repose before
issuing forth to battle.

But let us return to the Norsemen, over whose innocent heads such awful
prospects were impending.

The sturdy man with the fair shaggy locks was Leif, the son of Eric the
Red of Iceland.  The boy with the silken curls, who rode on his foot so
joyously, was his son Olaf.

Eric had died several years before the date on which our tale opens, and
Leif inherited his cottage and property at Brattalid in Ericsfiord, on
the west coast of Greenland--the hamlet which we have already described.

"Come now, Olaf," said Leif, flinging the child from his foot to his
knee, and thence to the ground, "give me your hand; we shall go see how
the boats and nets get on.--Hey! there goes a puff of wind.  We shall
have more presently."  He paused and scanned the seaward horizon with
that intent abstracted gaze which is peculiar to seafaring men.  So long
did he gaze, and so earnestly, that the child looked up in his face with
an expression of surprise, and then at the horizon, where a dark blue
line indicated the approach of a breeze.

"What do you see, father?" asked Olaf.

"Methinks I see two ships," replied Leif.

At this there came a sweet musical voice from the cottage:--"Ships,
brother!  Did I not tell you that I had a dream about two ships, and
said I not that I was sure something was going to happen?"

The speaker appeared in the doorway, drying her hands and arms on a
towel,--for she had been washing dishes.  She was a fair comely young
woman, with exceedingly deep blue eyes, and a bright colour in her
cheeks,--for women of the richer class were remarkably healthy and
well-made in those days.  They did a great deal of hard work with their
hands, hence their arms were strong and well developed without losing
anything of their elegance.

"You are always dreaming, widow Gudrid," said Leif, with a quiet
smile,--for he was no believer in dreams or superstitions, in which
respect he differed much from the men and women of his time;
"nevertheless, I am bound to admit that you did tell me that `something'
was going to happen, and no one can deny that something _is_ about to
occur just now.  But your dream happened a month or six weeks ago, and
the `something,' which you are pleased to assume is these two ships, is
only happening to-day.  See, now, I can be a more definite prophet than
thou: I will prophesy that Yule is coming,--and it will surely come if
you only wait long enough!"

"You are an unbeliever, brother-in-law," retorted Gudrid, with a laugh;
"but I have not time to reason with you.  These ships will bring
strangers, and I must prepare to show them hospitality.--Come, Olaf,
help me to put the house in order."

Thus summoned, Olaf followed Gudrid into the house with alacrity, for he
was passionately fond of his pretty aunt, who stood in the place of a
mother to him, his own mother having died when he was an infant.

"But, aunt," said Olaf, checking himself in the doorway and looking
wistfully back, "I want to see the ships come in."

"You shall see that, my son; I will not keep you too long."

This was quite sufficient.  Olaf thoroughly believed in his aunt's
truthfulness and wisdom.  He set to work to assist in clearing away the
confusion--part of which, in the shape of toys and chips--was of his own
creating--and became so busy that he almost forgot the ships--at least
if he did remember them they did not weigh heavily on his mind.

"Now, Olaf," said Gudrid, going to the window when the preparations were
nearly completed, "you may run down to the shore, for the ships will
soon be on the strand."

The boy waited no second bidding, you may be sure.  He flew out of the
house, and to his great surprise beheld the two ships--which so lately
had appeared like sea-birds on the horizon--coming grandly up the fiord,
their great square sails bulging out before a smart breeze.

All the men of the little colony were assembled on the shore--all, at
least, who chanced to be at home at the time; but many of the
inhabitants were absent--some fishing, some gone to Iceland, and others
on viking-cruise.  There were probably about thirty men on the sands,
besides a good many women and children.

It must not be supposed, however, that this was the whole of that
Greenland colony.  It was only the part of it that had settled at
Brattalid in Ericsfiord.  There was another portion, a few miles
distant, named Heriulfness, nearly as large as that of Ericsfiord, which
had been founded by Heriulf a friend and companion of Eric the Red.
Heriulf had soon followed his friend Eric to the grave, leaving the
management of the colony of Heriulfness to his son Biarne.

Biarne had not been present when the two sails were first observed, but
he chanced to come over to Brattalid just before their arrival.

"What, ho!  Biarne," shouted Leif, as the son of Heriulf went down to
the beach, "come up hither."

Leif stood on an elevated rock apart, and Biarne, a good deal excited,
went up to him.

"Why, what ails thee?" asked Leif.

"Nothing," replied Biarne, "but I think I know whose ship that first one
is."

"Ay! is it the ship of a friend or a foe?"

"A friend," replied Biarne--"at least he was a friend when I knew him in
Norway, nigh twenty summers past, and I did not think him changeable.
You and I, Leif, have often sailed these northern seas together and
apart, but I do not think that in all our wanderings either of us has
met before or since a finer man than Karlsefin, though he was a mere
stripling when I knew him."

The Norseman's eyes flashed as he spoke of his friend, for, besides
being a strong and handsome man, he possessed a warm enthusiastic heart.
Indeed, he had been noted in the settlement for the strength of his
affection for his father Heriulf, and his dutiful conduct towards him as
long as the old man lived.

"Karlsefin," repeated Leif, musing; "I know him not."

"Yet he knows you," said Biarne; "when I met him in Norway I told him
all about your discovery of Vinland."

"Nay, thine own discovery of it," said Leif.

"Not so," replied the other, with a blush, in which a frown mingled; "I
did but look upon the land--you went ashore and took possession."

"Well, if I did so I have not retained it," replied Leif, with a laugh;
"but say, how know you that this is Karlsefin's ship?"

"I know by the cut of her figure-head and the colour of her sails.
Karlsefin was always partial to stripes of white and blue."

"Well, it may be as you say; we shall soon know."  Thus saying, Leif
descended to the beach as the vessels approached and ran their keels
straight on the sandy shores of the bay.  There was great bustle on
board, and there were many men, besides some women, who could be seen
looking over the bulwarks with keen interest, while Leif's men brought
planks with which to make a gangway from the ship to the shore.

The ships which had thus come to Greenland were of the quaint build
peculiar to the Norse vessels of those days--a peculiarity of build, by
the way, which has not altogether disappeared, for to this day the great
central mast, huge square sail, and high prow may be seen in the fiords
of Norway.

Each of the vessels which now lay beached in Ericsfiord had a high
forecastle and poop, with figure-heads on stem and stern-posts that
towered higher still.  The ships were only half-decked, with benches for
numerous rowers, and each had a crew of sixty men.

When the gangway was laid to the leading ship the first man who
descended to the shore was of striking appearance.  It was not so much
that he was tall and strong enough to have been a worthy foeman to the
stoutest colonist in Ericsfiord, as that his demeanour was bland and
courtly, while there was great intellectuality in his dark handsome
countenance.  Unlike most Norsemen, his hair and beard were black and
close-curling, and his costume, though simple, was rich in quality.

The moment he landed, Biarne stepped forward, exclaiming, "Karlsefin!"

The stranger's face lighted up with surprise and pleasure.

"Biarne!" he said, seizing his hand, "I thought you were in Iceland."

"So I was, but now I am in Greenland, and right glad to be the first to
welcome my friend."

Hereupon the two shook hands fervently; but, not content with this, they
seized each other in an embrace, and their bearded mouths met with a
hearty masculine smack that did credit to their hearts, and which it
might have gratified the feelings of an affectionate walrus to behold.



CHAPTER TWO.

STRONG EMOTIONS ARE SUCCEEDED BY SUPPER, AND FOLLOWED BY DISCUSSIONS ON
DISCOVERY, WHICH END IN A WILD ALARM!

When Karlsefin had been introduced to Leif Ericsson, the former turned
round and presented to him and Biarne his friend Thorward, the captain
of the other ship.  Thorward was not a tall man, but was very broad and
stout, and had a firm yet pleasing cast of countenance.  Both Thorward
and Karlsefin were men of about thirty-five years of age.

"Are you not on viking-cruise?" asked Leif as they walked up to the
house together, while the male members of his household and the men of
the settlement assisted the crews to moor the ships.

"No; my friend Thorward and I are not men of war.  We prefer the
peaceful occupation of the merchant, and, to say truth, it is not
unprofitable."

"I would that more were of your way of thinking," said Leif.  "I do not
love the bloody game of war, and glad am I that we have got into a quiet
corner here in Greenland, where there is small occasion for it.  Biarne,
too, is of our way of thinking, as no doubt you already know."

"He has often told me so, and, if I mistake not, has feathered his nest
well by merchanting."

"He has," answered Biarne for himself, with a laugh.

While they thus advanced, talking, little Olaf had kept walking in front
of the tall stranger, looking up into his face with unbounded
admiration.  He had never before seen any man so magnificent.  His
father and Biarne, whom he had hitherto regarded as perfect specimens of
mankind, were quite eclipsed.  Looking backward and walking forward is
an unsafe process at any time.  So Olaf found it on the present
occasion, for he tripped over a stone and in falling hit his little nose
with such violence that it soon became a big nose, and bled profusely.

Karlsefin picked him up and set him on his legs.  "My poor boy, don't
cry," he said.

"No fear of _him_ crying," observed Leif; "he never cries,--save when
his feelings are hurt.  When you touch these he _is_ addicted to
blubbering.--Run, lad, and Gudrid will wash you."

Olaf bounded into the house, where he was carried off to a sleeping-room
and there carefully sponged by the sympathetic Gudrid.  "Oh!--" he
exclaimed, while his face was being washed.

"Does it pain you much, dear?" said the pretty aunt, interrupting him.

"Oh!" he continued, enthusiastically, "I never did see such a splendid
man before."

"What splendid man, child?"

"Why, Karlsefin."

"And who is Karlsefin?"

"The stranger who has come across the sea from Norway."

"Indeed," said Gudrid.

Whether it was the sound of the stranger's voice in the adjoining room,
or anxiety to complete her hospitable preparations, that caused Gudrid
to bring her operations on Olaf to an abrupt termination, we cannot
tell, but certain it is that she dried him rather quickly and hastened
into the outer hall, where she was introduced to the two strangers in
due form as widow Gudrid.

She had no difficulty in distinguishing which was Olaf's "splendid man!"
She looked at Karlsefin and fell in love with him on the spot, but
Gudrid was modest, and not sentimental.  It is only your mawkishly
sentimental people who are perpetually tumbling into love, and out of
it, and can't help showing it.  Cupid shot her right through the heart
with one powerful dart, and took her unawares too, but she did not show
the smallest symptom of having been even grazed.  She neither blushed
nor stammered, nor looked conscious, nor affected to look unconscious.
She was charmingly natural!

But this was not all: Karlsefin also fell in love on the spot,--over
head and ears and hair, and hat to boot; neither did he show sign of it!
After the trifling ceremonies usual on an introduction were over, he
turned to continue his conversation with Leif and paid no further
attention to Gudrid, while she busied herself in preparing supper.  It
is true that he looked at her now and then, but of course he looked at
everybody, now and then, in the course of the evening.  Besides, it is
well-known what is said about the rights of the feline species in
reference to royalty.  At supper Gudrid waited on the guests, Karlsefin
therefore, necessarily paid her somewhat more attention in accepting her
civilities, but Thorward was quite as attentive as he, so that the most
sharp-witted match-maker in the world would have failed to note any
symptom of anything whatever in regard to either of them.

Gudrid felt this a little, for she was accustomed to admiration from the
young men of Ericsfiord and Heriulfness, and, you know, people don't
like to want what they are accustomed to.  What Karlsefin thought, he
did not show and never mentioned, therefore we cannot tell.

Now, good reader, pray do not run away with the notion that this love
affair is the plot on which the story is to hinge!  Nothing of the kind.
It ran its course much more rapidly, and terminated much more abruptly,
than you probably suppose--as the sequel will show.

During supper there was not much conversation, for all were hungry, but
afterwards, when cans of home-brewed ale were handed round, the tongues
began to move.  Leif soon observed that Karlsefin merely sipped his
beer, but never once drank.

"You do not drink," he said, pushing a large silver tankard towards him;
"come, fill up."

"Thanks, I drink but sparingly," said Karlsefin, taking up the large
tankard and admiring the workmanship.

"In good sooth ye do," cried Biarne, with a laugh; "a mouse could hardly
slake his thirst with all that you have yet imbibed."

"I have been so long at sea," rejoined Karlsefin, smiling, "that I have
lost my relish for beer.  We had nothing but water with us.  Where got
you this tankard, Leif, it is very massive and the workmanship such as
one seldom meets with save in kings' houses?"

"It belonged to a king!" replied Leif, with a look of pride.  "Good King
Olaf Tryggvisson gave it to me on an occasion when I chanced to do him
some small service.  Many winters have passed since then."

"Indeed, Leif! then you must be a favourite with King Olaf," exclaimed
Karlsefin, "for I am the bearer of another gift to you from his royal
hand."

"To me?"

"Ay.  Hearing that I meant to sail over to Greenland this summer, he
asked me to bear you his remembrances, and gave me two slaves to present
to you in token of his continued friendship."

Leif's face beamed with satisfaction, and he immediately filled and
quaffed a bumper of ale to King Olaf's health, which example was
followed by Biarne and the guests, as well as by the house-carls who sat
on benches in various parts of the hall drinking their ale and listening
to the conversation.  Even little Olaf--who had been named after the
king of Norway--filled his tankard to the brim with milk, and quaffed it
off with a swagger that was worthy of a descendant of a long line of
sea-kings, who could trace their lineage back to Odin himself.

"The slaves," continued Karlsefin, "are from the land of the Scots.
Wouldst like to see a Scotsman, Gudrid?" he added, turning to the widow
who sat near him.

"I should like it much.  I have heard of the Scots in Iceland.  'Tis
said they are a well-favoured race, stout warriors, and somewhat fond of
trading."

Leif and Biarne both laughed loud and long at this.

"In good truth they are a stout race, and fight like very wild-cats, as
Biarne and I can testify; as to their being well-favoured, there can be
no question about that; though they are rather more rugged than the
people farther south, and--yes, they _are_ good traders, and exceedingly
cautious men.  They think well before they speak, and they speak
slowly--sometimes they won't speak at all.  Ha! ha!  Here, I drink to
the land of the Scot.  It is a grand good land, like our own dear old
Norway."

"Brother-in-law," exclaimed Gudrid, reproachfully, "do you forget that
you are an Icelander?"

"Forget!" exclaimed Leif, tossing back his yellow locks, and raising the
tankard again to pledge his native land; "no, I shall only forget
Iceland when I forget to live; but I don't forget, also, that it is only
about 130 years since my great-grandfather and his companions came over
from Norway to Iceland.  Before that it was an unpeopled rock in the
Northern Sea, without name or history.  [Iceland was colonised by
Norsemen about the year 874.] 'Twas as little known then as Vinland is
known now."

"By the way, Biarne," said Karlsefin, turning to his friend, "the
mention of Vinland reminds me that, when you and I met last, you did not
give me a full account of that discovery, seeing that you omitted to
mention your own share in it.  Tell me how was it, and when and where
was it?  Nay, have I unintentionally touched on a sore point?" he added,
on observing a slight shade of annoyance pass over Biarne's usually
cheerful countenance.

"He _is_ a little sore about it," said Leif, laughing.  "Come, Biarne,
don't be thin-skinned.  You know the saying, A dutiful son makes a glad
father.  You had the best of reasons for acting as you did."

"Ay, but people don't believe in these best of reasons," retorted
Biarne, still annoyed, though somewhat mollified by Leif's remarks.

"Never mind, 'tis long past now.  Come, give us the saga.  'Tis a good
one, and will bear re-telling."

"Oh yes," exclaimed Olaf, with sparkling eyes, for the boy dearly loved
anything that bore the faintest resemblance to a saga or story, "tell
it, Biarne."

"Not I," said Biarne; "Leif can tell it as well as I, if he chooses."

"Well, I'll try," said Leif, laying his huge hand on the table and
looking earnestly at Karlsefin and Thorward.  The latter was a very
silent man, and had scarcely uttered a word all the evening, but he
appeared to take peculiar interest in Vinland, and backed up the request
that Leif would give an account of its discovery.

"About twenty summers ago," said Leif, "my father, Eric the Red, and his
friend Heriulf, Biarne's father, came over here from Iceland.  [A.D.
986.] Biarne was a very young man at the time--little more than a boy--
but he was a man of enterprise, and fond of going abroad, and possessed
a merchant-ship of his own with which he gathered wealth, and, I will
say it, reputation also--though perhaps I should not say that to his
face.

"He was a good son, and used to be by turns a year abroad and a year
with his father.  He chanced to be away in Norway when Heriulf and my
father Eric came over to Greenland.  On returning to Iceland he was so
much disappointed to hear of his father's departure that he would not
unload his ship, but resolved to follow his old custom and take up his
winter abode with his father.  `Who will go with me to Greenland?' said
he to his men.  `We will all go,' replied the men.  `Our expedition,'
said Biarne, `will be thought foolish, as none of us have ever been on
the Greenland sea before.'  `We mind not that,' said the men--so away
they sailed for three days and lost sight of Iceland.  Then the wind
failed; after that a north wind and a fog set in, and they knew not
where they were sailing to; and this lasted many days.  At length the
sun appeared.  Then they knew the quarters of the sky, and, after
sailing a day and a night, made the land.

"They saw that it was without mountains, was covered with wood, and that
there were small hills inland.  Biarne saw that this did not answer to
the description of Greenland; he knew he was too far south, so he left
the land on the larboard side, and sailed two days and nights before
they got sight of land again.  The men asked Biarne if this was
Greenland, but he said it was not, `For on Greenland,' he says, `there
are great snowy mountains, but this is flat and covered with trees.'
Here the wind fell and the men wanted to go ashore, `Because,' said
they, `we have need of wood and water.'  Biarne replied, `Ye are not in
want of either;' and the men blamed him for this,--but the season was
far spent, he knew not how long it might take him to find Greenland, so
he had no time to spare.--Was it not so?" said Leif, appealing to his
friend.

"It was so," replied Biarne, nodding gravely.

"Well then," continued Leif, "it must be told that he ordered them to
hoist the sail, which they did, and, turning the bow from the land, kept
the sea for three days and nights, with a fine breeze from the
south-west, when a third time land was seen, with high snowy mountains.
Still Biarne would not land, for it was not like what had been reported
of Greenland.  They soon found it to be an island, and, turning from it,
stood out to sea, when the breeze increased to a gale, forcing them to
take in a reef; so they sailed for three days and nights more, and made
land the fourth time.  This turned out to be Greenland, and quite close
to Heriulf's dwelling at Heriulfness.  Biarne then gave up seafaring,
and dwelt with his old father as long as he lived; but since his death
he has been sometimes at sea and sometimes at home.  Now, these lands
which Biarne discovered, were what I have since called Vinland."

"Yes," exclaimed Biarne, with a look of indignation; "and when I
afterwards fared to Norway they blamed me for not going on shore and
exploring these lands--as if I, at the end of autumn, could afford to
put off time in explorations, when it was all I could do to make my port
before the winter set in!"  He finished off by striking the table with
his fist, seizing his tankard, and draining it to the bottom.

"I have often observed," said Karlsefin, quietly, "that people who sit
by their firesides at home, and do nothing, are usually very severe and
noisy in their remarks on those who fare abroad and do great things; but
that arises not so much from ill-will as ignorance."

"But what of your own doings, Leif?" said Thorward, breaking in here
impatiently.

"Well, I didn't do much," replied Leif.  "I only took possession, and
didn't keep it.  This was the way of it.  Fourteen years after this
voyage of Biarne, [about the year A.D. 1000] I was seized with a desire
to see these new lands.  I bought Biarne's ship from him, set sail with
a good crew, and found the lands, just as Biarne had described them, far
away to the south of Greenland.  I landed and gave names to some places.
At the farthest south point we built huts and spent the winter, but
returned home in spring.  I called this part Vinland, and this is the
reason why: We had a German with us named Tyrker, who is with me here
still.  One day Tyrker was lost; I was very anxious about him, fearing
that he had been killed by wild beasts or Skraelingers, [Esquimaux or
savages, probably Indians,] so I sent out parties to search.  In the
evening we found him coming home in a state of great excitement, having
found fruit which, he said, was grapes.  The sight and taste of the
fruit, to which he was used in his own land, had excited him to such an
extent that we thought he was drunk, and for some time he would do
nothing but laugh and devour grapes, and talk German, which none of us
understood.  At last he spoke Norse, and told us that he had found vines
and grapes in great abundance.  We found that this was true--at least we
found a berry which was quite new to us.  We went off next day, and,
gathering enough to load our boat, brought them away with us.  From this
circumstance I called it Vinland.  Two years after that my brother
Thorwald went to Vinland, wintered three years there, was killed by the
Skraelingers, and his men returned to Greenland.  Then my youngest
brother, Thorstein, who was Gudrid's husband, went off to Vinland to
fetch home the body of our brother Thorwald, but was driven back by
stress of weather.  He was taken ill soon after that, and died.  Since
then Gudrid has dwelt with my household, and glad we are to have her.
This is the whole story of Vinland; so if you want to know more about it
you must e'en go on a voyage of discovery for yourself."

"I should like nothing better," replied Karlsefin, "if I could only--"

At that moment the door was burst violently open, and a man with
bloodshot eyes and labouring breath rushed in exclaiming, "The
Skraelinger! the Skraelinger are upon us!"



CHAPTER THREE.

DARK WAR-CLOUDS LOWER, BUT CLEAR AWAY WITHOUT A SHOWER--VOICES AND LEGS
DO GOOD SERVICE.

"Up, carls, buckle on your war-gear!" cried Leif, rising hastily on
hearing the announcement with which the last chapter ended.

"Run, Thorward, call out our men," whispered Karlsefin; "I will stay to
learn what Leif means to do.  Bring them all up to the door."

Thorward was gone almost before the sentence was finished.  Leif and his
house-carls, of whom there were ten present at the time, did not take
long to busk them for the fight.  The Norse of old were born, bred, and
buried--if they escaped being killed and cut to pieces--in the midst of
alarms.  Their armour was easily donned, and not very cumbrous.  Even
while Leif was giving the first order to his men, Gudrid had run to the
peg on which hung his sword and helmet, and brought him these implements
of war.

"My men and I shall be able to render you some service, Leif," said
Karlsefin; "what do you intend to do?"

"Do!" exclaimed Leif with a grim laugh, as he buckled on his sword,
"why, I shall give the Skraelingers a tremendous fright, that is all.
The rascals!  They knew well that we were short-handed just now, and
thought to take advantage of us; but hah! they do not seem to be aware
that we chance to have stout visitors with us to-night.  So, lads,
follow me."

Biarne, meanwhile, had darted out on the first alarm, and assembled all
the men in the settlement, so that when Leif, Karlsefin, and the
housemen issued out of the cottage they found about a dozen men
assembled, and others running up every moment to join them.  Before
these were put in array most of the men of Karlsefin's ship, numbering
forty, and those belonging to Thorward, numbering thirty, came up, so
that when all were mustered they were little if at all short of one
hundred stout warriors.

The moon came out brightly at the time, and Leif chuckled as he watched
Biarne put the men hastily into marching order.

"Methought you said that war was distasteful," observed Karlsefin, in
some surprise.

"So it is, so it is, friend," replied Leif, still laughing in a low
tone; "but there will be no war to-night.  Leave your bows behind you,
lads," he added, addressing the men; "you won't want them; shield and
sword will be enough.  For the matter of that, we might do without both.
Now, lads, follow my leading, and do as I bid you; advance with as
little noise as may be."

So saying, Leif led the way out of the little hamlet towards the
extremity of the ridge or spur of the mountains that sheltered
Ericsfiord from the north-west.

Towards that same extremity another band of men were hastening on the
other side of the ridge.  It was a band of our hairy friends whom the
Norsemen called Skraelingers.

Truly there was something grand in the look and bearing of the tall man
with the flat face, as he led his band to attack the warlike Norsemen,
and there was something almost sublime in the savage, resolute aspect of
the men who followed him--each being armed with a large walrus spear,
and each being, moreover, an adept in the use of it.

Flatface (in default of a better, let that name stick to him) had
ascertained beyond a doubt that the entire available force of Norsemen
in Ericsfiord had, in consequence of fishing and other expeditions, been
reduced to barely thirty fighting men.  He himself could muster a band
of at least one hundred and fifty good men and true--not to mention
hairy, a hundred and fifty seals having unwillingly contributed their
coats to cover these bloodthirsty Skraelingers.  The Norsemen, Flatface
knew, were strong men and bold, besides being large, but he resolved to
take them by surprise, and surely (he argued with himself) a hundred and
fifty brave men with spears will be more than a match for thirty sleepy
men unarmed and in bed!

Flatface had screwed himself up with such considerations; made a few
more inflammatory speeches to his men, by way of screwing them up also,
and then, a little before midnight, set forth on his expedition.

Now it chanced that there was a man among the Norsemen who was a great
hunter and trapper.  His name was Tyrker--the same Tyrker mentioned by
Leif as being the man who had found grapes in Vinland.  Leif said he was
a German, but he said so on no better authority than the fact that he
had originally come to Norway from the south of Europe.  It is much more
probable that he was a Turk, for, whereas the Germans are known to be a
well-sized handsome race of fair men, this Tyrker was an ugly little
dark wiry fellow, with a high forehead, sharp eyes, and a small face;
but he was extremely active, and, although an elderly man, few of the
youths in Ericsfiord could beat him at feats requiring dexterity.

But, whether German or Turk, Tyrker was an enthusiastic trapper of
white, or arctic foxes.  These creatures being very numerous in that
part of Greenland, he was wont to go out at all hours, late and early,
to visit his traps.  Hence it happened that, on the night in question,
Tyrker found himself in company with two captured arctic foxes at, the
extremity of the mountain spur before referred to.

He could see round the corner of the spur into the country beyond, but
as the country there was not attractive, even at its best, he paid no
attention to it.  He chanced, however, to cast upon it one glance after
setting his traps, just as he was about to return home.  That glance
called forth a steady look, which was followed by a stare of surprise,
and the deep guttural utterance of the word "zz-grandimaghowl!" which,
no doubt, was Turkish, at that ancient date, for "hallo!"

It was the band of hairy creatures that had met his astonished sight.
Tyrker shrank behind the spur and peeped round it for a few seconds to
make quite sure.  Then, turning and creeping fairly out of sight, he
rose and bounded back to the hamlet, as though he had been a youth of
twenty.  As we have seen, he arrived, gasping, in time to warn his
friends.

Between the hamlet and the spur where Tyrker's traps were set there were
several promontories, or projections from the cliffs, all of which had
to be passed before the spur came in view.  Leif led his men past the
first and second of these at a run.  Then, believing that he had gone
far enough, he ordered his band to draw close up under the cliffs, where
the shadow was deepest, saying that he would go alone in advance to
reconnoitre.

"And mark me, lads," he said, "when I give a loud sneeze, do you give
vent to a roar that will only stop short of splitting your lungs; then
give chase, and yell to your hearts' content as you run; but see to it
that ye keep together and that no man runs past _me_.  There is plenty
of moonlight to let you see what you're about.  If any man tries to
overshoot me in the race I'll hew off his head."

This last remark was no figure of speech.  In those days men were but
too well accustomed to hewing off heads.  Leif meant to have his orders
attended to, and the men understood him.

On reaching the second projection of cliff after leaving his men, Leif
peeped round cautiously and beheld the advancing Skraelingers several
hundred yards off.  He returned at once to his men and took up a
position at their head in the deep shadow of the cliffs.

Although absolutely invisible themselves, the Norsemen could see the
Skraelingers quite plainly in the moonlight, as they came slowly and
with great caution round each turn of the footpath that led to the
hamlet.  There was something quite awe-inspiring in the manner of their
approach.  Evidently Flatface dreaded a surprise, for he put each leg
very slowly in advance of the other, and went on tiptoe, glancing
quickly on either side between each step.  His followers--in a compact
body, in deep silence and with bated breath--followed his steps and his
example.

When they came to the place where the men crouched in ambush, Leif took
up a large stone and cast it high over their heads.  So quietly was this
done that none even of his own party heard him move or saw the stone,
though they heard it fall with a _thud_ on the sand beyond.

The Skraelingers heard it too, and stopped abruptly--each man on one
leg, with the other leg and his arms more or less extended, just as if
he had been suddenly petrified.  So in truth he had been--with horror!

To meet an open enemy, however powerful, would have been a pleasure
compared with that slow nervous advance in the midst of such dead
silence!  As nothing followed the sound, however, the suspended legs
began to descend slowly again towards the ground, when Leif sneezed!

If Greenland's icy mountains had become one monstrous polar bear, whose
powers of voice, frozen for prolonged ages, had at last found vent that
night in one concentrated roar, the noise could scarcely have excelled
that which instantly exploded from the Norsemen.

The effect on the Skraelingers was almost miraculous.  A bomb-shell
bursting in the midst of a hundred and fifty Kilkenny cats could not
have been more effective, and the result would certainly have borne some
marks of resemblance.  Each hairy creature sprang nearly his own height
into the air, and wriggled while there, as if impatient to turn and fly
before reaching the ground.  Earth regained, the more active among them
overshot and overturned the clumsy, whereby fifty or sixty were
instantly cast down, but these rose again like spring-jacks and fled,
followed by a roar of laughter from their foes, which, mingled as it was
with howls and yells, did infinitely more to appal the Skraelingers than
the most savage war-cry could have done.

But they were followed by more than laughter.  The Norsemen immediately
gave chase--still yelling and roaring as they ran, for Leif set the
example, and his followers remembered his threat.

Karlsefin and Biarne kept one on each side of Leif, about a pace behind
him.

"If they fight as well as they run," observed the former, "they must be
troublesome neighbours."

"They are not bad fighters," replied Leif; "but sometimes they deem it
wise to run."

"Not unlike to other people in that respect," said Biarne; "but it seems
to me that we might overhaul them if we were to push on."

He shot up to Leif as he spoke, but the latter checked him.

"Hold back, Biarne; I mean them no harm, and wish no bloodshed--only
they must have a good fright.  The lads, no doubt, would like to run in
and make short work of them; but I intend to breathe the lads, which
will in the end do just as well as fighting to relieve their feelings.--
Enough.  It is ill talking and running."

They were silent after that, and ran thus for fully an hour, at nearly
the top of their speed.  But Leif sometimes checked his men, and
sometimes urged them on, so that they fancied he was chasing with full
intent to run the Skraelingers down.  When the fugitives showed signs of
flagging, he uttered a tremendous roar, and his men echoed it, sending
such a thrill to the hearts of the Skraelingers that they seemed to
recover fresh wind and strength; then he pushed after them harder than
ever, and so managed that, without catching or killing one, he terrified
them almost out of their wits, and ran them nearly to death.

At last they came to a place where there was an abrupt bend in the
mountains.  Here Leif resolved to let them go.  When they were pretty
near the cliff round which the path turned, he put on what, in modern
sporting phraseology, is termed a spurt, and came up so close with the
flying band that those in rear began to glance despairingly over their
shoulders.  Suddenly Leif gave vent to a roar, into which he threw all
his remaining strength.  It was taken up and prolonged by his men.  The
horror-struck Skraelingers shrieked in reply, swept like a torrent round
the projecting cliff, and disappeared!

Leif stopped at once, and held up his hand.  All his men stopped short
also, and though they heard the Skraelingers still howling as they fled,
no one followed them any farther.  Indeed, most of the Norsemen were
panting vehemently, and rather glad than otherwise to be allowed to
halt.

There were, however, two young men among them--tall, strong-boned, and
thin, but with broad shoulders, and grave, earnest, though not exactly
handsome countenances--who appeared to be perfectly cool and in good
wind after their long run.  Leif noticed them at once.

"Yonder youths seem to think little of this sort of thing," he said to
Karlsefin.

"You are right, Leif; it is mere child's play to them.  These are the
two Scots--the famous runners--whom I was charged by King Olaf to
present to you.  Why, these men, I'll engage to say, could overtake the
Skraelingers even yet, if they chose."

"Say you so?" cried Leif.  "Do they speak Norse?"

"Yes; excellently well."

"Their names?"

"The one is Heika, the other Hake."

"Ho!  Hake and Heika, come hither," cried Leif, beckoning to the men,
and hastening round the point, where the Skraelingers could be seen
nearly a mile off, and still running as if all the evil spirits of the
North were after them.

"See there, carls; think you that ye could overtake these rascals?"

The Scots looked at each other, nodded, smiled, and said they thought
they could.

"Do it, then.  Let them see how you can use your legs, and give them a
shout as you draw near; but have a care: do them no hurt, and see that
they do no injury to you.  Take no arms; your legs must suffice on this
occasion."

The Scots looked again at each other, and laughed, as if they enjoyed
the joke; then they started off like a couple of deer at a pace which no
Norseman legs had ever before equalled, or even approached.

Leif, Biarne, and the men gazed in speechless wonder, much to the
amusement of Karlsefin and Thorward, while Hake and Heika made straight
for the flying band and came up with them.  They shouted wildly as they
drew near.  The Skraelingers looked back, and seeing only two unarmed
men, stopped to receive them.

"As the saying goes," remarked Biarne, "a stern chase is a long one; but
to-night proves the truth of that other saying, that there is no rule
without an exception."

"What are they doing now?" cried Leif, laughing.  "See--they are mad!"

Truly it seemed as if they were; for, after separating and coursing
twice completely round the astonished natives, the two Scots performed a
species of war-dance before them, which had a sort of fling about it,
more easily conceived than described.  In the middle of this they made a
dart at the group so sudden and swift that Hake managed to overturn
Flatface with a tremendous buffet, and Heika did the same to his second
in command with an energetic cuff.  The Skraelingers were taken so
thoroughly by surprise that the Scots had sheered off and got out of
reach before a spear could be thrown.

Of course a furious rush was made at them, but the hairy men might as
well have chased the wind.  After tormenting and tantalising them a
little longer, the Scots returned at full speed to their friends, and
the Skraelingers, glad to be rid of them, hastened to seek the shelter
of the gloomy gorge from which they had originally issued, "like a wolf
on the fold."



CHAPTER FOUR.

IMPORTANT EVENTS TRANSPIRE, WHICH END IN A VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY.

Some weeks afterwards, Karlsefin and Gudrid went down to walk together
on the sea-beach.  It would appear that lovers were as fond of rambling
together in those olden times as they are in these modern days.  It was
evening when they went to ramble thus--another evidence of similarity in
taste between the moderns and ancients.

"Karlsefin," said Gudrid, stopping at the margin of the fiord, and
looking pensively towards the horizon, where golden clouds and air and
sea appeared to mingle harmoniously, "I wonder that you, with good ships
and many stout men and plenty of means, should choose to remain in this
barren spot, instead of searching out the famous Vinland and making a
settlement there."

"This barren spot is very bright to me, Gudrid; I have no desire to
leave it yet a while.  Since you and I were betrothed the ocean has lost
its attractions.  Besides, would you have me set out on a voyage of
discovery at the beginning of winter."

"Nay; but you do not even talk about going when spring comes round."

"Because I have other things to talk of, Gudrid."

"I fear me that you are a lazy man," returned the widow, with a smile,
"and will prove but a sorry husband.  Just think," she added, with
sudden animation, "what a splendid country it must be; and what a
desirable change for all of us.  Thick and leafy woods like those of old
Norway, instead of these rugged cliffs and snow-clad hills.  Fields of
waving grass and rye, instead of moss-covered rocks and sandy soil.
Trees large enough to build houses and merchant-ships, instead of willow
bushes that are fit for nothing except to save our poor cattle from
starvation when the hay crop runs out; besides, longer sunshine in
winter and more genial warmth all the year round, instead of howling
winds and ice and snow.  Truly I think our adopted home here has been
woefully misnamed."

"And yet I love it, Gudrid, for I find the atmosphere genial and the
sunshine very bright."

"Foolish man!" said Gudrid, with a little laugh.  "And then," she added,
recurring to her theme, "there are grapes,--though, to be sure, I know
not what these are, never having tasted them.  Biarne says they are very
good--do you think so too?"

"They are magnificent," answered Karlsefin.  "In southern lands, where
Tyrker comes from, they have a process whereby they can make a drink
from grapes, which maddens youth and quickens the pulse of age,--
something like our own beer."

"It does not please me to hear that," replied Gudrid gravely; "some of
our carls are too fond of beer.  When old Heriulf was sick, a little of
it did him good, and when Eric the Red was in his last days he seemed to
gather a little strength and comfort from beer; but I never could
perceive that it ever did anything to young men except make them boast,
and talk nonsense, and look foolish,--or, what is worse, quarrel and
fight."

"Right, Gudrid, right," said Karlsefin; "my opinion at least is the same
as yours, whether it be right or wrong.  There is some reason in
applying heat to cold, but it seems to me unnecessary to add heat to
warmth, artificial strength to natural vigour, and it is dangerous
sometimes to add fuel to fire.  I am glad you think as I think on this
point, for it is well that man and wife should be agreed in matters of
importance.--But to return to Vinland: I have been thinking much about
it since I came here, though saying little,--for it becomes a man to be
silent and circumspect in regard to unformed plans.  My mind is to go
thither next spring, but only on one condition."

"And what may that be?" asked Gudrid, looking up with a little surprise,
and some interest.

"That you shall go with me, Gudrid; for which end it will be needful
that you and I should wed this winter."

Gudrid could not help blushing a little and looking down, for Karlsefin,
despite his suavity, had a way with him, when thoroughly in earnest,
that was very impressive.  She did not hesitate, however, but answered
with straightforward candour, "I will not say nay to that if my brother
Leif is willing."

"It is settled then," replied Karlsefin decisively, "for Leif has
already told me that he is willing if you are, and so--"

At this interesting point in the conversation they were interrupted by a
loud merry laugh not very far from them, and next moment little Olaf,
starting out from behind a bush, ran shouting into Gudrid's extended
arms.  "Oh, what do you think?" he exclaimed, "aunt Freydissa has come
over from Heriulfness, and is in _such_ a rage because Biarne has told
her that Thorward has been making love to his cousin Astrid, and--"

"Hush, boy," said Gudrid, covering his mouth with her hand, "you should
not talk so of your aunt.  Besides, you know that it is an evil thing to
get the name of a tale-bearer."

"I did not think it was tale-bearing," replied the lad, somewhat
abashed, "for it is no secret.  Leif was there, and Astrid herself, and
all the house-carls in the hall must have heard her, for she spoke very
loud.  And oh! you should have seen her give Thorward the cold shoulder
when he came in!"

"Well, well, Olaf, hold your noisy tongue," said Gudrid, laughing, "and
come, tell me how would you like to go to Vinland?"

"Like to go to Vinland!" echoed the boy, turning an ardent gaze full on
Karlsefin, "are you going there, sir?  Will you take _me_?"

Karlsefin laughed, and said, "You are too quick in jumping to
conclusions, child.  Perhaps I may go there; but you have not yet
answered Gudrid's question--would you like to go?"

"I would like it well," replied Olaf, with a bright look of hopeful
expectation that said far more than words could have expressed.

Just then Thorward was seen approaching along the beach.  His brows were
knit, his lips pursed, and his eyes fixed on the ground.  He was so
engrossed with his thoughts that he did not perceive his friends.

"Here he comes," said Karlsefin--"in the blues evidently, for he does
not see us."

"We had better leave you to his company," said Gudrid, laughing; "a man
i' the blues is no pleasure to a woman.--Come, Olaf, you and I shall to
the dairy and see how the cattle fare."

Olaf's capacity for imbibing milk and cream being unlimited, he gladly
accepted this invitation, and followed his aunt, while Karlsefin
advanced to meet his friend.

"How now, Thorward, methinks an evil spirit doth possess thee!"

"An evil spirit!" echoed Thorward, with a wrathful look; "nay, a legion
of evil spirits possess me!  A plague on that fellow Biarne: he has
poisoned the ears of Freydissa with lies about that girl Astrid, to whom
I have never whispered a sweet word since we landed."

"I trust you have not whispered sour words to her," said Karlsefin,
smiling.

"And Freydissa, forsooth, gives me the cold shoulder," continued the
exasperated Norseman, not noticing the interruption, "as if I were
proved guilty by the mere assertion."

"It is my advice to you, Thorward, that you return the compliment, and
give the cold shoulder to Freydissa.  The woman has a shrewish temper;
she is a very vixen, and will lead you the life of a dog if you marry
her."

"I had rather," said Thorward between his teeth, and stamping, "live a
dog's life with Freydissa than live the life of a king without her!"

Karlsefin laughed at this, and Thorward, taking offence, said fierily,
and with some scorn--"Thinkest thou that because thy Gudrid is so
smooth-tongued she is an angel?"

"That is what I am inclined to think," answered Karlsefin, with a smile
that still further exasperated his friend.

"Perchance you may find yourself mistaken," said Thorward.  "Since you
are so free with your warnings, let me remind you that although the
course of your courtship runs smooth, there is an old proverb--descended
from Odin himself, I believe--which assures us that _true_ love never
did so run."

"Then I recall my words, Thorward, and congratulate you on your true
love--for assuredly your courtship runs in an uncommonly rugged course."

At this Thorward turned on his heel and walked away in a towering
passion.

It so happened that, on drawing near to Brattalid, he met Biarne coming
in the opposite direction.  Nothing could have pleased him better--for
in the state of his mind at the time he would have turned savagely on
himself, had that been possible, in order to relieve his feelings.

"So!" he cried, confronting Biarne, "well met!  Tell me, Biarne, didst
thou poison the ears of Freydissa by telling her that I had been
courting thy cousin Astrid?"

Biarne, who was not aware of the consequences of what he had said in
jest, felt inclined to laugh, but he checked himself and flushed
somewhat, not being accustomed to be addressed in such haughty tones.
Instead of explaining the matter, as he might otherwise have done, he
merely said, "I did."

"Liar!" exclaimed Thorward fiercely, for he was a very resolute man when
roused; "go, tell her that the assertion was a falsehood.  Go _now_, and
come back to tell me thou hast done it, else will I chop thy carcase
into mince-meat.  Go; I will await thee here."

He laid his hand upon his sword, but Biarne said quietly, "I go, sir;"
and, turning round, hastened up to the hamlet.

Thorward could scarcely believe his eyes, for Biarne was fully as stout
as himself, and somewhat taller, besides having the look of a courageous
man.  He had issued his imperative mandate more as a defiance and
challenge than anything else, so that he gazed after the retreating
Biarne with mingled feelings of surprise, contempt, and pity; but
surprise predominated.  He had not long to wait, however, for in about
ten minutes Biarne returned.

"Well, have you told her?"

"I have," replied Biarne.

"Hah!" exclaimed Thorward, very much perplexed, and not knowing what to
say next.

"But, Thorward," said Biarne, after a momentary pause, "methinks that
you and I must fight now."

"With all my heart," answered Thorward, much relieved, and again
grasping his sword.

"Nay, not with such weapons," said Biarne, stepping up to him, "but with
the weapons of friendship."

With that he bestowed such a hearty buffet on Thorward's left ear that
it turned the irascible man head over heels, and laid him at full length
on the sand.

Thorward rose slowly, being somewhat stunned, with a confused impression
that there was something wrong with his head.  Before he had quite
recovered, Biarne burst into a laugh and seized him by the hand.

"Freydissa bids me tell you--" he said, and paused.

The pause was intentional.  He saw that Thorward was on the point of
snatching away his hand and returning the blow or drawing his sword; but
he restrained himself in order to hear Freydissa's message.

"She bids me tell you," repeated Biarne, "that you are a goose."

This was not calculated to soothe an angry man, but Thorward reflected
that the epithet was figurative, and bore a peculiar signification when
uttered by a woman; he therefore continued his self-restraint and waited
for more.

"She also said," added Biarne, "that she never for a moment believed my
statement (which, by the way, was only made in jest), and that she
thinks you deserve a good buffet on the ear for taking the thing up so
hotly.  Agreeing with her entirely in this, I have fulfilled her wish
and given you your deserts.  Moreover, she expects you to accompany her
to Heriulfness to-night.  So now," said Biarne, releasing Thorward's
hand and touching his sword-hilt, "if you are still inclined--."

"Well, well," said Thorward, whose visage, while his friend was
speaking, had undergone a series of contortions indicative of a wild
conflict of feelings in his breast, "well, well, I am a goose, and
deserved the buffet.  After all, I did call you a liar, so we are quits,
Biarne--tit for tat.  Come, let us shake hands and go up to Leif's
cottage.  You said Freydissa was there, I think."

During that winter Karlsefin married Gudrid and Thorward Freydissa, and,
in the following spring, they embarked in Karlsefin's ship--with a large
party of men, women, children, and cattle--and set sail for Vinland.



CHAPTER FIVE.

FREYDISSA SHOWS HER TEMPER AND A WHALE CHECKS IT--POETICAL AND OTHER
TOUCHES.

The expedition which now set out for Vinland was on a much larger scale
than any of the expeditions which had preceded it.  Biarne and Leif had
acted the part of discoverers only--not colonisers--and although
previous parties had passed several winters in Vinland, they had not
intended to take up a permanent abode there--as was plain from the fact
that they brought neither women nor flocks nor herds with them.
Karlsefin, on the contrary, went forth fully equipped for colonisation.

His ship, as we have said, was a large one, with a decked poop and
forecastle, fitted to brave the most tempestuous weather--at least as
well fitted to do so as were the ships of Columbus--and capable of
accommodating more than a hundred people.  He took sixty men with him
and five women, besides his own wife and Thorward's.  Thorward himself,
and Biarne, accompanied the expedition, and also Olaf--to his
inexpressible joy, but Leif preferred to remain at home, and promised to
take good care of Thorward's ship, which was left behind.  Astrid was
one of the five women who went with this expedition; the other four were
Gunhild, Thora, Sigrid, and Bertha.  Gunhild and Sigrid were wives to
two of Biarne's men.  Thora was handmaiden to Gudrid; Bertha handmaid to
Freydissa.  Of all the women Bertha was the sweetest and most beautiful,
and she was also very modest and good-tempered, which was a fortunate
circumstance, because her mistress Freydissa had temper enough, as
Biarne used to remark, for a dozen women.  Biarne was fond of teasing
Freydissa; but she liked Biarne, and sometimes took his pleasantries
well--sometimes ill.

It was intended that, when the colony was fairly established, the ship
should be sent back to Greenland to fetch more of the men's wives and
children.

A number of cattle, horses, and sheep were also carried on this occasion
to Vinland.  These were stowed in the waist or middle of the vessel,
between the benches where the rowers sat when at work.  The rowers did
not labour much at sea, as the vessel was at most times able to advance
under sail.  During calms, however, and when going into creeks, or on
landing--also in doubling capes when the wind was not suitable--the oars
were of the greatest value.  Karlsefin and the principal people slept
under the high poop.  A number of the men slept under the forecastle,
and the rest lay in the waist near the cattle--sheltered from the
weather by tents or awnings which were called tilts.

It may perhaps surprise some readers to learn that men could venture in
such vessels to cross the northern seas from Norway to Iceland, and
thence to Greenland; but it is not so surprising when we consider the
small size of the vessels in which Columbus afterwards crossed the
Atlantic in safety, and when we reflect that those Norsemen had been
long accustomed, in such vessels, to traverse the ocean around the
coasts of Europe in all directions--round the shores of Britain, up the
Baltic, away to the Faroe Islands, and up the Mediterranean even as far
as the Black Sea.  In short, the Norsemen of old were magnificent
seamen, and there can be no question that much of the ultimate success
of Britain on the sea is due, not only to our insular position, but also
to the insufficiently appreciated fact that the blood of the hardy and
adventurous vikings of Norway still flows in our veins.

It was a splendid spring morning when Karlsefin hoisted his
white-and-blue sail, and dropped down Ericsfiord with a favouring
breeze, while Leif and his people stood on the stone jetty at Brattalid,
and waved hats and shawls to their departing friends.

For Olaf, Thora, and Bertha it was a first voyage, and as the vessel
gradually left the land behind, the latter stood at the stern gazing
wistfully towards the shore, while tears flowed from her pretty blue
eyes and chased each other over her fair round face--for Bertha left an
old father behind her in Greenland.

"Don't cry, Bertha," said Olaf, putting his fat little hand softly into
that of the young girl.

"Oh!  I shall perhaps _never_ see him again," cried Bertha, with another
burst of tears.

"Yes, you will," said Olaf, cheerily.  "You know that when we get
comfortably settled in Vinland we shall send the ship back for your
father, and mine too, and for everybody in Ericsfiord and Heriulfness.
Why, we're going to forsake Greenland altogether and never go back to it
any more.  Oh!  I am _so_ glad."

"I wish, I _wish_ I had never come," said Bertha, with a renewed flow of
tears, for Olaf's consolations were thrown away on her.

It chanced that Freydissa came at that moment upon the poop, where
Karlsefin stood at the helm, and Gudrid with some others were still
gazing at the distant shore.

Freydissa was one of those women who appear to have been born women by
mistake--who are always chafing at their unfortunate fate, and
endeavouring to emulate--even to overwhelm--men; in which latter effort
they are too frequently successful.  She was a tall elegant woman of
about thirty years of age, with a decidedly handsome face, though
somewhat sharp of feature.  She possessed a powerful will, a shrill
voice and a vigorous frame, and was afflicted with a short, violent
temper.  She was decidedly a masculine woman.  We know not which is the
more disagreeable of the two--a masculine woman or an effeminate man.

But perhaps the most prominent feature in her character was her
volubility when enraged,--the copiousness of her vocabulary and the
tremendous force with which she shot forth her ideas and abuse in short
abrupt sentences.

Now, if there was one thing more than another that roused the ire of
Freydissa, it was the exhibition of feminine weakness in the shape of
tears.  She appeared to think that the credit of her sex in reference to
firmness and self-command was compromised by such weakness.  She herself
never wept by any chance, and she was always enraged when she saw any
other woman relieve her feelings in that way.  When, therefore, she came
on deck and found her own handmaid with her pretty little face swelled,
or, as she expressed it, "begrutten," and heard her express a wish that
she had never left home, she lost command of herself--a loss that she
always found it easy to come by--and, seizing Bertha by the shoulder,
ordered her down into the cabin instantly.

Bertha sobbingly obeyed, and Freydissa followed.  "Don't be hard on her,
poor soul," murmured Thorward.

Foolish fellow!  How difficult it is for man--ancient or modern--to
learn when to hold his tongue!  That suggestion would have fixed
Freydissa's determination if it had not been fixed before, and poor
Bertha would certainly have received "a hearing," or a "blowing-up," or
a "setting down," such as she had not enjoyed since the date of
Freydissa's marriage, had it not been for the fortunate circumstance
that a whale took it into its great thick head to come up, just then,
and spout magnificently quite close to the vessel.

The sight was received with a shout by the men, a shriller shout by the
women, and a screech of surprise and delight by little Olaf, who would
certainly have gone over the side in his eagerness, had not Biarne
caught him by the skirts of his tunic.

This incident happily diverted the course of Freydissa's thoughts.
Curiosity overcame indignation, and Bertha was reprieved for the time
being.  Both mistress and maid hastened to the side of the ship; the
anger of the one evaporated and the tears of the other dried up when
they saw the whale rise not more than a hundred yards from the ship.  It
continued to do this for a considerable time, sometimes appearing on one
side, sometimes on the other; now at the stern, anon at the bow.  In
short it seemed as if the whale had taken the ship for a companion, and
were anxious to make its acquaintance.  At last it went down and
remained under water so long that the voyagers began to think it had
left them, when Olaf suddenly gave a shriek of delight and
surprise:--"Oh!  Oh!  OH!" he exclaimed, looking and pointing straight
down into the water, "here is the whale--right under the ship!"

And sure enough there it was, swimming slowly under the vessel, not two
fathoms below the keel--its immense bulk being impressively visible,
owing to the position of the observers, and its round eyes staring as if
in astonishment at the strange creature above.  [The author has seen a
whale in precisely similar circumstances in a Norwegian fiord.] It
expressed this astonishment, or whatever feeling it might be, by coming
up suddenly to the surface, thrusting its big blunt head, like the bow
of a boat, out of the sea, and spouting forth a column of water and
spray with a deep snort or snore--to the great admiration of the whole
ship's crew, for, although most of the men were familiar enough with
whales, alive and dead, they had never, in all probability, seen one in
such circumstances before.

Four or five times did the whale dive under the vessel in this fashion,
and then it sheered off with a contemptuous flourish of its tail, as if
disgusted with the stolid unsociable character of the ship, which seen
from a submarine point of view must have looked uncommonly like a whale,
and quite as big!

This episode, occurring so early in the voyage, and trifling though it
was, tended to create in the minds of all--especially of the women and
the younger people--a feeling of interest in the ocean, and an
expectation of coming adventure, which, though not well defined, was
slightly exciting and agreeable.  Bertha, in particular, was very
grateful to that whale, for it had not only diverted her thoughts a
little from home-leaving and given her something new to think and talk
about, but it had saved her from Freydissa and a severe scold.

The first night at sea was fine, with bright moonlight, and a soft wind
on the quarter that carried them pleasantly over the rippling sea, and
everything was so tranquil and captivating that no one felt inclined to
go to rest.  Karlsefin sat beside the helm, guiding the ship and telling
sagas to the group of friends who stood, sat, or reclined on the deck
and against the bulwarks of the high poop.  He repeated long pieces of
poetry, descriptive of the battles and adventures of their viking
forefathers, and also gave them occasional pieces of his own composing,
in reference to surrounding circumstances and the enterprise in which
they were then embarked,--for Karlsefin was himself a skald or poet,
although he pretended not to great attainments in that way.

From where they sat the party on the poop could see that the men on the
high forecastle were similarly engaged, for they had gathered together
in a group, and their heads were laid together as if listening intently
to one of their number who sat in the centre of the circle.  Below, in
the waist of the ship, some humorous character appeared to be holding
his mates enchained, for long periods of comparative silence--in which
could be heard the monotonous tones of a single voice mingled with
occasional soft lowing from the cattle--were suddenly broken by bursts
of uproarious laughter, which, however, quickly subsided again, leaving
prominent the occasional lowing and the prolonged monotone.  Everything
in and around the ship, that night, breathed of harmony and peace--
though there was little knowledge among them of Him who is the Prince of
Peace.  We say "little" knowledge, because Christianity had only just
begun to dawn among the Norsemen at that time, and there were some on
board of that discovery-ship who were tinged with the first rays of that
sweet light which, in the person of the Son of God, was sent to lighten
the world and to shine more and more unto the perfect day.

"Now," said Karlsefin, at the conclusion of one of his stories, "that is
the saga of Halfdan the Black--at least it is part of his saga; but,
friends, it seems to me that we must begin a saga of our own, for it is
evident that if we are successful in this venture we shall have
something to relate when we return to Greenland, and we must all learn
to tell our saga in the same words, for that is the only way in which
_truth_ can be handed down to future generations, seeing that when men
are careless in learning the truth they are apt to distort it so that
honest men are led into telling lies unwittingly.  They say that the
nations of the south have invented a process whereby with a
sharp-pointed tool they fashion marks on skins to represent words, so
that once put down in this way a saga never changes.  Would that we
Norsemen understood that process!" said Karlsefin meditatively.

"It seems to me," said Biarne, who reclined on the deck, leaning against
the weather-bulwarks and running his fingers playfully through Olaf's
fair curls, "It seems to me that it were better to bestow the craft of
the skald on the record of our voyage, for then the measure and the
rhyme would chain men to the words, and so to the truth--that is,
supposing they get truth to start with!  Come, Karlsefin, begin our
voyage for us."

All present seemed to agree to that proposal, and urged Karlsefin to
begin at once.

The skipper--for such indeed was his position in the ship--though a
modest man, was by no means bashful, therefore, after looking round upon
the moonlit sea for a few minutes, he began as follows:--

  "When western waves were all unknown,
  And western fields were all unsown,
  When Iceland was the outmost bound
  That roving viking-keels had found--
  Gunbiorn then--Ulf Kraka's son--
  Still farther west was forced to run
  By furious gales, and there saw land
  Stretching abroad on either hand.
  Eric of Iceland, called the Red,
  Heard of the news and straightway said--
  `This western land I'll go and see;
  Three summers hence look out for me.'
  He went; he landed; stayed awhile,
  And wintered first on `Eric's Isle;'
  Then searched the coast both far and wide,
  Then back to Iceland o'er the tide.
  `A wondrous land is this,' said he,
  And called it Greenland of the sea.
  Twenty and five great ships sailed west
  To claim this gem on Ocean's breast.
  With man and woman, horn and hoof,
  And bigging for the homestead roof.
  Some turned back--in heart but mice--
  Some sank amid the Northern ice.
  Half reached the land, in much distress,
  At Ericsfiord and Heriulfness.
  Next, Biarne--Heriulf's doughty son--
  Sought to trace out the aged one.  [His father.]
  From Norway sailed, but missed his mark;
  Passed snow-topped Greenland in the dark;
  And came then to a new-found land--
  But did not touch the tempting strand;
  For winter winds oppressed him sore
  And kept him from his father's shore.
  Then Leif, the son of Eric, rose
  And straightway off to Biarne goes,
  Buys up his ship, takes all his men,
  Fares forth to seek that land again.
  Leif found the land; discovered more,
  And spent a winter on the shore;
  Cut trees and grain to load the ship,
  And pay them for the lengthened trip.
  Named `Hella-land' and `Markland' too,
  And saw an island sweet with dew!
  And grapes in great abundance found,
  So named it Vinland all around.
  But after that forsook the shore,
  And north again for Greenland bore.
  And now--we cross the moonlit seas
  To search this land of grapes and trees
  Biarne, Thorward, Karlsefin--
  Go forth this better land to win,
  With men and cattle not a few,
  And household gear and weapons too;
  And, best of all, with women dear,
  To comfort, counsel, check, and cheer.
  Thus far we've made a prosp'rous way,
  God speed us onward every day!"

They all agreed that this was a true account of the discovery of Vinland
and of their own expedition as far as it had gone, though Gudrid said it
was short, and Freydissa was of opinion that there was very little in
it.

"But hold!" exclaimed Biarne, suddenly raising himself on his elbows;
"Karlsefin, you are but a sorry skald after all."

"How so?" asked the skipper.

"Why, because you have made no mention of the chief part of our voyage."

"And pray what may that be?"

"Stay, I too am a skald; I will tell you."

Biarne, whose poetical powers were not of the highest type, here
stretched forth his hand and said:--

  "When Biarne, Thorward, Karlsefin,
  This famous voyage did begin,
  They stood upon the deck one night,
  And there beheld a moving sight.
  It made the very men grow pale,
  Their shudder almost rent the sail!
  For lo! they saw a mighty whale!
  It drew a shriek from Olaf brave,
  Then plunged beneath the briny wave,
  And, while the women loudly shouted,
  Up came its blundering nose and spouted.
  Then underneath our keel it went,
  And glared with savage fury pent,
  And round about the ship it swum,
  Striking each man and woman dumb.
  Stay--one there was who found a tongue
  And still retained her strength of lung.
  Freydissa, beauteous matron bold,
  Resolved to give that whale a scold!
  But little cared that monster fish
  To gratify Freydissa's wish;
  He shook his tail, that naughty whale,
  And flourished it like any flail,
  And, ho! for Vinland he made sail!"

"Now, friends, was not that a great omission on the part of Karlsefin?"

"If the whale had brought his flail down on your pate it would have
served you right, Biarne," said Freydissa, flushing, yet smiling in
spite of herself.

"I think it is capital," cried Olaf, clapping his hands--"quite as good
as the other poem."

Some agreed with Olaf, and some thought that it was not quite in keeping
with Karlsefin's composition, but, after much debate, it was finally
ruled that it should be added thereto as part and parcel of the great
Vinland poem.  Hence it appears in this chronicle, and forms an
interesting instance of the way in which men, for the sake of humorous
effect, mingle little pieces of fiction with veritable history.

By the time this important matter was settled it was getting so late
that even the most enthusiastic admirer among them of moonlight on a
calm sea became irresistibly desirous of going to sleep.  They therefore
broke up for the night; the women retired to their cabin, and none were
left on deck except the steersman and the watch.  Long before this the
saga-tellers on the forecastle had retired; the monotone and the soft
lowing of the cattle had ceased; man and beast had sought and found
repose, and nothing was heard save the ripple of the water on the ship's
sides as she glided slowly but steadily over the sleeping sea.



CHAPTER SIX.

CHANGES IN WIND AND WEATHER PRODUCE CHANGES IN TEMPER AND FEELING--LAND
DISCOVERED, AND FREYDISSA BECOMES INQUISITIVE.

There are few things that impress one more at sea than the rapidity of
the transitions which frequently take place in the aspect and the
condition of vessel, sea, and sky.  At one time all may be profoundly
tranquil on board; then, perhaps, the necessity for going "about ship"
arises, and all is bustle; ropes rattle, blocks clatter and chirp, yards
creak, and seamen's feet stamp on the deck, while their voices aid their
hands in the hauling of ropes; and soon all is quiet as before.  Or,
perhaps, the transition is effected by a squall, and it becomes more
thorough and lasting.  One moment everything in nature is hushed under
the influence of what is appropriately enough termed a "dead calm."  In
a few seconds a cloud-bank appears on the horizon and one or two
cats-paws are seen shooting over the water.  A few minutes more and the
sky is clouded, the glassy sea is ruffled, the pleasant light sinks into
a dull leaden grey, the wind whistles over the ocean, and we are--as far
as feeling is concerned--transported into another, but by no means a
better, world.

Thus it was with our adventurers.  The beautiful night merged into a
"dirty" morning, the calm into a breeze so stiff as to be almost a gale,
and when Olaf came out of the cabin, holding tight to the
weather-bulwarks to prevent himself from being thrown into the
lee-scuppers, his inexperienced heart sank within him at the dreary
prospect of the grey sky and the black heaving sea.

But young Olaf came of a hardy seafaring race.  He kept his feelings to
himself; and staggered toward Karlsefin, who still stood at his post.
Olaf thought he had been there all night, but the truth was that he had
been relieved by Biarne, had taken a short nap, and returned to the
helm.

Karlsefin was now clad in a rough-weather suit.  He wore a pair of
untanned sealskin boots and a cap of the same material, that bore a
strong resemblance in shape and colour to the sou'-westers of the
present day, and his rough heavy coat, closed up to the chin, was in
texture and form not unlike to the pilot-cloth jackets of modern
seamen--only it had tags and loops instead of buttons and button-holes.
With his legs wide apart, he stood at the tiller, round which there was
a single turn of a rope from the weather-bulwarks to steady it and
himself.  The boy was clad in miniature costume of much the same cut and
kind, and proud was he to stagger about the deck with his little legs
ridiculously wide apart, in imitation of Thorward and Biarne, both of
whom were there, and had, he observed, a tendency to straddle.

"Come hither, Olaf; and learn a little seamanship," said Karlsefin, with
a good-humoured smile.

Olaf said he would be glad to do that, and made a run towards the
tiller, but a heavy plunge of the ship caused him to sheer off in quite
a different direction, and another lurch would have sent him
head-foremost against the lee-bulwarks had not Biarne, with a laugh,
caught him by the nape of the neck and set him against Karlsefin's left
leg, to which he clung with remarkable tenacity.

"Ay, hold on tight to that, boy," said the leg's owner, "and you'll be
safe.  A few days will put you on your sea-legs, lad, and then you won't
want to hold on."

"Always hold your head up, Olaf, when you move about aboard ship in
rough weather," said Biarne, pausing a minute in his perambulation of
the deck to give the advice, "and look overboard, or up, or away at the
horizon--anywhere except at your feet.  You can't see how the ship's
going to roll, you know, if you keep looking down at the deck."

Olaf acted on this advice at once, and then began to question Karlsefin
in regard to many nautical matters which it is not necessary to set down
here, while Biarne and Thorward leaned on the bulwarks and looked
somewhat anxiously to windward.

Already two reefs of the huge sail had been taken in, and Biarne now
suggested that it would be wise to take in another.

"Let it be done," said Karlsefin.

Thorward ordered the men to reef; and the head of the ship was brought
up to the wind so as to empty the sail while this was being done.

Before it was quite accomplished some of the women had assembled on the
poop.

"This is not pleasant weather," observed Gudrid, as she stood holding on
to her husband.

"We must not expect to have it all plain sailing in these seas," replied
Karlsefin; "but the dark days will make the bright ones seem all the
brighter."

Gudrid smiled languidly at this, but made no reply.

Freydissa, who scorned to receive help from man, had vigorously laid
hold of the bulwarks and gradually worked her way aft.  She appeared to
be very much out of sorts--as indeed all the women were.  There was a
greenish colour about the parts of their cheeks that ought to have been
rosy, and a whitey blue or frosted appearance at the points of their
noses, which damaged the beauty of the prettiest among them.  Freydissa
became positively plain--and she knew it, which did not improve her
temper.  Astrid, though fair and exceedingly pretty by nature, had
become alarmingly white; and Thora, who was dark, had become painfully
yellow.  Poor Bertha, too, had a washed-out appearance, though nothing
in the way of lost colour or otherwise could in the least detract from
the innocent sweetness of her countenance.  She did not absolutely weep,
but, being cold, sick, and in a state of utter wretchedness, she had
fallen into a condition of chronic whimpering, which exceedingly
exasperated Freydissa.  Bertha was one of those girls who are regarded
by _some_ of their own sex with a species of mild contempt, but who are
nevertheless looked upon with much tenderness by men, which perhaps
makes up to them for this to some extent.  Gudrid was the least affected
among them all by that dire malady, which appears to have been as
virulent in the tenth as it is in the nineteenth century, and must have
come in with the Flood, if not before it.

"Why don't you go below," said Freydissa testily, "instead of shivering
up here?"

"I get so sick below," answered Bertha, endeavouring to brighten up,
"that I thought it better to try what fresh air would do for me."

"H'm! it doesn't appear to do much for you," retorted Freydissa.

As she spoke a little spray broke over the side of the ship and fell on
the deck near them.  Karlsefin had great difficulty in preventing this,
for a short cross-sea was running, and it was only by dint of extremely
good and careful steering that he kept the poop-deck dry.  In a few
minutes a little more spray flew inboard, and some of it striking Bertha
on the head ran down her shoulders.  Karlsefin was much grieved at this,
but Freydissa laughed heartily.

Instead of making Bertha worse, however, the shock had the effect of
doing her a little good, and she laughed in a half-pitiful way as she
ran down below to dry herself.

"It serves you right," cried Freydissa as she passed; "I wish you had
got more of it."

Now Karlsefin was a man whose temper was not easily affected, and he
seldom or never took offence at anything done or said to himself; but
the unkindness of Freydissa's speech to poor Bertha nettled him greatly.

"Get behind me, Gudrid," he said quickly.

Gudrid obeyed, wondering at the stern order, and Karlsefin gave a push
to the tiller with his leg.  Next moment a heavy sea struck the side of
the ship, burst over the bulwarks, completely overwhelmed Freydissa, and
swept the deck fore and aft--wetting every one more or less except
Gudrid, who had been almost completely sheltered behind her husband.  A
sail which had been spread over the waist of the ship prevented much
damage being done to the men, and of course all the water that fell on
the forecastle and poop ran out at the scupper-holes.

This unexpected shower-bath at once cleared the poop of the women.
Fortunately Thora and Astrid had been standing to leeward of Biarne and
Thorward, and had received comparatively little of the shower, but
Freydissa went below with streaming hair and garments,--as Biarne
remarked,--like an elderly mermaid!

"You must have been asleep when that happened," said Thorward to
Karlsefin in surprise.

"He must have been sleeping, then, with his eyes open," said Biarne,
with an amused look.

Karlsefin gazed sternly towards the ship's head, and appeared to be
attending with great care to the helm, but there was a slight twinkle in
his eye as he said--"Well, it _was_ my intention to wash the decks a
little, but more spray came inboard than I counted on.  'Tis as
dangerous to play with water, sometimes, as with fire."

"There is truth in that," said Biarne, laughing; "and I fear that this
time water will be found to have kindled fire, for when Freydissa went
below she looked like the smoking mountain of Iceland--as if there was
something hot inside and about to boil up."

Karlsefin smiled, but made no reply, for the gale was increasing every
moment, and the management of the ship soon required the earnest
attention of all the seamen on board.

Fortunately it was a short-lived gale.  When it had passed away and the
sea had returned to something like its former quiescent state, and the
sun had burst through and dissipated the grey clouds, our female
voyagers returned to the deck and to their wonted condition of health.

Soon after that they came in sight of land.

"Now, Biarne," said Karlsefin, after the look-out on the forecastle had
shouted "Land ho!" "come, give me your opinion of this new land that we
have made.--Do you mind the helm, Thorward, while we go to the ship's
head."

The two went forward, and on the forecastle they found Olaf; flushed
with excitement, and looking as if something had annoyed him.

"Ho, Olaf! you're not sorry to see land, are you?" said Biarne.

"Sorry! no, not I; but I'm sorry to be cheated of my due."

"How so, boy?"

"Why, _I_ discovered the land first, and that fellow there," pointing to
the man on look-out, "shouted before me."

"But why did you not shout before _him_?" asked Karlsefin, as he and
Biarne surveyed the distant land with keen interest.

"Just because he took me unawares," replied the boy indignantly.  "When
I saw it I did not wish to be hasty.  It might have turned out to be a
cloud, or a fog-bank, and I might have given a false alarm; so I pointed
it out to him, and asked what he thought; but instead of answering me he
gaped with his ugly mouth and shouted `Land ho!'  I could have kicked
him."

"Nay, Olaf; that is not well said," observed Karlsefin, very gravely;
"if you _could_ have kicked him you _would_ have kicked him.  Why did
you not do it?"

"Because he is too big for me," answered the boy promptly.

"So, then, thy courage is only sufficient to make thee kick those who
are small enough," returned Karlsefin, with a frown.  "Perhaps if you
were as big as he you would be afraid to kick him."

"That would not I," retorted Olaf.

"It is easy for you to say that, boy, when you know that he _would_ not
strike you now, and that there is small chance of your meeting again
after you have grown up to prove the truth of what you say.  It is mere
boasting, Olaf; and, mark me, you will never be a brave man if you begin
by being a boastful boy.  A truly brave and modest man--for modesty and
bravery are wont to consort together--never says he will strike until he
sees it to be right to do so.  Sometimes he does not even go the length
of speaking at all, but, in any case, having made up his mind to strike,
he strikes at once, without more ado, let the consequences be what they
will.  But in my opinion it is best not to strike at all.  Do you know,
Olaf; my boy, some of the bravest men I ever knew have never struck a
blow since they came to manhood, excepting, of course, when compelled to
do so in battle; and _then_ they struck such blows as made shields and
helmets fly, and strewed the plain with their foes."

"Did these men never boast when they were boys?" asked Olaf; with a
troubled air.

Karlsefin relaxed into a smile as he said, "Only when they were very
little boys, and very foolish; but they soon came to see how
contemptible it is to threaten and not perform; so they gave up
threatening, and when performance came to be necessary they found that
threats were needless.  Now, Olaf, I want you to be a bold, brave man,
and I must lull you through the foolish boasting period as quickly as
possible, therefore I tell you these things.  Think on them, my boy."

Olaf was evidently much relieved by the concluding remarks.  While
Karlsefin was speaking he had felt ashamed of himself; because he was
filled with admiration of the magnificent skipper, and wanted to stand
well in his opinion.  It was therefore no small comfort to find that his
boasting had been set down to his foolishness, and that there was good
reason to hope he might ultimately grow out of it.

But Olaf had much more of the true metal in him than he himself was
aware of.  Without saying a word about it, he resolved not to wait for
the result of this slow process of growth, but to jump, vault, or fly
out of the boastful period of life, by hook or by crook, and that
without delay.  And he succeeded!  Not all at once, of course.  He had
many a slip; but he persevered, and finally got out of it much sooner
than would have been the case if he had not taken any trouble to think
about the matter, or to _try_.

Meanwhile, however, he looked somewhat crestfallen.  This being observed
by the look-out, that worthy was prompted to say--"I'm sure, Olaf; you
are welcome to kick me if that will comfort you, but there is no
occasion to do so, because I claim not the honour of first _seeing_ the
land--and if I had known the state of your mind I would willingly have
let you give the hail."

"You may have been first to discover it at this time, Olaf;" said
Biarne, turning round after he had made up his mind about it, "and no
doubt you were, since the look-out admits it; nevertheless this is the
land that I discovered twenty years ago.  But we shall make it out more
certainly in an hour or two if this breeze holds."

The breeze did hold, and soon they were close under the land.

"Now am I quite certain of it," said Biarne, as he stood on the poop,
surrounded by all his friends, who gazed eagerly at the shore, to which
they had approached so close that the rocks and bushes were distinctly
visible; "that is the very same land which I saw before."

"What, Vinland?" asked Freydissa.

"Nay, not Vinland.  Are you so eager to get at the grapes that ye think
the first land we meet is Vinland?"

"A truce to your jesting, Biarne; what land is it?"

"It is the land I saw _last_ when leaving this coast in search of
Greenland, so that it seems not unnatural to find it _first_ on coming
back to it.  Leif; on his voyage, went on shore here.  He named it
Helloland, which, methinks, was a fitting name, for it is, as you see, a
naked land of rocks."

"Now, then," said Karlsefin, "lower the sail, heave out the anchor, and
let two men cast loose the little boat.  Some of us will land and see
what we shall see; for it must not be said of us, Biarne, as it was
unfairly said of you, that we took no interest in these new regions."

The little boat was got ready.  The Scottish brothers, Hake and Heika,
were appointed to row.  Karlsefin, Biarne, Thorward, Gudrid, Freydissa,
and Olaf embarked and proceeded to the shore.

This land, on which the party soon stood, was not of an inviting aspect.
It was sterile, naked, and very rocky, as Biarne had described it, and
not a blade of grass was to be seen.  There was a range of high
snow-capped mountains in the interior, and all the way from the coast up
to these mountains the land was covered with snow.  In truth, a more
forbidding spot could not easily have been found, even in Greenland.

"It seems to me," said Freydissa, "that your new land is but a sorry
place--worse than that we have left.  I wonder at your landing here.  It
is plain that men see with flushed eyes when they look upon their own
discoveries.  Cold comfort is all we shall get in this place.  I counsel
that we return on board immediately."

"You are too hasty, sister," said Gudrid.

"Oh! of course, always too hasty," retorted Freydissa sharply.

"And somewhat too bitter," growled Thorward, with a frown.

Thorward was not an ill-natured man, but his wife's sharp temper tried
him a good deal.

"Your interrupting me before you heard all I had to say _proves_ you to
be too hasty, sister," said Gudrid, with a playful laugh.  "I was about
to add that it seems we have come here rather early in the spring.  Who
knows but the land may wear a prettier dress when the mantle of winter
is gone?  Even Greenland looks green and bright in summer."

"Not in those places where the snow lies _all_ the summer," objected
Olaf.

"That's right, Olaf;" said Biarne; "stick up for your sweet aunt.  She
often takes a stick up for you, lad, and deserves your gratitude.--But
come, let's scatter and survey the land, for, be it good or bad, we must
know what it is, and carry with us some report such as Karlsefin may
weave into his rhymes."

"This land would be more suitable for your rhymes, Biarne, than for
mine," said Karlsefin, as they started off together, "because it is most
dismal."

After that the whole party scattered.  The three leaders ascended the
nearest heights in different directions, and Gudrid with Olaf went
searching among the rocks and pools to ascertain what sort of creatures
were to be found there, while Freydissa sat down and sulked upon a rock.
She soon grew tired of sulking, however, and, looking about her,
observed the brothers, who had been left in charge of the boat, standing
as if engaged in earnest conversation.

She had not before this paid much attention to these brothers, and was
somewhat struck with their appearance, for, as we have said before, they
were good specimens of men.  Hake, the younger of the two, had
close-curling auburn hair, and bright blue eyes.  His features were not
exactly handsome, but the expression of his countenance was so winning
that people were irresistibly attracted by it.  The elder brother,
Heika, was very like him, but not so attractive in his appearance.  Both
were fully six feet high, and though thin, as has been said, their limbs
were beautifully moulded, and they possessed much greater strength than
most people gave them credit for.  In aspect, thought, and conversation,
they were naturally grave, and very earnest; nevertheless, they could be
easily roused to mirth.

Going up to them, Freydissa said--"Ye seem to have earnest talk
together."

"We have," answered Heika.  "Our talk is about home."

"I am told that your home is in the Scottish land," said Freydissa.

"It is," answered Hake, with a kindling eye.

"How come you to be so far from home?" asked Freydissa.

"We were taken prisoners two years ago by vikings from Norway, when
visiting our father in a village near the Forth fiord."

"How did that happen?  Come, tell me the story; but, first, who is your
father?"

"He is an earl of Scotland," said Heika.

"Ha! and I suppose ye think a Scottish earl is better than a Norse
king?"

Heika smiled as he replied, "I have never thought of making a comparison
between them."

"Well--how were you taken?"

"We were, as I have said, on a visit to our father, who dwelt sometimes
in a small village on the shores of the Forth, for the sake of bathing
in the sea--for he is sickly.  One night, while we slept, a Norse
long-ship came to land.  Those who should have been watching slumbered.
The Norsemen surrounded my father's house without awaking anyone, and,
entering by a window which had not been securely fastened, overpowered
Hake and me before we knew where we were.  We struggled hard, but what
could two unarmed men do among fifty?  The noise we made, however,
roused the village and prevented the vikings from discovering our
father's room, which was on the upper floor.  They had to fight their
way back to the ship, and lost many men on the road, but they succeeded
in carrying us two on board, bound with cords.  They took us over the
sea to Norway.  There we became slaves to King Olaf Tryggvisson, by
whom, as you know, we were sent to Leif Ericsson."

"No doubt ye think," said Freydissa, "that if you had not been caught
sleeping ye would have given the Norsemen some trouble to secure you."

They both laughed at this.

"We have had some thoughts of that kind," said Hake brightly, "but truly
we did give them some trouble even as it was."

"I knew it," cried the dame rather sharply; "the conceit of you men goes
beyond all bounds!  Ye always boast of what valiant deeds you _would_
have done _if_ something or other had been in your favour."

"We made no boast," replied Heika gravely.

"If you did not speak it, ye thought it, I doubt not.--But, tell me, is
your land as good a land as Norway?"

"We love it better," replied Heika.

"But _is_ it better?" asked Freydissa.

"We would rather dwell in it than in Norway," said Hake.

"We hope not.  But we would prefer to be in our own land," replied the
elder brother, sadly, "for there is no place like home."

At this point Karlsefin and the rest of the party came back to the shore
and put an end to the conversation.  Returning on board they drew up the
anchor, hoisted sail, and again put out to sea.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

SONGS AND SAGAS--VINLAND AT LAST!

In days of old, just as in modern times, tars, when at sea, were wont to
assemble on the "fo'c'sle," or forecastle, and spin yarns--as we have
seen--when the weather was fine and their work was done.

One sunny afternoon, on the forecastle of Karlsefin's ship--which, by
the way, was called "_The Snake_," and had a snake's head and neck for a
figure-head--there was assembled a group of seamen, among whom were
Tyrker the Turk, one of Thorward's men named Swend, who was very stout
and heavy, and one of Karlsefin's men called Krake, who was a wild
jocular man with a peculiar twang in his speech, the result of having
been long a prisoner in Ireland.  We mention these men particularly,
because it was they who took the chief part in conversations and in
story-telling.  The two Scots were also there, but they were very quiet,
and talked little; nevertheless, they were interested and attentive
listeners.  Olaf was there also, all eyes and ears,--for Olaf drank in
stories, and songs, and jests, as the sea-sand drinks water--so said
Tyrker; but Krake immediately contradicted him, saying that when the
sea-sand was full of water it drank no more, as was plain from the fact
that it did not drink up the sea, whereas Olaf went on drinking and was
_never_ satisfied.

"Come, sing us a song, Krake," cried Tyrker, giving the former a slap on
the shoulder; "let us hear how the Danish kings were served by the Irish
boys."

"Not I," said Krake, firmly.  "I've told ye two stories already.  It's
Hake's turn now to give us a song, or what else he pleases."

"But you'll sing it after Hake has sung, won't you, Krake?" pleaded
several of the men.

"I'll not say `No' to that."

Hake, who possessed a soft and deep bass voice of very fine quality, at
once acceded to the request for a song.  Crossing his arms on his chest,
and looking, as if in meditation, towards the eastern horizon, he sang,
to one of his national airs, "The Land across the Sea."

The deep pathos of Hake's voice, more than the words, melted these hardy
Norsemen almost to tears, and for a few minutes effectually put to
flight the spirit of fun that had prevailed.

"That's your own composin', I'll be bound," said Krake, "an' sure it's
not bad.  It's Scotland you mean, no doubt, by the land across the sea.
Ah!  I've heard much of that land.  The natives are very fond of it,
they say.  It must be a fine country.  I've heard Irishmen, who have
been there, say that if it wasn't for Ireland they'd think it the finest
country in the world."

"No doubt," answered Hake with a laugh, "and I dare say Swend, there,
would think it the finest country in the world after Norway."

"Ha!  Gamle Norge," [Old Norway] said Swend with enthusiasm, "there is
no country like _that_ under the sun."

"Except Greenland," said Olaf, stoutly.

"Or Iceland," observed Biarne, who had joined the group.  "Where can you
show such mountains--spouting fire, and smoke, and melted stones,--or
such boiling fountains, ten feet thick and a hundred feet high, as we
have in Iceland?"

"That's true," observed Krake, who was an Icelander.

"Oh!" exclaimed Tyrker, with a peculiar twist of his ugly countenance,
"Turkey is the land that beats all others completely."

At this there was a general laugh.

"Why, how can that be?" cried Swend, who was inclined to take up the
question rather hotly.  "What have you to boast of in Turkey?"

"Eh!  What have we _not_, is the question.  What shall I say?  Ha! we
have _grapes_ there; and we do make _such_ a drink of them--Oh!--"

Here Tyrker screwed his face and figure into what was meant for a
condition of ecstasy.

"'Twere well that they had no grapes there, Tyrker," said Biarne, "for
if all be true that Karlsefin tells us of that drink, they would be
better without it."

"I wish I had it!" remarked Tyrker, pathetically.

"Well, it is said that we shall find grapes in Vinland," observed Swend,
"and as we are told there is everything else there that man can desire,
our new country will beat all the others put together,--so hurrah for
Vinland!"

The cheer was given with right good-will, and then Tyrker reminded Krake
of his promise to sing a song.  Krake, whose jovial spirits made him
always ready for anything, at once struck up to a rattling ditty:--

  THE DANISH KINGS.

  One night when one o' the Irish Kings
  Was sleeping in his bed,
  Six Danish Kings--so Sigvat sings--
  Came an' cut off his head.
  The Irish boys they heard the noise,
  And flocked unto the shore;
  They caught the kings, and put out their eyes,
  And left them in their gore.

  _Chorus_--Oh! this is the way we served the kings,
  An' spoiled their pleasure, the dirty things,
  When they came to harry and flap their wings
  Upon the Irish shore-ore,
  Upon the Irish shore.

  Next year the Danes took terrible pains
  To wipe that stain away;
  They came with a fleet, their foes to meet,
  Across the stormy say.
  Each Irish carl great stones did hurl
  In such a mighty rain,
  The Danes went down, with a horrible stoun,
  An' never came up again!

  Oh! this is the way, etcetera.

The men were still laughing and applauding Krake's song when Olaf, who
chanced to look over the bow of the vessel, started up and shouted
"Land, ho!" in a shrill voice, that rang through the whole ship.

Instantly, the poop and forecastle were crowded, and there, on the
starboard bow, they saw a faint blue line of hills far away on the
horizon.  Olaf got full credit for having discovered the land first on
this occasion; and for some time everything else was forgotten in
speculations as to what this new land would turn out to be; but the
wind, which had been getting lighter every hour that day, died away
almost to a calm, so that, as there was no prospect of reaching the land
for some hours, the men gradually fell back to their old places and
occupation.

"Now, then, Krake," said Tyrker, "tell us the story about that king you
were talking of the other day; which was it?  Harald--"

"Ay, King Harald," said Krake, "and how he came to get the name of
Greyskin.  Well, you must know that it's not many years ago since my
father, Sigurd, was a trader between Iceland and Norway.  He went to
other places too, sometimes--and once to Ireland, on which occasion it
was that I was taken prisoner and kept so long in the country, that I
became an Irishman.  But after escaping and getting home I managed to
change back into an Icelander, as ye may see!  Well, in my father's
younger days, before I was born--which was a pity! for he needed help
sorely at that time, and I would have been just the man to turn myself
handy to any sort of work; however, it wasn't _my_ fault,--in his
younger days, my father one summer went over from Iceland to Norway,--
his ship loaded till she could hardly float, with skins and peltry,
chiefly grey wolves.  It's my opinion that the reason she didn't go down
was that they had packed her so tight there was no room for the water to
get in and sink her.  Anyway, over the sea she went and got safe to
Norway.

"At that time King Harald, one of the sons of Eric, reigned in Norway,
after the death of King Hakon the Good.  He and my father were great
friends, but they had not met for some time; and not since Harald had
come to his dignity.  My father sailed to Hardanger, intending to
dispose of his pelts there if he could.  Now, King Harald generally had
his seat in Hordaland and Bogaland, and some of his brothers were
usually with him; but it chanced that year that they went to Hardanger,
so my father and the king met, and had great doings, drinking beer and
talking about old times when they were boys together.

"My father then went to the place where the greatest number of people
were met in the fiord, but nobody would buy any of his skins.  He
couldn't understand this at all, and was very much annoyed at it, and at
night when he was at supper with the king he tells him about it.  The
king was in a funny humour that night.  He had dashed his beard with
beer to a great extent, and laughed heartily sometimes without my father
being able to see what was the joke.  But my father was a knowing man.
He knew well enough that people are sometimes given to hearty laughter
without troubling themselves much about the joke--especially when they
are beery,--so he laughed too, out of friendliness, and was very
sociable.

"When my father went away the king promised to pay him a visit on board
of his ship next day, which he did, sure enough; and my father took care
to let it be known that he was coming, so there was no lack of the
principal people thereabouts.  They had all come down together, by the
merest chance, to the place where the ship lay, just to enjoy the fresh
air--being fresher there that day than at most other places on the
fiord, no doubt!

"King Harald came with a fully-manned boat, and a number of followers.
He was very condescending and full of fun, as he had been the night
before.  When he was going away he looked at the skins, and said to my
father, `Wilt thou give me a present of one of these wolf-skins?'

"`Willingly,' says my father, `and as many more as you please.'

"On this, the king wrapped himself up in a wolf-skin and went back to
his boat and rowed away.  Immediately after, all the boats in his suite
came alongside and looked at the wolf-skins with great admiration, and
every man bought just such another wolf-skin as the king had got.  In a
few days so many people came to buy skins, that not half of them could
be served with what they wanted, and the upshot was that my father's
vessel was cleared out down to the keel, and thereafter the king went,
as you know, by the name of Harald Greyskin.

"But here we are, comrades," continued Krake, rising, "drawing near to
the land,--I'll have a look at it."

The country off which they soon cast anchor was flat and overgrown with
wood; and the strand far around consisted of white sand, and was very
low towards the sea.  Biarne said that it was the country to which Leif
had given the name of Markland, because it was well-wooded; they
therefore went ashore in the small boat, but finding nothing in
particular to attract their interest, they soon returned on board and
again put to sea with an onshore wind from the north-east.  [Some
antiquaries appear to be of opinion that Helloland must have been
Newfoundland, and Markland some part of Nova Scotia.]

For two days they continued their voyage with the same wind, and then
made land for the third time and found it to be an island.  It was
blowing hard at the time, and Biarne advised that they should take
shelter there and wait for good weather.  This they did, and, as before,
a few of them landed to explore the country, but there was not much to
take note of.  Little Olaf, who was one of the explorers, observed dew
on the grass, and, remembering that Leif had said that the dew on one of
the islands which he met with was _sweet_, he shook some into the hollow
of his hand and tasted it, but looked disappointed.

"Are you thirsty, Olaf?" asked Karlsefin, who, with Biarne, walked
beside him.

"No, but I wondered if the dew would be sweet.  My father said it was,
on one of the islands he came to."

"Foolish boy," said Biarne, laughing; "Leif did but speak in a figure.
He was very hot and tired at the time, and found the dew sweet to his
thirsty spirit as well as refreshing to his tongue."

"Thus you see, Olaf," observed Karlsefin, with a sly look at Biarne,
"whenever you chance to observe your father getting angry, and hear him
say that his beer is sour, you are not to suppose that it is really
sour, but must understand that it is only sour to his cross spirit as
well as disagreeable to his tongue."

Olaf received this with a loud laugh, for, though he was puzzled for a
moment by Biarne's explanation, he saw through the jest at once.

"Well, Biarne," returned Olaf; "whether the dew was sweet to my father's
tongue or to his spirit I cannot tell, but I remember that when he told
us about the sweet dew, he said it was near to the island where he found
it that the country he called Vinland lay.  So, if this be the sweet-dew
island, Vinland cannot be far off."

"The boy is sharp beyond his years," said Karlsefin, stopping abruptly
and looking at Biarne; "what thinkest thou of that?"

"I think," replied the other, "that Olaf will be a great discoverer some
day, for it seems to me not unlikely that he may be right."

"Come, we shall soon see," said Karlsefin, turning round and hastening
back to the boat.

Biarne either had not seen this particular spot on his former visit to
these shores, which is quite probable, or he may have forgotten it, for
he did not recognise it as he had done the first land they made; but
before they left Ericsfiord, Leif had given them a very minute and
careful description of the appearance of the coast of Vinland,
especially of that part of it where he had made good his landing and set
up his booths, so that the explorers might be in a position to judge
correctly when they should approach it.  Nevertheless, as every one
knows, regions, even when well defined, may wear very different aspects
when seen by different people, for the first time, from different points
of view.  So it was on this occasion.  The voyagers had hit the island a
short distance further south than the spot where Leif came upon it, and
did not recognise it in the least.  Indeed they had begun to doubt
whether it really was an island at all.  But now that Olaf had awakened
their suspicions, they hastened eagerly on board the "_Snake_," and
sailed round the coast until they came into a sound which lay between
the Island and a cape that jutted out northward from the land.

"'Tis Vinland!" cried Biarne in an excited tone.

"Don't be too sure of that," said Thorward, as a sudden burst of
sunshine lit up land and sea.

"I cannot be too sure," cried Biarne, pointing to the land.  "See, there
is the ness that Leif spoke of going out northwards from the land; there
is the island; here, between it and the ness, is the sound, and yonder,
doubtless, is the mouth of the river which comes out of the lake where
the son of Eric built his booths.  Ho!  Vinland! hurrah!" he shouted,
enthusiastically waving his cap above his head.

The men were not slow to echo his cheer, and they gave it forth not a
whit less heartily.

"'Tis a noble land to look upon," said Gudrid, who with the other
females of the party had been for some time gazing silently and
wistfully towards it.

"Perchance it may be a _great_ land some day," observed Karlsefin.

"Who knows?" murmured Thorward in a contemplative tone.

"Ay, who knows?" echoed Biarne; "time and luck can work wonders."

"God's blessing can work wonders," said Karlsefin, impressively; "may He
grant it to us while we sojourn here!"

With that he gave orders to prepare to let go the anchor, but the sound,
over which they were gliding slowly before a light wind, was very
shallow, and he had scarcely ceased speaking when the ship struck with
considerable violence, and remained fast upon the sand.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

A CHAPTER OF INCIDENTS AND EXPLORATION, IN WHICH A BEAR AND A WHALE PLAY
PROMINENT PARTS.

Although arrested thus suddenly and unexpectedly in their progress
toward the shore, these resolute Norsemen were not to be balked in their
intention of reaching the land that forenoon--for it was morning when
the vessel stuck fast on the shallows.

The tide was ebbing at the time, so that Karlsefin knew it would be
impossible to get the ship off again until the next flood-tide.  He
therefore waited till the water was low enough, and then waded to the
land accompanied by a large band of men.  We need scarcely say that they
were well-armed.  In those days men never went abroad either by land or
sea without their armour, which consisted of swords, axes, spears and
bows for offence, with helmets and shields for defence.  Some of the men
of wealth and position also wore defensive armour on their breasts,
thighs, and shins, but most of the fighting men were content to trust to
the partial protection afforded by tunics of thick skin.

They were not long of reaching the mouth of the river which Biarne had
pointed out, and, after proceeding up its banks for a short distance,
were convinced that this must be the very spot they were in search of.

"Now, Biarne," said Karlsefin, stopping and sitting down on a large
stone, "I have no doubt that this is Leif's river, for it is broad and
deep as he told us, therefore we will take our ship up here.
Nevertheless, before doing so, it would be a satisfaction to make
positively certain that we are in the right way, and this we may do by
sending one or two of our men up into the land, who, by following the
river, will come to the lake where Leif built his booths, and so bring
us back the news of them.  Meanwhile we can explore the country here
till they return."

Biarne and Thorward thought this advice good, and both offered to lead
the party to be sent there.

"For," said Thorward, "they may meet with natives, and if the natives
here bear any resemblance to the Skraelingers, methinks they won't
receive us with much civility."

"I have thought of that," returned Karlsefin with a smile, "but I like
not your proposal.  What good would it do that either you or Biarne
should lead so small a party if ye were assaulted by a hundred or more
savages, as might well be the case?"

"Why, we could at all events retreat fighting," retorted Thorward in a
slightly offended tone.

"With fifty, perhaps, in front, to keep you in play, and fifty detached
to tickle you in rear."

Thorward laughed at this, and so did Biarne.  "Well, if the worst came
to the worst," said the latter, "we could at any rate sell our lives
dearly."

"And, pray, what good would that do to _us_?" demanded Karlsefin.

"Well, well, have it your own way, skipper," said Biarne; "it seems to
me, nevertheless, that if we were to advance with the whole of the men
we have brought on shore with us, we should be in the same predicament,
for twenty men could not easily save themselves from a hundred--or, as
it might be, a thousand--if surrounded in the way you speak of."

"Besides that," added Thorward, "it seems to me a mean thing to send out
only one or two of our men without a leader to cope with such possible
dangers, unless indeed they were possessed of more than mortal powers."

"Why, what has become of your memories, my friends?" exclaimed
Karlsefin.  "Are there none of our men possessed of powers that are, at
all events, more than those of _ordinary_ mortals?"

"O-ho!  Hake and Heika!  I forgot them," cried Biarne; "the very men for
the work, to be sure!"

"No doubt of it," said Karlsefin.  "If they meet with natives who are
friendly, well and good; if they meet with no natives at all,--better.
If they meet with unfriendly natives, they can show them their heels;
and I warrant you that, unless the natives here be different from most
other men, the best pair of savage legs in Vinland will fail to overtake
the Scottish brothers."

Thorward agreed that this was a good plan, but cautioned Karlsefin to
give the brothers strict injunctions to fly, and not upon any account to
fight; "for," said he, "these doughty Scots are fiery and fierce when
roused, and from what I have seen of them will, I think, be much more
disposed to use their legs in running after their foes than in running
away from them."

This having been settled, the brothers were called, and instructed to
proceed into the woods and up the bank of the river as quickly as
possible, until they should come to a lake on the margin of which they
would probably see a few small huts.  On discovering these they were to
turn immediately and hasten back.  They were also particularly cautioned
as to their behaviour in the event of meeting with natives, and strictly
forbidden to fight, if these should be evil disposed, but to run back at
full speed to warn their friends, so that they might be prepared for any
emergency.

"Nevertheless," said Karlsefin, in conclusion, "ye may carry weapons
with you if ye will."

"Thanks," replied Heika.  "As, however, you appear to doubt our powers
of self-restraint, we will relieve your mind by going without them."

Thus instructed and warned, the brothers tightened their belts, and,
leaping nimbly into the neighbouring brake, disappeared from view.

"A pair of proper men," said Karlsefin.--"And now, comrades, we will
explore the neighbourhood together, for it is advisable to ascertain all
we can of the nature of our new country, and that as quickly as may be.
It is needful, also, to do so without scattering, lest we be set upon
unexpectedly by any lurking foe.  This land is not easily surveyed like
Iceland or Greenland, being, as you see, covered with shrubs and trees,
which somewhat curtail our vision, and render caution the more
necessary."

While the Norsemen were engaged in examining the woods near the coast,
the two Scots held on their way into the interior.  There was something
absolutely exhilarating, as Krake once remarked, in the mere beholding
of these brothers' movements.  They had been famed for agility and
endurance even in their own country.  They did not run, but trotted
lightly, and appeared to be going at a moderate pace, when in reality it
would have compelled an ordinary runner to do his best to keep up with
them.  Yet they did not pant or show any other symptom of distress.  On
the contrary, they conversed occasionally in quiet tones, as men do when
walking.  They ran abreast as often as the nature of the ground would
allow them to do so, taking their leaps together when they came to small
obstructions, such as fallen trees or brooks of a few feet wide; but
when they came to creeks of considerable width, the one usually paused
to see the other spring over, and then followed him.

Just after having taken a leap of this kind, and while they were running
silently side by side along the margin of the river, they heard a crash
among the bushes, and next instant a fine deer sprang into an open space
in front of them.  The brothers bent forward, and, flying like the wind,
or like arrows from a bow, followed for a hundred yards or so--then
stopped abruptly and burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"Ah!  Heika," exclaimed the younger, "that fellow would be more than a
match for us if we could double our speed.  We have no chance with
four-legged runners."

While he was speaking they resumed the jog-trot pace, and soon
afterwards came to a rocky ridge, that seemed to traverse the country
for some distance.  Here they were compelled to walk, and in some places
even to clamber, the ground being very rugged.

Here also they came to a small branch or fork of the river that appeared
to find its way to the sea through another channel.  It was deep, and
although narrow in comparison with the parent stream, was much too broad
to be leaped over.  The pioneers were therefore obliged to swim.  Being
almost as much at home in the water as otters, they plunged in, clothes
and all, without halting, and in a few seconds had gained the other
side.

When they reached the top of the ridge they stopped and gazed in silent
admiration, for there lay stretched out before them a vast woodland
scene of most exquisite beauty.  Just at their feet was the lake of
which they were in search; some parts of it bright as the blue sky which
its unruffled breast reflected; other parts dark almost to blackness
with the images of rocks and trees.  Everywhere around lay a primeval
wilderness of wood and water which it is beyond the power of mortal pen
adequately to describe; and while all was suffused with the golden light
of an early summer sun, and steeped in the repose of an absolutely calm
day, the soft and plaintive cries of innumerable wild-fowl enlivened,
without disturbing, the profound tranquillity of the scene.

"Does it not remind you of our own dear land?" said Heika in a low soft
voice.

"Ay, like the lowlands on the shores of the Forth fiord," replied Hake,
in the same low tone, as if he feared to break the pleasing stillness;
"and there, surely, are the booths we were to search for--see, in the
hollow, at the head of yonder bay, with the gravelly beach and the
birch-trees hanging from the rocks as if they wished to view themselves
in the watery mirror."

"True--there are three of them visible.  Let us descend and examine."

"Hist!  Some one appears to have got there before us," said Hake, laying
his hand on his brother's shoulder and pointing in the direction of the
huts.

"It is not a human visitor, methinks," observed Heika.

"More like a bear," returned Hake.

In order to set the question at rest the brothers hastened round by the
woods to a spot immediately behind the huts.  There was a hill there so
steep as to be almost a precipice.  It overlooked the shores of the lake
immediately below where the huts were, and when the pioneers came to the
crest of it and peeped cautiously over, they beheld a large brown bear
not far from the hut that stood nearest to the hill, busily engaged in
devouring something.

"Now it is a pity," whispered Heika, "that we brought no arms with us.
Truly, little cause have we men to be proud of our strength, for yonder
beast could match fifty of us if we had nothing to depend on save our
fists and feet and fingers."

"Why not include the teeth in your list, brother?" asked Hake, with a
quiet laugh; "but it is a pity, as you say.  What shall--"

He stopped abruptly, for a large boulder, or mass of rock, against which
he leaned, gave way under him, made a sudden lurch forward and then
stuck fast.

"Ha! a dangerous support," said Hake, starting back; "but, hist! suppose
we shove it down on the bear?"

"A good thought," replied Heika, "if we can move the mass, which seems
doubtful; but let us try.  Something may be gained by trying--nothing
lost."

The boulder, which had been so balanced on the edge of the steep hill
that a gentle pressure moved it, was a mass of rock weighing several
tons, the moving of which would have been a hopeless task for twenty men
to attempt, but it stood balanced on the extreme edge of the turn of the
hill, and the little slip it had just made rendered its position still
more critical; so that, when the young men lay down with their backs
against a rock, placed their feet upon it and pushed with all their
might, it slowly yielded, toppled over, and rolled with a tremendous
surge through a copse which lay immediately below it.

The brothers leaped up and gazed in breathless eagerness to observe the
result.  The bear, hearing the crash, looked up with as much surprise as
the visage of that stupid creature is capable of expressing.  The thing
was so suddenly done that the bear seemed to have no time to form an
opinion or get alarmed, for it stood perfectly still, while the boulder,
bounding from the copse, went crashing down the hill, cutting a clear
path wherever it touched, attaining terrific velocity, and drawing an
immense amount of debris after it.  The direction it took happened to be
not quite straight for the animal, whose snout it passed within six or
eight feet--causing him to shrink back and growl--as it rushed smoking
onward over the level bit of sward beneath, through the mass of willows
beyond, across the gravelly strand and out to the lake, into which it
plunged and disappeared amid a magnificent spout of foam.  But the
avalanche of earth and stones which its mad descent had created did not
let Bruin off so easily.  One after another these latter, small and
large, went pattering and dashing against him,--some on his flank, some
on his ribs, and others on his head.  He growled of course, yet stood
the fire nobly for a few seconds, but when, at last, a large boulder hit
him fairly on the nose, he gave vent to a squeal which terminated in a
passionate roar as he turned about and made for the open shore, along
which for some distance he ran with the agility of a monstrous wild-cat,
and finally leaped out of sight into his forest home!

The brothers looked at each other with sparkling eyes, and next moment
the woods resounded with their merriment, as they held their sides and
leaned for support against a neighbouring cliff.

Heika was first to recover himself.

"Hold, brother," he exclaimed, "we laugh loud enough to let Bruin know
who it was that injured him, or to bring all the savages in these woods
down upon us.  Peace, man, peace, and let us return to our friends."

"As soon as ye please, brother," said Hake, still laughing as he
tightened his belt, "but was it not rare fun to see Bruin stand that
stony rain so manfully until his tender point was touched?  And then how
he ran!  'Twas worth coming here to see a bear leave off his rolling
gait so and run like a very wild-cat.--Now I'm ready."

Without staying to make further examination of Leif's old huts--for from
the place where they stood all the six of them could be clearly seen--
the young pioneers started on their return to the coast.  They ran back
with much greater speed than they had pushed forward--fearing that their
companions might be getting impatient or alarmed about them.  They did
not even converse, but with heads up, chests forward, and elbows bent,
addressed themselves to a quick steady run, which soon brought them to
the branch of the river previously mentioned.  Here they stopped for a
moment before plunging in.

"Suppose that we run down its bank," suggested Hake, "and see whether
there be not a shallow crossing."

"Surely ye have not grown afraid of water, Hake?"

"No, not I, but I should like to see whither this branch trends, and
what it is like; besides, the divergence will not cost us much time, as
we can cross at any point we have a mind to, and come at the main river
again through the woods."

"Well, I will not balk you--come on."

They accordingly descended the smaller streams and found it to be broken
by various little cascades and rapids, with here and there a longish
reach of pebbly ground where the stream widened into a shallow rippling
river with one or two small islands in it.  At one of these places they
crossed where it was only knee-deep in the centre, and finally stopped
at the end of a reach, where a sudden narrowing of the banks produced a
brawling rapid.  Below this there was a deep pool caused by a great
eddy.

"Now, we go no further," said Heika.  "Here we shall cross through the
woods to the main branch."

"'Tis a pretty stream," observed Hake when they were about to leave it.

As he spoke a large salmon leaped high out of the pool below, flashed
for one moment in the sunshine like a bar of living silver, and fell
back into the water with a sounding splash.  Hake caught his breath and
opened wide his eyes!

"Truly that is a good sight to the eyes of a Scotsman," said Heika,
gazing with interest at the place where the fish had disappeared; "it
reminds me of my native land."

"Ay, and me of my dinner," observed Hake, smacking his lips.

"Out upon thee, man!" cried Heika, "how can ye couple our native land
with such a matter-o'-fact thought as dinner?"

"Why, it would be hard to uncouple the thought of dinner from our native
land," returned Hake, with a laugh, as they entered the forest; "for
every man--not to mention woman--within its circling coast-line is a
diner, and so by hook or crook must daily have his dinner.--But say,
brother, is it not matter of satisfaction, as well as matter of fact,
that the waters of this Vinland shall provide us with abundance of food
not less surely than the land?  If things go on as they have begun I
shall be well content to stay here."

"Ye do not deserve the name of Scot, Hake," said the other gravely.  "My
heart is in Scotland; it is not here."

"True, I know it," replied Hake, with a touch of feeling; "in a double
sense, too, for your betrothed is there.  Nevertheless, as _I_ did not
leave my heart behind me; surely there is no sin in taking some pleasure
in this new land.  But heed not my idle talk, brother.  You and I shall
yet live to see the bonny hills of--.  Ha! here we are on the big stream
once more, sooner than I had expected, and, if I mistake not, within
hail of our comrades."

Hake was right.  The moment they emerged from the woods upon the open
bank of the large river they saw a party of men in the distance
approaching them, and, an instant later, a loud halloo assured them that
these were their friends.

When the pioneers had related all that they had seen and done, the whole
party returned to the shore and hailed the ship, for, the tide having
risen, they could not now reach it by wading.  A boat was immediately
sent for them, and great was the interest manifested by all on board to
learn the news of Vinland.  They had time to give an account of all that
had been done and seen, because it still wanted an hour of flood-tide,
and the ship still lay immoveable.

While they were thus engaged, Gudrid happened to cast her eyes over the
stern of the ship, and thought she saw an object moving in the water.

"What is that I see?" she said, pointing towards it.

"The great sea-serpent!" exclaimed Biarne, shading his eyes with his
hand.

"Or his ghost," remarked Krake.

From which observations, coupled together, it would appear that the
famous monster referred to was known by repute to the Norsemen of the
eleventh century, though he was to some extent regarded as a myth!

Be this as it may, the object which now attracted the attention and
raised the eyebrows of all on board the "_Snake_" evidently possessed
life, for it was very active--wildly so--besides being large.  It darted
hither and thither, apparently without aim, sending the water in curling
foam before it.  Suddenly it made straight for the ship, then it turned
at a tangent and made for the island; anon it wheeled round, and rushed,
like a mad creature, to the shore.

Then arose a deafening shout from the men--

"A whale! an embayed whale!"

And so in fact it was; a large whale, which, as whales will sometimes
do--blind ones, perhaps--had lost its way, got entangled among the
sandbanks lying between the island and the shore, and was now making
frantic efforts to escape.

Need we say that a scene of the wildest excitement ensued among the men!
The two boats--one of which was, as we have said, a large one--were got
ready, barbed spears and lances and ropes were thrown into them, as many
men as they could hold with safety jumped in, and pulled away, might and
main, after the terrified whale.

You may be sure, reader, that little Olaf was there, fast by the side of
his friend and hero Karlsefin, who took charge of the large boat, with
Thorward in the bow to direct him how to steer.  Biarne was there too as
a matter of course, in charge of the little boat, with Krake as his
bowman and Tyrker pulling the stroke-oar.  For Tyrker was strong, though
little, ugly, and old, and had a peculiar talent for getting involved in
any fighting, fun, or mischief that chanced to be in hand.  Men said
that he was afraid of dying in his bed, and had made up his mind to rush
continually into the jaws of danger until they should close upon and
crush him; but we are of opinion that this was a calumny.  Those of the
men who were necessarily left in the ship could scarce be prevented from
swimming after the boats as they shot away, and nothing but the
certainty of being drowned restrained them from making the mad attempt.
As it was, they clambered upon the figure-head and up the rigging,
where, with gaping mouths and staring eyes, they watched the movements
of their more fortunate companions.

Meanwhile the whale had made what appeared to be a grand and final
neck-or-nothing rush in the direction of the shore.  Of course he was
high, although not dry, in a few seconds.  That is to say, he got into
water so shallow that he stuck fast, with his great head and shoulders
raised considerably out of the sea, in which position he began to roll,
heave, spout, and lash his mighty tail with a degree of violence that
almost approached sublimity.

He was in these circumstances when the Norsemen came up; for though too
shallow for the whale, the water was quite deep enough for the boats.

Being light, the small boat reached the scene of action first.  Krake
stood up in the bow to be ready.  He held in his hand a curious wooden
spear with a loose barb tipped with the tusk of a walrus.  It had been
procured from one of the Greenland Skraelingers.  A rope was attached to
it.

As they drew near, the whale stopped for an instant, probably to recover
breath.  Krake raised his spear--the fish raised his tail.  Whizz! went
the spear.  Down came the tail with a thunderclap, and next moment mud,
sand, water, stones, foam, and blood, were flying in cataracts
everywhere as the monster renewed its struggles.

"Back! back oars!" shouted Biarne, as they were almost swamped by the
flood.

The men obeyed with such good-will that Krake was thrown head-foremost
over the bow.

"Hold fast!" yelled Krake on coming to the surface.

"If ye had held fast ye wouldn't have been there," said Biarne; "where
are ye?"

He rose again out of the foam, yelled, and tossed up his arms.

"Can the man not swim?" cried Biarne, in alarm; "pull, boys, pull!"

The men were already pulling with such force that they almost went over
the man.  As they rubbed past him Hake dropped his oar and caught him by
the hair, Biarne leaned over the side and got him by the breeches, and
with a vigorous heave they had him inboard.

"Why, Krake, I thought you could swim!" said Biarne.

"Ay, so I can, but who could swim with a coil of rope round his neck and
legs?"

The poor man had indeed been entangled in the rope of the spear, so that
he could not use his limbs freely.

No more was said, however, for they were still in dangerous proximity to
the tail of the struggling fish, and had to pull out of its way.

Meanwhile the large boat, profiting by the experience of the small one,
had kept more towards the whale's head, and, before Krake had been
rescued, Thorward sent a Skraelinger spear deep into its shoulder.  But
this only acted as a spur to the huge creature, and made it heave about
with such violence that it managed to slew right round with its head
offshore.

At this the men could not restrain a shout of alarm, for they knew that
if the whale were to succeed in struggling again into water where it
could swim, it would carry away spears and ropes; or, in the event of
these holding on, would infallibly capsize and sink the boats.

"Come, drive in your spears!" shouted Karlsefin in a voice of thunder,
for his usually quiet spirit was now deeply stirred.

Thorward and one of the men threw their spears, but the latter missed
and the former struck his weapon into a part that was too thick to do
much injury, though it was delivered with great force and went deep.

"This will never do!" cried Karlsefin, leaping up; "here, Swend, take
the helm.  Ho! hand me that spear, quick!  Now, lads, pull, pull, with
heart and limb!"

As he spoke he sprang like a roused giant into the bow of the boat and
caught up a spear.  The men obeyed his orders.  The boat rushed against
the whale's side, and, with its impetus added to his own Herculean
strength, Karlsefin thrust the spear deep down into the monster's body
just behind the shoulder fin.

The crimson stream that immediately gushed forth besprinkled all in the
boat and dyed the sea around.

"That is his life-blood," said Karlsefin, with a grim smile; "you may
back off now, lads."

This was done at once.  The small boat was also ordered to back off, and
those in it obeyed not a moment too soon, for immediately after
receiving the deadly wound the whale went into a violent dying struggle.
It soon subsided.  There were one or two mighty heavings of the
shoulder; then a shudder ran through the huge carcase, and it rolled
slowly over in a relaxed manner which told significantly that the great
mysterious life had fled.



CHAPTER NINE.

THE FIRST NIGHT IN VINLAND.

The prize which had thus fallen into the hands of the Norsemen was of
great importance, because it furnished a large supply of food, which
thus enabled them to go leisurely to work in establishing themselves,
instead of, as would otherwise have been the case, spending much of
their time and energy in procuring that necessity of life by hunting and
fishing.

It was also exceedingly fortunate that the whale had been killed a
little before the time of high water, because that enabled them to
fasten ropes through its nose and row with it still farther in to the
shore.  This accomplished, the boats made several trips back to the ship
and landed all the men, and these, with a number of ropes, hauled up the
carcase foot by foot as the tide rose.  After reaching a certain point
at high water they could get it up no farther, and when the tide turned
all the men twice doubled could not have budged it an inch.  The ropes
were therefore tied together and lengthened until they reached a strong
tree near the beach, to which they were fastened.

Leaving their prize thus secured they hastened back to the ship, hauled
up the anchor, and made for the mouth of the river, but they had lost so
much of the flood-tide, in consequence of their battle with the whale,
and the evening was so far advanced, that they resolved to delay further
proceedings until the following day.

The ship was therefore hauled close in to the land at the river's mouth
and allowed to take the ground on a spit of sand.  Here the men landed
and soon built up a pile of stones, between which and the ship a gangway
was made.  The women were thus enabled to walk comfortably ashore.  And
here, on a grassy spot, they pitched their tents for the first time in
Vinland.

Provisions were now brought on shore and large fires were kindled which
blazed up and glared magnificently as the night drew on, rendering the
spit of sand with the grassy knoll in the centre of it quite a cheerful
and ruddy spot.  A few trees were cut down and stretched across the spit
at its neck on the land side, and there several sentinels were placed as
a precaution--for which there seemed little occasion.

Karlsefin then set up a pole with a flag on it and took formal
possession of this new land, after which the whole colony sat down on
the grass--some under the tents, others under the starry sky--to supper.
The cattle, it may here be noted, were not landed at this place, as
they were to be taken up the river next day, but their spirits were
refreshed with a good supply of new-mown grass, so that it is to be
hoped, and presumed, they rejoiced not less than their human companions
in the satisfactory state of things.

In the largest tent, Karlsefin, Biarne, Thorward, Gudrid, Freydissa,
Astrid, and Olaf, sat down to a sumptuous repast of dried Greenland-fish
and fresh Vinland-whale, besides which they had soup and beer.  Being
healthy and hungry, they did full justice to the good things.  Bertha
and Thora served and then joined in the repast.

"This is pleasant, isn't it, Freydissa?" asked Biarne, with his mouth
full.

Freydissa, with her mouth not quite so full, admitted that it was, for
she happened to be in an amiable humour--as well she might!

"Come, let us pledge the new land in a can of beer," cried Biarne,
pouring the beverage out of an earthenware jar into a squat old Norse
flagon of embossed silver.  "Thorward, fill up!"

"I will join you heartily in that," cried Thorward, suiting the action
to the word.

"And I," said Karlsefin, raising an empty flagon to his lips, "will
pledge it in a wish.  I wish--prosperity to Vinland!"

"Come, Karlsefin," remonstrated Biarne, "forego austerity for once, and
drink."

"Not I," returned the skipper, with a laugh.

"Wherefore not?"

"First, because a wish is quite as potent as a drink in that respect;
second, because our beer is nearly finished, and we have not yet the
means to concoct more, so that it were ill-advised to rob _you_, Biarne,
by helping to consume that which I do not like; and, last of all, I
think it a happy occasion this in which to forswear beer altogether!"

"Have thy way," said Biarne, helping himself to another whale-steak of
large dimensions.  "You are too good a fellow to quarrel with on such
trifling ground.  Here, pass the jar, Thorward; I will drink his portion
as well as my own."

"And I will join you both," cried little Olaf with a comical turn of his
eyebrows.  "Here, I wish prosperity to Vinland, and drink it, too, in
water."

"We can all join thee in that, Olaf," said Gudrid I with an approving
nod and laugh.  "Come, girls, fill up your cups and pledge to Vinland."

"Stop!" shouted Biarne in sudden anxiety.

They all paused with the cups half-way to their lips.

"_You_ must not drink, Freydissa," he continued seriously.  "Gudrid did
call upon the _girls_ to join her: surely ye don't--"

He was cut short by Freydissa throwing her cup of water in his face.

With a burst of laughter Biarne fell backwards, and, partly to avoid the
deluge, partly for fun, rolled out of the tent, when he got up and dried
his dripping beard.

"No more of that, fair girl, I beseech thee," he said, resuming his
place and occupation.  "I will not again offend--if thou wilt not again
misunderstand!"

Freydissa made no reply to this, silence being her usual method of
showing that she condescended to be in good humour--and they were all
very merry over their evening meal.  From the noise and laughter and
songs around them, it was evident that the rest of the company were
enjoying their first night on shore to the full, insomuch that Olaf was
led, in the height of his glee, to express a wish that they could live
in that free-and-easy fashion for ever.

"'Tis of no use wishing it," observed Karlsefin; "if you would insure
success you must, according to Biarne, drink it in beer."

"I cry you mercy, skipper," said Biarne; "if you persecute me thus I
shall not be able to drink any more to-night.  Hand me the jar,
Thorward, and let me drink again before I come to that pass."

"Hark!" exclaimed Gudrid, "there must be something going to happen, for
all the men have become suddenly quiet."

They listened intently for a moment or two, when Krake's voice broke the
deep silence:--"Come, now, don't think so long about it, as if ye were
composing something new.  Every one knows, sure, that it's about sweet
Scotland you're going to sing."

"Right, Krake, right," replied a rich deep voice, which it required no
sight to tell belonged to Hake, the young Scot; "but there are many
songs about sweet Scotland, and I am uncertain which to choose."

"Let it be lively," said Krake.

"No, no, no," chorussed some of the men; "let it be slow and sad."

"Well well," laughed the half-Irishman--as he was fond of styling
himself--"have it your own way.  If ye won't be glad, by all means be
sad."

A moment after, Hake's manly tones rose on the still air like the sound
of an organ, while he sang one of the ancient airs of his native land,
wherein, like the same airs of modern days, were sounded the praises of
Scotland's heather hills and brawling burns--her bonny daughters and her
stalwart sons.

To those in the large tent who had listened, with breathless attention
and heads half averted, it was evident that song, sentiments, and singer
were highly appreciated, from the burst of hearty applause at the
conclusion, and the eager demand for another ditty.  But Hake protested
that his ruling motto was "fair play," and that the songs must circle
round.

"So let it be," cried Swend.--"Krake, it is your turn next."

"I won't keep ye waiting," said that worthy, "though I might do it, too,
if I was to put off time selecting from the songs of old Ireland, for
it's endless they are--and in great variety.  Sure, I could give ye
songs about hills and streams that are superior to Scotland's burns and
braes any day--almost up to those of Gamle Norge if they were a bit
higher--the hills I mean, not the songs, which are too high already for
a man with a low voice--and I could sing ye a lament that would make ye
shed tears enough to wash us all off the spit of land here into the sea;
but that's not in my way.  I'm fond of a lively ditty, so here you are."

With that Krake struck up an air in which it was roundly asserted that
Ireland was the finest country in the world (except Iceland, as he
stopped in his song to remark); that Irish boys and girls lived in a
state of perpetual hilarity and good-will, and that the boys displayed
this amiable and pleasant condition chiefly in the way of kissing the
girls and cracking each other's crowns.

After that, Swend was called on to sing, which he did of Norway with
tremendous enthusiasm and noise but little melody.  Then another man
sang a love-ditty in a very gruff voice and much out of tune, which,
nevertheless, to the man's evident satisfaction, was laughingly
applauded.  After him a sentimental youth sang, in a sweet tenor voice,
an Icelandic air, and then Tyrker was called on to do his part, but
flatly refused to sing.  He offered to tell a saga instead, however,
which he did in such a manner that he made the sides of the Norsemen
ache with laughter--though, to say truth, they laughed more at the
teller than the tale.

Thus with song and saga they passed the first hours of the night, while
the camp-fires blazed ruddily on their weather-beaten faces, and the
heavenly constellations shone, not only on the surrounding landscape,
but appeared to light up another world of cloudland beneath the surface
of the sleeping sea.

At last Karlsefin went out to them.

"Now, lads," said he, "it is high time that you laid your heads on your
pillows.  Men who do not sleep well cannot labour well.  To-morrow we
have hard work before us in taking possession and settling our new home.
God has prospered us thus far.  We have made a good beginning in
Vinland.  May it be the foretaste of a happy ending.  Away, then, and
get you to rest before the night is older, and let your sleep be sound,
for I will see to it that the sentinels posted round the camp are
vigilant."

The men received this brief speech with a murmur of willing
acquiescence, and at once obeyed the order; though Krake observed that
he fell in with the custom merely out of respect to the opinions of his
comrades, having himself long ago learned to do without sleep in
Ireland, where the lads were in the habit of working--or fighting--all
day, dancing all night, and going home with the girls in the morning!
Each Norseman then sought a spot upon the grassy knoll suited to his
taste; used his arm, or a hillock, or stone, for a pillow, or anything
else that came conveniently to hand, and with his sword or axe beside
him, and his shield above him as a coverlet, courted repose, while the
bright stars twinkled him to sleep, and the rippling wavelets on the
shore discoursed his lullaby.



CHAPTER TEN.

TAKING POSSESSION OF THE NEW HOME, AN EVENT WHICH IS CELEBRATED BY AN
EXPLOSION AND A RECONCILIATION.

Every one knows--at least a well-known proverb assures us--that "early
to bed and early to rise" conduces to health, wealth, and wisdom.  The
Norsemen of old would appear to have been acquainted with the proverb
and the cheering prospect it holds out; perhaps they originated it; at
all events, that they acted on it, and probably experienced the happy
results, is evident from the fact that Karlsefin and his men not only
went to bed in good time at night--as related in the last chapter--but
were up and doing by daybreak on the following morning.

Having roused the women, relieved the sentinels, struck the tents, and
carried everything safely on board the _Snake_, they manned the oars, or
large sweeps, with the stoutest of the crew, and prepared to row their
vessel up the river into the lake on the shores of which they designed
to fix their future home.  Previous to this, however, a party of men
were told off to remain behind and cut up the whale, slice the lean
portions into thin layers, and dry them in the sun for winter use.

"See that you make a good job of it," said Karlsefin to Swend, who was
left behind as the leader of the whale-party--because he was fat, as
Krake said, and, therefore, admirably suited for such work--"and be
careful not to let sand get amongst the meat.  Cut out the whalebone
too, it will be of use to us; and don't forget that there may be enemies
lurking in the woods near you.  Keep your windward eye uncovered, and
have your weapons always handy."

Swend promised to attend to these orders, and, with twenty men, armed
with axes, scythes, and large knives, besides their swords, shields,
bows and arrows, stood on the ness and cheered their comrades as they
rowed away.

The force of the current was not great, so that the _Snake_ made rapid
progress, and in a few hours reached the place where the small stream
forked off from the main river.  This they named Little River.  Above
that point the current was more rapid, and it became necessary to send a
large party of men on shore with a tracking-rope, by means of which and
the oars they at last overcame all obstacles, and finally swept out upon
the bosom of the beautiful sheet of water which had afforded such
delight to the eyes of the two Scots.

"Here, then, we have got _home_ at last," said Karlsefin, as they rowed
over the still water to a spit, or natural landing-place, near Leif's
old booths.

"It is very beautiful," said Gudrid, "but I find it difficult to call it
home.  It seems so strange, though so pleasant."

"You were always difficult to please, Gudrid," said Freydissa; "surely
you don't think Greenland--cold, windy, bleak, nasty Greenland--a better
home than this?"

"Nay, sister, I made no comparison.  I did but say that it seemed
strange, and I'm sure that Bertha agrees with me in that--don't you,
Bertha?"

"Indeed I do," replied the maiden; "strange the land is, but beautiful
exceedingly."

"Of course she'll agree with what _you_ say," cried Freydissa, testily.
"I would that she agreed as readily with me.  It is a wonder that she is
not weeping, as she is always so ready to do on the smallest
provocation, or without any provocation at all."

"I only wept on leaving my father," remonstrated Bertha with a winning
smile.  "I'm sure you have not seen me shed a tear since then.  Besides,
I do agree with you in this case, for I think Vinland will be a pleasant
home.  Don't you too?" she added, turning round to Thora, who had been
standing at her side, but Thora had moved away, and her place had been
taken by Hake, the Scot.

Bertha blushed on meeting the youth's gaze, and the blush deepened when
Hake said in a quiet undertone, that Vinland could not but be a pleasant
home to him, and added that Greenland, Iceland, Norway,--anywhere,--
would be equally pleasant, if only _she_ were there!

Poor Bertha was so taken aback by the cool and sudden boldness of this
unexpected reply, that she looked hastily round in alarm lest it had
been overheard; but Hake, not intending that it should be overheard, had
addressed it to her ear, and fortunately at the moment the grating of
the keel upon the pebbly shore drew the attention of all to the land.

"Now, then, jump ashore, lads," cried Biarne, "and get out the gangway.
Make it broad, for our cattle must not be allowed to risk their limbs by
tumbling off."

While Biarne superintended the gangway, Thorward prepared the live stock
for their agreeable change, and Karlsefin went up to examine the state
of the huts.  They were found to be in excellent condition, having been
well built originally, and the doors and windows having been secured
against the weather by those who had used them last.

"No natives can have been here," observed the leader of the party to
those who accompanied him, "because every fastening is secured,
apparently, as it was left."

"Nevertheless, Sigrid and I have seen footprints in the sand," remarked
the woman Gunhild, coming up at that moment.

"Show them to me," said Karlsefin, with much interest.

"Yonder they are," replied the woman, pointing towards a sandy spot on
her left, "and he who made them must have been a giant, they are so
large."

"Truly, a dangerous giant to meet with," observed Karlsefin, laughing,
when he reached the place, "these are none other, Gunhild, than the
footprints of the bear that the two Scots sent away with the toothache.
But come, we will open these huts and have them put in order and made
comfortable against supper-time.  So, get to work all of you and see how
active you can be."

While some of the party were busily engaged in sweeping out and
arranging the huts, others shouldered their axes and went into the woods
to cut down a few dead trees for firewood, and when the gangway between
the ship and the shore was completed the live stock was driven on shore.

There was something quite impressive in this part of the landing.  There
was a deliberate slowness in the movements of most of the animals that
gave to it quite the air of a solemn procession, and must have been a
good illustration, on a small scale, of the issuing of the beasts from
Noah's Ark on the top of Ararat!

The first creature which, appropriately enough, led the van, was a
lordly black bull.  Little Olaf, whose tastes were somewhat peculiar,
had made a pet of this bull during the voyage, and by feeding it,
scratching it behind the ears, patting its nose, giving it water, and
talking to it, had almost, if not altogether, won its affections.  He
was therefore permitted to superintend the landing of it.

"Come, get on, Blackie," cried Olaf, giving the bull a push on the flank
as it stood on the gangway with its head high, tail slightly raised,
nostrils expanded, and eyes flashing.  It glanced from side to side as
if to take a general survey of its new domains.

Olaf advised it to "get on" again, but Blackie deigned to take no
further notice than by a deep-toned internal rumbling.

"Not unlike Mount Hecla when it is going to explode," said Biarne,
laughing.

"Come back, boy, he will do you a mischief," cried Gudrid in some alarm.

"Why, Olaf," said Karlsefin, "your pet is going to be disobedient.
Speak louder to him."

Instead of speaking louder Olaf quietly grasped the brute's tail and
gave it a twist.

The effect was wonderful and instantaneous.  The huge animal rushed
wildly along the gangway, leaped across the beach, making the pebbles
fly as he went, scampered over the green turf and plunged into the
forest, kicking up his heels, flourishing his tail and bellowing in
frantic delight!

Most of the cows went slowly and placidly along the gangway, and landed
with easy-going satisfaction expressed in their patient faces, to the
supreme contempt of Freydissa, who said she wished that they had all
been bulls.  There was one young heifer amongst them, however, which
proved an exception to the rule.  It glared savagely round, as if in
imitation of the bull, refused point-blank to land, swerved from side to
side of the gangway, backed right into the ship at the risk of its neck
and limbs, attempted to charge the men, created dire confusion and alarm
among the poultry, and finally fell off the gangway into the water, and
scrambled on shore in a way that must have thrilled Freydissa's heart
with admiration--although she did not say so, but maintained a grim
silence all the time.

Next came the sheep, which, owing perhaps to sea-sickness, or
home-sickness, or some other cause, looked remarkably sheepish, and
walked on shore with as much solemnity as if each had been attending the
funeral of the rest.  There were about twenty of these, and after them
came a dozen or so of Icelandic ponies, which, although somewhat more
active than the sheep, were evidently suffering in their spirits from
the effects of the recent voyage.  One of them, however, on feeling the
soft turf under his feet, attempted to neigh, without much success, and
another said something that sounded more like a horse-laugh than
anything else.

Then followed the fowls, some of which walked, some flew, and others
fluttered, according to their varying moods, with an immense deal of
fuss and cackling, which was appropriately capped by the senior cock
mounting on one of the huts and taking possession of the land with an
ecstatic crow.

The procession was brought up by the ducks, which waddled out of the
ship, some with an expression of grave surprise, some with "quacks" of
an inquiring nature, others with dubious steps and slow, while a few,
with an eye to the "main chance" made ineffectual dabs at little
roughnesses in their pathway, in the hope that these might turn out to
be edible.

At last all were landed and driven up into the woods, where they were
left without any fear being entertained as to their going astray, seeing
that they were guarded by several fine dogs, which were too much
associated with the men as companions to be included in the foregoing
list of the lower animals.

"Shall we set the nets?" said Hake, going up to Karlsefin, who was busy
arranging the principal hut, while the men were bringing their goods and
chattels on shore.  "You know we saw a salmon leap from a pool on Little
River.  Doubtless they are in the lake also."

"Try it, Hake, by all means.  Go with your brother in the little boat
and set them where you think best.  Fresh salmon for supper would be a
rare treat just now.  Are you sure it _was_ a salmon you saw, and not a
large trout?"

"Sure?  Ay, as sure as I am that a horse is not a cow," replied Hake,
smiling.

"Go then, and luck go with you."

The nets were soon set in the bay, near the point of the ness on which
the huts were built, and near to which a small mountain-stream entered
the lake.

Suddenly a shrill angry voice was heard issuing from one of the smaller
huts near the lake.  It was Freydissa storming at poor Bertha.  There
was an occasional bass growl intermingled with it.  That was Thorward
remonstrating.

"Poor Bertha," said Karlsefin to Biarne, who was standing beside him at
the time, "she has a hard mistress."

"Poor Thorward," said Biarne, "he has a tough wife."

"Thorward will cure or kill her," rejoined Karlsefin, with a laugh.  "He
is a long-suffering man, and very tender to women withal, but he is not
made of butter."

Biarne shook his head.  He evidently had not much opinion of Thorward's
resolution when opposed by the will and passion of such a termagant as
Freydissa.

"How much better 'twould have been," said he, "if Thorward had married
her maid--the sweet little fair-haired blue-eyed Bertha."

"Why, Biarne, methinks that _thou_ art somewhat like to try that plan,"
said his friend, looking at him in surprise, for he had spoken with much
enthusiasm.

"Not I, man," returned Biarne, with a smile and a shake of the head.
"It is long since my heart was buried in Iceland.  I am doomed to be an
old bachelor now."

They both listened at this point, for the domestic brawl in the small
hut seemed to be waxing furious.  Thorward's voice was not heard so
often, but when it did sound there was an unusually stern tone in it,
and Freydissa's became so loud that her words were audible.

"It has been killed, I tell you, Bertha, by sheer carelessness.  If you
had fed it properly it would have been as well as the others.  _Don't_
say you did your best for it.  You didn't.  You _know_ you didn't.
You're a smooth-faced vixen.  You are.  Don't speak.  Don't speak back,
I say.  Hold your tongue.  You killed that kitten by carelessness."

"If you don't hold your tongue, wife," said Thorward, in a loud stern
voice, "I'll kill the cat too."

There was a pause here, as if the threat had taken away Freydissa's
breath.

"Oho! that's the poor little kitten," whispered Karlsefin to Biarne,
referring to one of a litter that had been born at sea, "that was nigh
eaten by one of the dogs.  Bertha had no hand in its death.  I wonder it
lived so long."

"Kill the cat?" shrieked Freydissa, stamping her foot.

This was instantly followed by an unearthly caterwaul and the sudden
appearance of a dark object in the air, which, issuing from the door of
the hut, flew upwards like a sky-rocket, described a wide curve, and
fell heavily about fifty yards out into the lake.  Next moment Freydissa
sprang from the hut and stood with clasped hands on the shore in
speechless horror.  Thorward immediately after came forth with a dark
frown on his face, and walked away into the forest.  Freydissa stood
like a statue for some minutes, and then, seeing that the cat lay quite
motionless, she turned, and, with a face that was deadly pale,
re-entered the hut.

"It was cruel," observed Karlsefin sadly.

"But salutary, perhaps," said Biarne.

"It may be so," rejoined the other; "but even if Thorward's end be a
good one, a right end does not justify a wrong action.--Ah! here comes
sunshine.  How goes it, Gudrid?"

Gudrid, who came forward at the moment, and knew nothing of what had
occurred, said that she wanted Karlsefin's help, if he could spare time,
in order to arrange some of the fixtures in their new home.

Assuring her that she herself was the most valuable "fixture" in the
house, Karlsefin left his work and the two walked off together, while
Biarne went down to the ship.

Meanwhile Thorward returned to his hut, where he found Freydissa alone,
sitting on a box with her face buried in her hands.  She did not move,
so he sat down beside her with a subdued look.

"Freydissa," he said, "I'm sorry I did that.  'Twas cruel, 'twas hard;
but it is done now, and can't be undone.  Forgive me, lass, if you can."

She raised her head suddenly, and gazed at him with a flushed
countenance.

"Thorward," she said with energy, "if you had come with any other tone
or word I would have hated you with all the power of my heart--"

"And that's a strong power, Freydissa."

"It is.  But now--"

She threw her arms round her husband's neck and kissed him.  Thorward
returned the kiss with the vigour of a man who is wont to give back more
than he gets.

"Thanks, my girl," said he, rising, "thanks.  That puts my heart at
ease.  As for the poor cat, she's beyond the influence of anger or
repentance now; but trust me, Freydissa, I shall fetch you the
handsomest cat that can be had for love or money in all Greenland, or
Iceland; ay, even if I should have to make a special voyage to get hold
of it."

Thus did Thorward and Freydissa fall out, and thus were they reconciled,
on the first day in their new home in Vinland.

Talking this matter over with Thorward next day, Karlsefin took occasion
to give his friend some sage advice.

"Depend upon it, Thorward," said he, "no good ever comes of quarrelling
or violence, but, on the contrary, much evil.  'Tis well that you
confessed your fault to her, else had she ever after held you in light
esteem; because, although _she_ deserved reproof, the cat did not
deserve to be killed."

"Beshrew me!"

"Nay," interrupted Karlsefin, with a laugh, "_that_ is the last thing
you ought to say, seeing that you have had so much beshrewing already."

"Well, well," said Thorward, "thou art wonderfully smart at giving good
advice."

"Would that I could say thou wert equally smart at taking it!  However,
I have hope of thee, Thorward.  Come, let us go see what the nets have
produced.  I observe Hake and Heika rowing to land."

It was found that the fishermen had loaded their boat with magnificent
trout of all sizes--some above five or six pounds' weight--besides a
large quantity of excellent fish of other kinds, but not a single salmon
had been taken.  Nevertheless they had good reason to be content with
their success, for the supply was sufficient to provide a hearty supper
for the whole party, so that the first night in the new home,--like the
first night in the new land,--was a merry one.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

SETTLING DOWN--HAKE PROVES THAT HIS ARMS, AS WELL AS HIS LEGS, ARE
GOOD--A WONDERFUL FISHING INCIDENT, WHICH ENDS IN A SCENE BETWEEN
FREYDISSA AND KRAKE.

The little hamlet on the Vinland lake, which had been so long silent and
deserted, resounded from that time forth with the voices and activities
of energetic labourers, for these adventurous Norsemen had much to do
before their new home could be made comfortable.

The forest and undergrowth around had to be cleared; the huts, of which
there were six, had to be cleaned out, fitted up with new parchment in
the windows--for there was no glass in those days--and new thatch on the
roofs, besides being generally repaired; additional huts had to be built
for the people, pens for the sheep, and stabling for the cattle, all of
which implied felling and squaring timber, while the smaller articles of
household furniture and fittings kept the people generally in full
occupation.  Of course a party had to be told off as hunters for the
community, while another party were set to attend to the nets in the
lake, and a third, under the special charge of Karlsefin, went out at
intervals to scour the woods, with the double purpose of procuring food
and investigating the character and resources of the new land.

In regard to this last these settlers had every reason to be satisfied.
The country appeared to be boundless in extent, and was pleasantly
diversified in form; the waters teemed with fish, the land was rich with
verdure, and the forests swarmed with game, large and small.

One day Karlsefin and Biarne, attended by Hake and several men, went out
for a ramble of exploration in the direction of the small river, or
branch of the large river, mentioned in a previous chapter.  Some of the
party were armed with bows and arrows, others had spears, the leader and
his friend carried short spears or javelins.  All wore their swords and
iron head-pieces, and carried shields.  Indeed, no party was ever
allowed to go beyond the neighbourhood of the settlement without being
fully armed, for although no natives had yet been seen, it was quite
possible, nay, highly probable, that when they did appear, their arrival
would be sudden and unexpected.

As they advanced, they heard a rustle of leaves behind a knoll, and next
instant a large deer bounded across their path.  Karlsefin hurled his
spear with sudden violence, and grazed its back.  Biarne flung his
weapon and missed it.  There was an exclamation of disappointment among
the men, which, however, was turned into a cheer of satisfaction when
Hake let fly an arrow and shot it through the heart.  So forcibly was
the shaft sent that it passed quite through the animal, and stood,
bloodstained and quivering, in the stem of a tree beyond, while the deer
leaped its own height into the air, and fell stone-dead upon the sward.

"A brave shot--excellently done!" exclaimed Karlsefin, turning to the
young Scot with a look of admiration; "and not the first or second time
I have seen thee do something of the same sort, from which I conclude
that it is not chance, but that your hand is always quick, and your eye
generally true.  Is it not so?"

"I never miss my mark," said Hake.

"How now? you _never_ miss your mark?  It seems to me, young man, that
though your air is modest, your heart and words are boastful."

"I never boast," replied Hake gravely.

"Say you so?" cried Karlsefin energetically, glancing round among the
trees.  "Come, clear yourself in this matter.  See you yonder little
bird on the topmost branch of that birch-tree that overhangs the stream?
It is a plain object, well defined against the sky.  Touch it if you
can."

"That little bird," said Hake, without moving, "is not _my mark_.  I
never make a mark of the moon, nor yet of an object utterly beyond the
compass of my shafts."

"Well, it _is_ considerably out of range," returned Karlsefin, laughing;
"but come, I will test you.  See you the round knot on the stem of
yonder pine?  It is small truly, so small that I can barely see it,
nevertheless it is not more than half a bow-shot off.  Do you object to
make _that_ your mark?"

The words had scarcely left his lips when an arrow stood quivering in
the knot referred to.

With an exclamation and look of surprise Karlsefin said it must have
been a chance, and Biarne seemed inclined to hold the same opinion; but
while they were yet speaking, Hake planted another arrow close by the
side of the first.

"Once more, Hake," said Krake, who stood close behind the archer;
"there's a saying in Ireland that there's good fortune in odd numbers:
try it again."

The Scot readily complied, and sent a third shaft into the knot, with
its head touching the heads of the other two arrows.

"Enough, enough, your arms are as good as your legs," said Karlsefin.
"Ye are a valuable thrall, Hake, and Leif Ericsson has reason to be
grateful to King Olaf of Norway for his gift.--Here, two of you, sling
that deer on a pole and bear it to Gudrid.  Tell her how deftly it was
brought down, and relate what you have seen just now.  And hark 'ee," he
added, with a peculiar smile, "there is no occasion to say anything
about what occurred before the successful shot.  It always adds to the
value of a good story that it be briefly as well as pithily told, and
disencumbered from unnecessary details.  A wise tongue is that which
knows when to wag and when to lie still.--Come, Biarne, we will proceed
in our examination of this stream."

Leaving behind them the two men who were to return to the huts with the
deer, they proceeded down the banks of Little River, until they came to
the pool where Hake and his brother had seen the salmon leap.  On the
way down, however, the leader had been convinced of the fact that many
salmon were there, having seen several rise, and observed others passing
over some of the pebbly shallows.

"It was here, was it not," asked Biarne, "that you and your brother saw
the salmon leaping on the occasion of your first visit?"

"It was," replied Hake.

"At what part of the pool?"

"Just below the tail of the island, where the water is deep, and rolls
with numberless oily ripples."

"Ha! a likely spot," said Karlsefin.

At that moment a salmon leaped out of the pool, as if to assure him that
Hake's statement was true, and immediately afterwards another fish rose
and flourished its fan-like tail, as if to make assurance doubly sure.

For some time they went about examining that part of the river, which,
the reader will remember, has been described as being divided for some
distance by a long island into two streams, which again united after
spreading out into a broad rippling shallow.  Here Biarne was very
silent and very close in his inspection of the bed of the river,
particularly at the top and lower end of the island.

"It appears to me as if some plan were rolling in your head, Biarne,"
said Karlsefin; "what may it be?"

"Truly a plan is forming in my brain.  Simple enough too, only the
details require consideration."

"Well, we must now return home, so we can discuss it on the way."

"You know of our custom in Iceland," said Biarne, as they retraced their
steps, "in regard to a river which is similar to this in the matter of
having two channels--they shut off the water from one channel and catch
the fish when the bed is dry."

"Know it?  Ay, I know it well; why, man, how comes it that this did not
occur to me before?  We will have it tried, and that without delay.
What is worth doing at all is worth doing at once, unless it can be
clearly shown that there shall be distinct gain by delay.  As this
cannot be shown on the present occasion we will begin to-morrow."

Accordingly, in pursuance of this resolve, Karlsefin went down to the
island on Little River with a large party of men, and set to work.
Biarne undertook to superintend what may be termed the engineering
operations, and Thorward, who was a handy fellow, directed the
mechanical details.

First of all, Biarne fixed on the spot at the top of the island where a
dam was to be thrown across the right branch of the stream--that being
the channel which was to be run dry--and planned the direction in which
it was to be placed and the form it was to take.  Then strong stakes
were driven into the bed of the river all across the head of that
branch.  While this was being done Thorward marked off some tall
straight trees in the forest, and set men to cut them down, while
Karlsefin directed, and with his own hands aided, a party appointed to
collect large piles of earth, sand, stones, mud, and branches, on the
river's bank.

Although the men were numerous and active, the work was so extensive
that it was sunset before all the stakes were driven, the first of the
heavy logs laid down in the bed of the stream, and the rest of the
material collected in readiness on the banks.  Having completed these
preparations they returned to the huts and made arrangements for a grand
effort on the following day.

Early in the morning nearly the whole body of the people set off to
Little River, leaving the settlement in charge of one or two men who
chanced at that time to be sick.  Of course Olaf was with them, armed
with a huge iron hook fastened to the end of a stout pole.  All the
women also went, being quite as anxious as the men to witness the sport.

The island reached, Karlsefin divided his party into two bands.  The
smaller body, numbering about twenty-five, were stationed in the water
at the lower end of the channel, at equal distances from each other, so
as to extend from the tail of the island to the right bank of the
stream.  These carried strong poles about seven feet long, and were
placed there to frighten back any fish that might attempt to rush down
the river.  The rest of the men went in a body to the dam, and there
awaited orders.

When all was ready Karlsefin said to them--"My lads, if we would act
well we must act together.  Here is the plan on which you are to
proceed.  On getting the word from Biarne to begin, you will all set to
work to dam up the water, right across from this bank to the head of the
island.  You see that we have already done the work in part, so that it
only requires to be completed, and to have the centre gap stopped up.
That will be the difficult point, for the great rush of water will be
there, and you will have to do it quickly--to heave in the logs and
stones and rubbish, not forgetting the branches and the turf, which will
keep all together--as if your very lives depended on your speed.  A
certain number of you, who shall be told off presently, will do your
best at the same time to deepen the channel of the other branch of the
stream.  When this is done you will have a little breathing space, for
doubtless the water will take a little time to run off.  You will take
advantage of this time to get your hooks and poles and landing-nets in
readiness.  For the rest your own sense will guide you.--Now, Biarne,
tell off the men and go to work."

Reader, you should have seen the countenance of little Olaf Ericsson
when all this was being said and done!  Many a time had he seen nets
hauled and fish taken, and often had he dreamt of netting whales and
other sea-monsters, but never before had he imagined such a thing as
laying the bed of a river dry; and his exuberant fancy depicted to him
scenes which it is not possible to describe.  His visage glowed, and his
large blue eyes glared with excitement, while his little bosom heaved
and his heart beat high with expectation.

This condition of course increased tenfold when he saw the men cast off
more or less of their upper garments and spring to the work with the
energy of lunatics.  In his own small way he carried logs and branches
and mud and stones till he was as dirty and dishevelled as the best of
them; and when Gudrid looked horrified at him, and said that it would be
next to impossible to clean him, he burst into such a fit of laughter
that he lost his balance, fell head over heels into the river, which was
only knee-deep at the place, and came out more than half-washed in a
moment!

"You see it won't be so difficult as you think," he cried, laughing and
gasping when he emerged; "another plunge like that would make me quite
clean, aunty."

"Ho!  Olaf, were you after a salmon?" cried Swend, as he passed with a
large log on his shoulder.

"Not I, Swend; it was a whale I was after."

"You don't say that, boy?" cried Krake, in a tone of admiration.  "Was
he a big one?"

"Oh! frightful--so big that--that--I couldn't see him all."

"Couldn't see him _at all_?  Ah, then, he _was_ a big one, sure.  The
things we can't see at all are always the most wonderful."

"Foolish boy," said Gudrid; "come, I will wring the water out of your
clothes."

"'Tis hardly worth while, aunty," said Olaf, coming on shore; "I'll be
as wet, as ever in a few minutes."

The careful Gudrid nevertheless wrung as much water out of his dripping
garments as was possible without taking them off.  By the time this was
done the dam had been completed, and the men stood on the banks of the
river wiping off and wringing out the superabundant mud and water from
their clothes, besides getting ready hooks, nets, and staves.  Some of
the nets were several fathoms in length.  Others were small bags
fastened to wooden rings at the end of long poles.

Presently a shout was heard from the men at the lower end of the pool,
and they were seen to use their staves smartly several times, as some of
the fish, alarmed no doubt at the strange doings above, endeavoured to
shoot down the river.  Ere long the stony ground on which these men
stood became a rippling shallow, and, soon afterwards, a neck of land
connecting the lower end of the island with the shore.  They therefore
abandoned it and rejoined their comrades higher up.  The fish were now
imprisoned in a pool, retreat having been effectually cut off above and
below, and the whole river diverted into the bed of its left branch.

As the water lowered it became obvious that the pool thus isolated was
absolutely swarming with salmon, for they could be seen darting hither
and thither in shoals, making for the deeper parts of the pool, and
jostling one another under stones.  Gradually little islets began to
appear as the water continued to sink, and then the fish seemed to be
seized with a panic.  They shot like silver arrows from bank to bank--up
the pool and down again, as if enjoying a piscatorial country dance, or,
in blind flight, rushed clear out upon the pebbly islets, in half dozens
at a time, where they leaped, slid, twirled, and bounded frantically, in
what bore some resemblance to a piscatorial reel.  Then, slipping into
the water again, and recovering their fins and tails, they shot away to
encounter similar misfortune elsewhere, or to thrust their noses under
stones, and--entertaining the same delusive notions that are said to
characterise the ostrich--imagine that they were not seen!

By degrees the islets enlarged until they joined here and there, and,
finally, the state of things being inverted, the bed of the stream
became a series of little ponds, which were absolutely boiling with
fish--not unlike, as Krake remarked, to the boiling springs of Iceland,
only that those boiled with heat instead of with living fish.

And now commenced a scene such as, unquestionably, had not been
witnessed there since Vinland was created.  The Norsemen were half mad
with excitement.  The women ran up and down the banks clapping their
hands and shouting with delight, while Freydissa, unable to contain
herself, cast appearances to the dogs, leaped among the men, and joined
in the fray.

"The big pool first; this way, lads!" shouted Karlsefin, as he seized
the end of a long net and dragged it towards the pool in question.

Twenty willing hands assisted.  The net encircled the pool and was
thrust in; men with poles forced one side of it down to the bottom, and
the two ends were hauled upon might and main.  At the same moment, other
men went with hand nets to smaller pools, and, scooping up the fish,
sent them writhing and struggling through the air towards the bank,
where Gudrid, Thora, Astrid, Gunhild, Sigrid, and even timid Bertha,
sought in vain to restrain their struggles and prevent them from
wriggling back into the almost dry bed of the stream.

"Haul away with heart, men!" shouted Biarne, who was at one end of the
large net.

Already the stout ropes were strained to the uttermost--at last the net
came out bursting with salmon; more hands were hailed; it was run over
the pebbles, up the bank, and onwards to a flat open spot, where, with a
shout, it was emptied on the greensward.

Talk of silver bars!  The simile is wretched.  No simile is of any avail
here.  The brightest and freshest silver bars ever cast might shine as
much as these salmon did, but they could not glitter so, for they could
not wriggle and spring and tumble.  They could not show that delicate
pink which enhanced the silvery sheen so wondrously.  They could not
exhibit that vigorous life which told of firm flakes--suggestive of
glorious meals for many a day to come.  Pooh! even their intrinsic value
could not suggest anything in this case,--for all the silver bars that
ever were coined on earth could not have purchased the appetites which
made the mouths of these Norsemen to water, as they gazed in admiration
on that vast hecatomb of splendid salmon!  They absolutely danced round
the fish--it might almost be said they danced _with_ them--in triumphant
glee!

"Come, come," cried Karlsefin loudly; "to work! to work!  Ye may dance
after that is done.  Here, sweep this pool also."

With a cheer the men ran down the bank, and little Olaf followed, having
already used his hook with such effect that he had pulled six large fish
out of various holes and added them to the general pile.

"Take care, Olaf, that you don't fall in and get drowned," cried Biarne
as he ran past.

"Hurrah!" shouted Olaf, with a flourish of his weapon, which made the
narrowest possible miss of _cleeking_ Tyrker by the nose.

"Have a care!" roared the Turk.

"You've much need to say that," replied Olaf, with a laugh, for Tyrker
at that moment set his heel upon a salmon, fell, and rolled heavily down
the bank.  But Tyrker was tough.  He rose with a growl and a grin and
ran on to join his comrades.

A second pool was netted, and with the like result.  As the net was
being dragged forth, Olaf saw that several fish had escaped.  He struck
in his hook at random, for the pools, being by that time a thick
compound of mud and water, could not be seen into.

"Oh!  I've got him!" he shouted, struggling with the handle of his hook,
which jerked so violently that the sturdy little fellow was almost
thrown to the ground.

"Hold on!" cried Thorward, running to his aid.

"Why, Olaf, what's this?  Have a care.  Not too fast.  There.  Hallo!--
an eel."

And so it was--an enormous eel, that went twirling round the pole in
wondrous fashion until it freed itself, and, after twisting round the
limbs of Olaf and Thorward, who in vain sought to hold it fast, made off
over the wet stones as if they were its native element, and slid into
another large pool, where it disappeared.

"Never mind, Olaf," cried Thorward, with a laugh, "you'll catch hold of
it again.  Hook away at it, lad.  Don't give."

A tremendous shriek arose from the women on the bank at this juncture.

"Oh! look! look at Freydissa!" cried Gunhild, pointing wildly to the
river bed.

And there Freydissa stood--up to the arm-pits in mud and salmon!

Whether she had fallen in or been pushed in no one could tell, but
unquestionably she _was_ in, having gone in, too, head-foremost, so
that, although she had struggled right-end up she reappeared coated with
mud to an extent that might have suggested a sculptor's clay model--had
sculptors been known to the Norsemen of those days.

There was an irresistible roar of laughter at first, and then loud
expressions of condolence and sympathy, while a dozen strong, but wet
and dirty, hands were stretched forth to the rescue.

"Here, lay hold of my hand, poor thing," cried Krake; "there, now, don't
cry; it would only be wasting tears, with so much water on your face
already."

If anything could have made Freydissa cry it would have been that
remark, for it implied that she was inclined to weep, while nothing was
further from her thoughts at that time.

She did, however, grasp Krake's hand, but instead of aiding herself by
it to get out of the hole, she gave it such a vigorous and hearty pull
that Krake went souse into the mud beside her.  Before he could recover
himself Freydissa had put her knee on his body, and, using him as a
foot-rest, thrust him deeper down as she stepped out.

The delight with which this was hailed is beyond description, and many a
year passed after that before men grew tired of twitting Krake about the
pleasant mud-bath that had been given him by Freydissa on the occasion
of the celebrated take of salmon at Little River in Vinland.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

SAGE CONVERSE BETWEEN HAKE AND BERTHA--BIARNE IS OUTWITTED--A MONSTER IS
SLAIN, AND SAVAGES APPEAR ON THE SCENE.

Not long after this an event occurred which produced great excitement in
the new settlement; namely, the appearance of natives in the woods.  It
occurred under the following circumstances.

One morning Karlsefin gave orders for one of the exploring parties to be
got ready to go out immediately.  Karlsefin's plan from the beginning
had been to class his men in two divisions.  One half stayed at home to
work, the other half searched the land,--always taking care, however,
not to travel so far but that they could return home in the evening.
They were careful also not to wander far from each other.  Sometimes
Karlsefin went with the exploring party, at other times stayed at home
to superintend the work there, while Biarne or Thorward filled his
place.  On the occasion in question Biarne was in charge.

Soon after the party had started, Hake, who was one of them, observed a
female figure disappear round a copse near the shores of the lake.  At
that part they were about to strike off into the thick woods, so Hake
went up to Biarne and asked leave to go along by the borders of the
lake, saying that he could overtake the party again before they had
reached the Willow Glen, a well-known rendezvous of the hunters and
explorers of the colony.

"Go as thou wilt, Hake," replied Biarne; "only see to it that ye
overtake us before noon, as I intend to go on a totally new path
to-day."

The youth left with a light step, and, on overtaking the female, found,
as he had expected, that it was Bertha.

"You wander far from home to-day," he said, with a deferential
salutation, for Hake's bondage had not robbed him of his breeding.

"I love to wander," answered Bertha, blushing.

Poor Bertha, she could not help blushing.  It was her unfortunate nature
to do so.  When her feelings were touched--ever so little--she blushed,
and then she blushed _because_ she had blushed, and blushed again to
think herself so silly!

"I fear it may be somewhat dangerous to wander far," said Hake,
stopping, for Bertha had stopped and seated herself on the stump of a
fallen tree.

"Dangerous!  Why so?"

"Why, because Skraelingers may find us out any day, and if they should
come upon you unawares so far from home they might carry you off, and no
one would be aware that you were gone until too late to pursue."

"I never thought of that," returned Bertha, with a slightly troubled
look.  "Well, I shall be more careful in future.  But how come you to be
wandering here alone, Hake? did I not hear your name called this morning
among those appointed to go forth and search out what is good and
beautiful and useful in the land?"

"Most true, Bertha, and I have gone forth, and not gone far, and yet
have found something both good and beautiful and useful in the land."

"And pray what may that be?" asked the maiden, with a look of surprise.

Hake did not answer, but the expression of his eyes was more eloquent
than speech.

"Nay, then," said Bertha, looking hastily away, and again blushing--as a
matter of course!  "I am no reader of riddles; and I hate riddles--they
perplex me so.  Besides, I never could find them out.  But, Hake, has
your party gone yet?"

"Yes, some time ago."

"And are you left behind?"

"No, I have leave to go by the margin of the lake."

"Then if you put off time talking with me you will not find it easy to
overtake them; but I forgot: I suppose you count it an easy matter to
overtake ordinary men?"

"I shall not find it difficult," replied the youth briefly; and then,
perceiving that Bertha felt uneasy--apparently at the tenor of the
conversation--he quietly changed it by remarking that he preferred to
walk by the lake for several reasons, one of which was that it reminded
him of Scotland.

"Ah, you profess to love Scotland very much," said Bertha archly, "but
your brother evidently loves it more than you do."

"With good reason, too," replied Hake, "for it has given him a bride,
and it had no such favours for me."

"Indeed! what is her name?" asked the maiden, with much interest.

"Emma."

"Poor Emma," sighed Bertha; "but I hope that Heika will be freed one day
and return to his native land to wed Emma.  Perchance by that time
Scotland may smile upon you too, and give you cause to love it better."

"I love it well already," said Hake, with enthusiasm, "yet am I content
to stay here."

"For shame, Hake! you do not deserve to be a Scot if you mean what you
say."

"I mean what I say, yet do I deserve to be a Scot."

"Come, tell me, then, what this Scotland of yours is like.  I suppose
you deem it more beautiful than Iceland?"

The youth smiled.  "It is not more _wonderful_ than Iceland.  I can say
that with truth--but it is passing fair to look upon.  It is a land of
mountain and flood, of heath-clad braes and grassy knowes.  Its mountain
peaks rise bare and rugged to the skies, where lordly eagles soar.  Its
brawling burns in their infancy dash down these rugged steeps, but as
they grow older flow on through many a hazel dell, where thrush and
blackbird fill the woods with melody--through many flowering pastures,
where cattle browse and lambkins skip on the sunny braes.  Wild-fowl
breed on its reedy lochs, and moor-fowl dwell on its heather hills.  Its
waters teem with the spotted trout and the royal salmon.  Temperate
breezes fan its cheeks, and beauty, in form and colour, revels
everywhere.  Its sons are lovers of their native land, and its daughters
are wondrous fair."

"And yet it would seem," said Bertha, "that not one is fair enough for
you?"

"Nay, Bertha, thy speech is hardly fair.  The heart cannot command its
affection," said Hake, with a smile, "but I regret it not."

"And where does Emma dwell?" asked Bertha.

"Beside my father, near the shores of Forth, not far from a noted town
and castle that stand on the summit of a rocky ridge.  It is named after
Edwin, a Northumbrian king.  A sweet romantic spot--my own dear native
town.  Beside it stands a mountain, which, those who have travelled in
far southern lands tell us, bears some resemblance to a couching lion.
But I never saw a lion, and know not what truth there is in that."

"You almost make me wish to see that land," said Bertha, with a sigh.

"I would you might see it and that it were my fortune to show it to
you."

"That is not likely," said Bertha, with a little laugh.

"I know not.  The most unlikely things happen, and often those that seem
most likely do not come to pass.  What more unlikely than that Karlsefin
should forsake the religion of his fathers?  Yet Karlsefin is now a
Christian."

"Do you know, Hake, much about the nature of this new religion that has
come amongst us, and made so many people change?" asked Bertha, with
sudden earnestness.

"To say truth I don't know much about it.  Only this do I know, that
Karlsefin says the foundation of it is God and man united in Jesus
Christ, and that the guiding principle of it is _love_.  If so, it must
be a sweet religion, and, as far as Karlsefin is concerned, it seems
both good and true; but there are some of its professors whom I know
whose guiding star is self--not love--which goes rather against it,
methinks."

"You do not reason well, Hake; that is against the professors, not
against the religion."

"True; but this religion is said to change those who profess it--what if
they are not changed?"

"Why, then, they are _false_ professors," said Bertha, with a smile.

"It may be so; I know not.  But if you would have further light on the
point, Karlsefin will gladly give it you."

"Well, I will go find him and inquire," said Bertha, rising; "I have
kept you too long already from your comrades.--Farewell."

"Farewell, Bertha," replied the youth, gazing after her as she tripped
lightly away and disappeared behind a thicket.  Then, turning into the
woods, he went off at his utmost speed in the direction of the Willow
Glen.

"Just in time, Hake," said Biarne, as the Scot approached; "we are about
to start off westward to-day, and go as far inland as we can before
dark.  I have long had a desire to search out the land in that
direction.  From the distance of these blue ridges, the size of our lake
and river, and other signs, I am of opinion that this is a great land--
not an island."

"It may be so," replied Hake, looking round on the vast and beautiful
landscape; "I should like well to traverse it.  If a thrall may be
permitted to remark, I would say that a spirited chief would explore
somewhat farther than a day's march from home."

"Perchance a spirited chief might see fit to have his homestead put well
in order before undertaking explorations for his amusement," replied
Biarne, who was not much pleased with Hake's speech.

The Scot made no answer, and after that the party advanced to the
westward, sometimes clearing their way through dense thickets, sometimes
walking under the branching canopy of large trees, and frequently coming
to more open places, in many of which there were little ponds swarming
with wild-fowl.

Towards the afternoon they came to a rocky ridge which was crowned with
trees.  On the other side of it was a deep gorge, near the end of which
some large animal was observed sitting on its haunches.

"Hist! a brown bear!" whispered Biarne.

The bear looked up and growled, for it had heard the approach of the
party.  Nevertheless it appeared to be in a sluggish as well as a sulky
humour, for it gave no indication of any intention either to attack or
run away, but sat still on its haunches swaying its huge head and
shoulders to and fro, and glowering--as Krake said--horribly.

"A fierce monster truly!" observed Hake, fitting an arrow to his bow.

Biarne laid his hand on Hake's arm.

"Hast seen such a brute before?" he inquired.

"Not I," replied Hake.

"Wouldst like to see how the Skraelingers of Greenland treat the white
bears of their land, when so few as only two men chance to meet one in
this fashion?"

"I should like it well."

"Good--I will show you; but first I must explain the manner of it.  When
two Skraelingers see a bear they go up to him with spears.  On
approaching him they separate.  One settles that he is to kill him, the
other agrees to distract his attention.  He who is to kill approaches on
the side next the _heart_.  His comrade goes up and pricks the bear on
the _other_ side.  The bear turns full on him who wounds, exposes his
heart-side, and is instantly thrust through by him who is to kill.  Dost
understand?"

"Perfectly," replied Hake.

"Perhaps you would like to join me in such an adventure, though of
course there is some danger," said Biarne, who was very anxious to
punish Hake for his late advice by giving him a good fright.

Hake smiled in a grim fashion, and taking a short spear from one of his
comrades, looked at Biarne, pointed to the bear, and said:

"Come!"

They advanced together, Biarne also carrying a short spear, while their
comrades stood on the ridge and looked on with much interest.

When Bruin saw the two men approach, he got up and showed himself to be
an uncommonly large bear indeed, insomuch that Biarne glanced at Hake
with some anxiety, and asked if he felt sure of himself, and wasn't
frightened.

Hake laughed lightly, but made no other reply.

"Well, then, have a care, and see that ye be prompt in action.  I will
go to the left side and kill, being used to such work.  Do you separate
from me here and give him the prick on the right side.  Don't get
flurried.  We must approach and act together.  He seems inclined to meet
us half-way, and must not be trifled with; and, harkee, prick him well,
for methinks his hide will prove a tough one."

Hake nodded, and separated from his companion.  Seeing this the bear
stopped.  It had been advancing with a rapidly increasing step, growling
all the way, and with an extremely savage aspect, but this movement of
the enemy perplexed it.  Looking first on one side, and then on the
other, it remained in a state of uncertainty as to which of the two it
should attack.  The enemy took advantage of this--both men ran in upon
it.  As they did so the bear rose on its hind-legs, still glancing
savagely from one side to the other, and in this position appearing a
larger monster than it had seemed before.

"Give it him sharply!" cried Biarne, delaying his death-thrust till the
proper time.

Hake stepped close up to the bear, and plunged his spear into its side
with such vigorous good-will that it went straight through its heart,
and came out at the other side just under the shoulder.

With a tremendous roar it fell and writhed on the ground in a dying
state, while a loud cheer burst from the men on the ridge.

"Why did ye that?" cried Biarne fiercely, stepping up to Hake as though
he would strike him.  "Was it not arranged that _I_ should kill him?"

"The Fates arranged it otherwise," answered the Scot.  "I felt afraid
that my fears might weaken my arm.  To make sure, I gave him a good
thrust.  Besides, did you not tell me that his hide was tough, and
advise me to prick him well?"

Hake looked so innocent, and spoke so gently, that Biarne, who was a
good-natured fellow, laughed in spite of himself as he said--

"Truly thou didst prick him to some purpose.  Well, I do not grudge thee
the honour, and unquestionably it was deftly done.--Here, two of you,
stay behind and skin this fellow.  Cut off the best parts of the meat
also.  Bears of this kind are not bad for food, I dare say.  We will go
on a little farther, and return to you in a short time."

Saying this Biarne resumed his march, followed by the rest of the men.

They had not gone far, however, when one of the party uttered a sudden
exclamation, and pointed to footprints on a soft part of the ground.

"Perhaps the bear's footprints," said one.

"Too small and narrow for that," remarked another.

"We shall trace them till we come to soft ground and make certain," said
Biarne.

They did so, and after walking a hundred yards or so came to a sandy
piece, where the footprints were so clearly defined that there remained
no doubt they were those of a man.  That the marks had not been made by
any wandering member of their own band, was evident also from the form
of the sole of the shoe, as indicated by the prints.

"Now must we be ready to meet with men who may be foes, although I hope
they shall turn out to be friends," said Biarne.  "Come, Hake, there may
be need for haste, therefore do you hie back before us and inform
Karlsefin what we have seen.  We will follow as swiftly as may be, and
fetch your bear along with us."

Hake started off at a smart run without a word of reply, and never
paused a moment until he reached the hamlet, which he found in a
considerable state of confusion and excitement.

"What now?" demanded Karlsefin as Hake came forward.

"Strange footprints have been seen, and--"

"Strange footprints!" exclaimed Karlsefin.  "Why, man, strange _men_
have been seen by us, so I have stranger news to tell than thou.  Biarne
is returning, of course?"

"He is, with all the men, as fast as he can."

"That's well.  Now, Hake, get your weapons ready and help the men to
make preparations for the reception of the strangers.  I go to set the
ship in order."

Hake found, on inquiry, that one of a wood-cutting party having strayed
a little way beyond his fellows, but not far from the hamlet, had come
suddenly on a native who was crouching behind a rock and gazing intently
at the woodcutters.  He was at the moment fitting an arrow to the string
of a short bow which he carried, and was so absorbed that he did not at
first observe the Norseman.  The instant he saw him, however, he sprang
up and discharged an arrow, which the other avoided.  The savage
immediately turned to fly, but the Norseman sprang after him and struck
him to the ground.  At the same instant a dozen or more savages rushed
from the woods to the rescue, and the Norseman immediately ran back to
his comrades.  More savages appeared, and the Norsemen, seeing that they
were greatly outnumbered, retreated to the hamlet.  They were not
followed by the savages, but there could be no doubt that now the colony
had been discovered they were certain to receive a visit from them.
Whether that visit was likely to be amicable or otherwise remained to be
seen.

Meanwhile Karlsefin and his men did their best to put the place in a
state of defence.  A breastwork of large trees, which had been long ago
thrown all round the hamlet, was repaired and strengthened before dark,
and sentinels were posted around in all directions, so that when Biarne
arrived, somewhat late at night, he was amused as well as gratified to
find that unseen though well-known voices challenged him several times
as he drew near home, and that, finally, a rude but effectual barrier
stopped him altogether, until a friend from within conducted him to the
proper entrance.

Thus the night passed away without anything transpiring, and at last the
longed-for dawn appeared.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

A GREAT BUT COMPARATIVELY BLOODLESS FIGHT, WHICH ENDS PECULIARLY, AND
WITH SINGULAR RESULTS.

When the sun rose above the trees next day, Karlsefin began to think
that the natives had left the place, for there was no sign of them
anywhere, and he was about to issue from behind his defences and go out
to reconnoitre, when a man came running from the ship shouting
"Skraelingers!"

It is probable that by that term he meant savages generally, because the
men who had been seen bore very little resemblance to the hairy savages
of Greenland.  They were taller, though not stouter, and clothed in
well-dressed skins of animals, with many bright colours about them.  But
whatever they were, the sensation they created among the Norsemen was
considerable, for it was found, on going to the margin of the lake, that
they were now approaching in canoes by water.  This at once accounted
for the delay in their appearance.

That their intentions were hostile was plain from the fact that the
canoes came on abreast of each other in regular order, while the men
shouted fiercely and brandished their weapons.  There could not have
been fewer than three or four hundred of them.

Karlsefin saw at once that his only chance of saving the ship was to go
on board of it and fight on the water.

"Get on board all of you," he cried to those who stood beside him.
"Away, Biarne, Thorward, call in the outposts and have them on board
without delay.  Here, Swend, Heika, Tyrker, station the men as they
arrive.  Get up the war-screens round the sides of the ship; and,
harkee, give orders that the men use their weapons as little as
possible, and spare life.  I shall want you on the poop, Hake.  See that
no one throws down the gangway or loosens the ropes till the order is
given.  I will see to the women.--Away!"

Each man ran with speed to obey, for the case was urgent.

Karlsefin found the women, with Olaf, assembled in the large house
waiting for orders.

"Come," he cried; "not a moment to be lost.  Give me your hand, Gudrid."

He seized it as he spoke, and hurried down to the ship, where the men
were already trooping on board as fast as they could.  The women were
soon put under cover out of the reach of missiles, and in a few minutes
more all were on board.  Of course the cattle, and live stock generally,
being scattered about the hamlet, were left to their fate.  Then the
ropes were cast loose, the gangway was thrown down, the ship was pushed
out into the bay, and the anchor let go.

All this had barely been accomplished when the canoes came sweeping
round the nearest point of land and made straight for the ship, with the
foam curling at their bows.

Then Karlsefin's voice rose loud and clear as he issued his final
commands.

"My lads," he cried, "remember my orders about using your weapons as
little as possible.  Be careful to throw only the smaller stones.  Kill
no one if you can avoid it, but give as many of them the toothache as
you can.  We must be friends with these people if we are to live in
peace here, and that won't be possible if we kill many of them."

The men answered with a great shout, mingled with some laughter, which
latter was such a strange sound to hear on the eve of an engagement,
that the savages stopped short for a moment.  But soon they came on
again with redoubled impetuosity.

No sooner were they within range than the Norsemen rose up in a body and
hurled a shower of stones at them.  They were evidently not prepared for
such artillery, for they again stepped short, but after a brief pause
once more advanced.  Three times did they receive a shower of stones
before getting alongside.  These hurt many, but disabled none, for,
according to orders, no heavy stones were used.  When within a few yards
of the ship the canoes surrounded her and lay still while the savages
began to discharge arrows in abundance.  The Norsemen kept well behind
the shields, which formed a screen round the ship, and replied with
stones, only a few of the best marksmen using arrows, when they saw a
chance to wound without killing any of the foe.

Karlsefin stood exposed on the high poop with Hake and Heika beside him.
All three wore iron helmets, and the leader protected himself with his
shield.  Heika devoted his attention to warding off missiles from his
brother, who, having to use his bow, could not manage a shield.

Presently the savages made a grand assault.  But the moment they came to
close quarters they found that they had to cope with a formidable foe,
for the Norsemen, using only bludgeons, knocked them down whenever they
came within reach, and one or two of the boldest among them who
succeeded in clambering up the sides were seized by the legs and arms
and hurled back into the lake as if they had been mere puppets.

Thus beaten off they continued the arrow shower, and some of the
Norsemen were wounded.

All this time Karlsefin stood close to the helm, looking sharply about
him, and whenever he saw a savage who was bolder and stouter than his
fellows, he made Hake send an arrow through his right hand.  In this way
most of the best men among them were sent off howling with pain, and for
the time disabled.  Suddenly a very tall active savage succeeded in
clambering up by the rudder unobserved, and leaping on the poop, stood
behind Karlsefin with uplifted club.  Karlsefin, without turning quite
round, gave him a back-handed slap under the left ear and sent him
flying overboard.  He fell into a canoe in his descent and sank it.

At this juncture a number of the canoes were detached from the fight,
and Karlsefin observed, with much anxiety, that the savages were going
to ransack the houses.

"Would that I were on shore with twenty of my best men!" he said
bitterly.  "Send a shaft, Hake, at yonder fellow who leads.  It is out
of range, I fear, but--ha! well hit!" he exclaimed, on seeing an arrow
from Hake's prompt hand strike the man full in the back.  The savage
fell, and his comrades crowded round him.

By that time others of the canoes had put ashore, and their owners ran
up to the crowd who surrounded the fallen leader.

At this moment an incident occurred which put a most unexpected
termination to the fight.

For a considerable time Olaf's huge pet, Blackie, had viewed the fight
with calm indifference from the heart of a thicket close by, in which he
chanced to be cooling himself at the time.  Now, it happened that one of
the many arrows which were discharged by the savages on the offshore
side of the ship glanced from a neighbouring tree and hit the bull on
the flank.  Associating the pain resulting therefrom with the group of
savages before him, Blackie at once elevated his tail, lowered his head,
and, with a bellow that would have shamed a thousand trumpets, charged
furiously down upon the foe.

Horror-struck is but a feeble word to indicate the feelings of that foe!
Although, no doubt, some of them might have heard of, perhaps seen, the
ponderous and comparatively quiet bison of the Western prairies, none of
them had ever imagined anything so awful as a little black bull with
tremendous horns, blood-red nostrils, flashing eyes, and cat-like
activity.  One awe-struck look they gave it, and then fled howling into
the woods.  The sounds were so startling that those of the enemy still
round the ship were panic-stricken and made off by water as fast as
their fellows had escaped by land, leaving the Norsemen victorious!

"Hurrah for Blackie!" shouted Olaf, who was wild with excitement and
delight.

The cheer thus claimed was given with intense enthusiasm, and then the
ship was rowed back to the shore.

Here a great prize was found, in the shape of twenty canoes, which had
been left by the party that had fled to the woods.  These were carried
carefully up to the hamlet and placed in security.  On the way up
another prize was found, which afterwards turned out to be of the utmost
importance.  This was the wounded savage, who had been forsaken by his
friends when the bull charged, and who only escaped from the horns of
that infuriated animal by lying quite motionless beside a log which
fortunately chanced to be near him.

"Take care, Krake; lift him gently," said Biarne, as he came up and
found that worthy turning the poor savage over as if he had been already
a dead carcase.  "Let me see; the arrow does not seem to have gone far
in.  He'll recover, perhaps.  Come, Hake and Swend, lift his shoulders,
and run, Olaf, tell Astrid or one of the other women to--ha!  Bertha,
well met.  Here is a subject for your care.  You are a good nurse, I'm
told."

"I try to be," replied Bertha.

"She who tries to be is sure to be," returned Biarne; "nursing, like
fighting, is an art, and must be acquired; though, to say truth, some
folk seem born to learn more rapidly than others, whether as regards
nursing or fighting.  Have the poor fellow into the house, and do your
best for him, Bertha."

While this was being said the native was lying on his back, looking very
stern, but pale.  It is probable that the poor wretch expected to be
taken off summarily to have his eyes punched out, or to be roasted
alive,--for the natives of Vinland, no doubt, expected from their foes,
in those days, the same treatment that they accorded to them--although
the Saga says nothing to that effect.  When, therefore, he was put into
a comfortable bed, had his wound dressed, and an agreeable though
strange drink given to him by the fair hands of Bertha, the expression
of his countenance seemed to imply that he believed himself to have
passed from earth and got into the happy hunting-grounds of his fathers.
If so, the increasing pain of his wound must have perplexed him not a
little.  However, it is due to him to say that he bore his surprises and
pains with the uncomplaining resignation of a Stoic.

Karlsefin employed the remainder of that day in strengthening his
defences and connecting them in such a way with that part of the shore
where his vessel lay, that there would be no possibility of surrounding
him in the event of future hostilities.

This accomplished, he organised his men into three bands, which were to
be commanded respectively by Biarne, Thorward, and himself.  These were
appointed to particular localities and duties in the little fortress--
for it was now almost entitled to such an appellation.  When night drew
on, sentinels were posted as before.  But there was no alarm during the
night.  The savages appeared to have had enough of fighting for that
time, and next morning's sun arose, as it was wont to do, on a peaceful
scene.

"Do you think they will attack us again?" asked Gudrid as she sat at
breakfast.

"I think not," replied her husband.  "They cannot but know that we are
troublesome fellows to deal with, even when taken unawares."

"I hope they won't go off without giving us a chance to show that we
desire to be friendly," observed Thorward.

"No fear of that," said Biarne; "we have got one of their chiefs--at
least I think he is so, for he looks like one--and that is as good as a
string tied to their great toe."

"By the way, how _is_ the chief, Bertha?" asked Karlsefin.

"Much better this morning.  He slept well, and is even now sitting up on
his bed.  He looked so well, indeed, that I took the precaution to
fasten the door on the outside when I left him just now."

"Ha!  Didst fasten the window, wench?" cried Thorward, starting up and
hastening from the room.

"Truly, no," remarked the girl, with a somewhat confused look; "I never
thought of the window."

Thorward returned a minute later with a peculiar smile.

"He's all safe," said he; "I peeped through a small shot-hole in the
parchment, and saw him sitting there meditating as deeply as if he hoped
to meditate himself out of his prison."

"Not a difficult thing to do that," said Karlsefin.  "I suspect that
most prisoners manage to free themselves in that way pretty often!  But
who comes here in such hot haste?  Why, Swend, what's i' the wind now?"

"The Skraelingers are coming," said he.  "They come unarmed, and only
ten of them."

"Oho! good," exclaimed Karlsefin, rising.  "Come, methinks I see my way
out of this difficulty.  Fetch me nine of our smartest men, Biarne.  I
will go forth with them unarmed, to meet those messengers of peace.  You
and Thorward will keep the defences, to be ready for any emergency.  Let
the Scottish brothers be among the nine."

When the selected men had assembled, their leader took them aside and
conferred with them for a few minutes, after which he led them towards
that part of the defences nearest the woods, when they saw the ten
natives approaching holding up their empty hands and making other
demonstrations of a peaceful nature.  Far away on the heights in the
background the whole army of savages could be seen watching the
proceedings of their messengers.

When these latter had come within about a hundred yards of the hamlet,
they selected a low grassy knoll in an open spot, in full view of both
parties.  Here they sat down in a row and made signs to the Norsemen to
approach.

"Now, lads, we will accept their invitation," said Karlsefin; "follow
me."

With that he passed through the opening in the defences, holding up his
hands as he went to show that he was unarmed, his followers doing the
same.  Karlsefin went up to the native who appeared to be the chief of
the band, and, with a bland smile, took his hand gently and shook it.

If the savage did not understand the shake of the hand, he evidently
understood the smile, for he returned it and sat down again.  Karlsefin
and his men did the same, and for a few moments the two rows of men sat
looking benignantly at one another in silence.  The savage chief then
spoke.  Of course Karlsefin shook his head and touched his ear, brow,
and lips, by way of intimating that he heard, but could neither
understand nor reply.  He then spoke Norse, with similar results.  After
that the savage leader rose up, touched his back, and fell down as if
badly wounded.  Upon this one of his comrades rose, pointed to the
hamlet, lifted the wounded man in his arms, carried him behind his
companions, and laid him down exclaiming "Utway!" whereupon another
savage took a small bundle of beautiful furs from the ground, and laid
them at the feet of Karlsefin with much humility.

"Sure he wants to buy back the wounded chief with these furs," said
Krake, who found it difficult to conceal his amusement at all this dumb
show.

"No doubt of it, and I suppose Utway is his name," replied Karlsefin;
"but my object is to get them inside the defences, in order to show them
that when we have them in our power we will treat them well.  If I let
their chief go for these furs nothing will have been gained."

Karlsefin now did his best, by means of signs and encouraging looks, to
induce the ten natives to enter the hamlet, but no persuasion would
induce them to do this.  They held stoutly to their original
proposition, and kept constantly pointing to the bundle of furs and
going through the pantomime with the wounded man.  At last Karlsefin
appeared to agree to their proposal.

"Now, Heika and Hake," said he, "nothing remains to be done but to try
the plan I have described to you.  Up, and bring the wounded chief
hither without delay."

The two men obeyed, and in a few minutes were seen re-issuing from the
fortress bearing a litter between them, on which lay the wounded chief
with a blanket thrown over him, only his head being visible.  Carrying
him towards the row of natives, the brothers laid the burden at their
feet as they sat still on the ground looking on with great interest.
Karlsefin removed the blanket, and revealed the chief bound hand and
foot.  Something covered by another blanket lay at his side.  Karlsefin
took hold of this.  As he did so the Norsemen rose.  The blanket was
cast off, and ten naked swords were revealed, which were instantly
grasped by ten stalwart arms, and flashed with the speed of light over
the ten native heads!

Taken thus by surprise they remained seated, and, supposing that to move
would be the signal for instant death, they were perfectly motionless,
though the colour of their countenances revealed to some extent the
state of their feelings.

A terrific yell from the distant heights told that the deed had been
noticed and understood.  It was answered by a shout from the Norsemen as
they issued from their fortress, secured their prisoners, and carried
them within the defences.  In a few minutes thereafter not a man was to
be seen on the heights, and the region became as silent and apparently
as deserted as it had been before the advent of the savages.

"Now then, Biarne, get the things ready.  Is the kettle boiling?" said
Karlsefin.

"All is prepared," answered Biarne.

"'Tis well.  We must carry out our plan as quickly as may be," rejoined
Karlsefin.  "We may be sure that these fellows have only retired behind
the heights to hold a council of war, and, in their present humour, it
won't be long before they come on to make an effort to retaliate upon us
for our supposed treachery."

The ten men were conveyed to the largest house in the hamlet, and there
ranged in a row against the wall.  They looked very grave, but were firm
and stern.  Evidently they imagined that death by torture was to be
their doom, and had braced themselves up to die like brave men in the
presence of their foes.

Karlsefin hastened to relieve them from this state of mind as quickly as
possible.  He placed before them ten plates of splendid boiled salmon.
They regarded this proceeding with some surprise, but shook their heads
and refused to eat.  Doubtless their appetites were not good at the
time!

"Fetch the wounded chief hither," said Karlsefin, "and tell Bertha that
she is wanted."

When the wounded man was carried in and seated opposite to his comrades,
a box being placed for him to lean against, Karlsefin said to
Bertha--"Now, lass, do thy best to induce the chief to show his friends
how to eat.  He has had some experience of you, and will doubtless
understand."

With a winning smile that would have compelled any susceptible man to
eat or drink, or do anything else that he was bid whether inclined or
not, Bertha put a plate of salmon before the chief and made signs to him
to eat.  He smiled in return, and began at once.  Then Bertha patted him
on the shoulder, pointed to the ten prisoners, and made signs again.
The chief smiled intelligently, and spoke to his companions.  He
evidently said more than was necessary to order them to eat, for their
faces brightened perceptibly, and they commenced dinner in these
peculiar circumstances without delay.

It was clear that their appetites had not been much impaired by alarm,
for the salmon disappeared in a twinkling.  Then Karlsefin ordered ten
plates of fried venison to be placed before them, which was done, and
they applied themselves to the consumption of this with equal relish.
Having concluded the repast, each man received a can of warm water and
milk, highly sweetened with sugar.  At first they took a doubtful sip of
this, and looked at each other in surprise.  It was a new sensation!
One of them smacked his lips; the rest said "Waugh!" nodded their heads,
and drained their cans to the bottom at a single draught; after which,
observing that there was some sediment left, they scraped it out with
their fingers and sucked them.

"So far that is satisfactory," said Karlsefin, with a smile.  "Now,
Biarne--the gifts."

A wooden tray was now brought, on which lay a variety of silver
brooches, rings, and other baubles.  These were distributed to the
prisoners.  Last of all, each received a yard of bright-coloured cloth,
and then they were ordered by signs to rise.

They obeyed with alacrity, and were led out of the house, at the door of
which they found a litter similar to the one which they had seen before.
It was simply a blanket fastened to two long poles, and rolled round
them so as to form a couch of about a yard in width.  On this the
wounded chief was laid, and two of the natives were ordered to grasp the
ends of the poles and raise him.  They did so, and were conducted by the
Norsemen in single file out into the forest.  Here, to their intense
surprise, Karlsefin shook hands with them all very kindly, and then,
going back with his men to the fortress, left them to return to their
kindred!

Karlsefin remarked quietly to Biarne, as he went along, that one of the
precepts of the new religion, which he had remembered well, because it
seemed to him so very wise, was, that men should always try to "overcome
evil with good."

Thus was established a warm friendship between the natives of Vinland
and the Norsemen; a friendship which might have lasted for ever--to the
great modification, no doubt, of American history--had not unfortunate
circumstances intervened to break it up.  As it was, it lasted for a
considerable time.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE FIRST AMERICAN FUR TRADERS--STRANGE DEVICES--ANXIOUS TIMES AND
PLEASANT DISCOVERIES.

The business of the colony progressed admirably after this.  A large
house was erected, with a central hall and numerous sleeping-rooms or
closets off it, where all the chief people dwelt together, and a number
of the men messed daily.  Grass was found in abundance, and a large
quantity of this was cut and stacked for winter use, although there was
good reason to believe that the winter would be so mild that the cattle
might be left out to forage for themselves.  Salmon were also caught in
great numbers, not only in Little River but in the main stream, and in
the lake at their very doors.  What they did not consume was dried,
smoked, and stored.  Besides this, a large quantity of fine timber was
felled, squared, cut into lengths, and made suitable for exportation.
Eggs were found on the islands offshore, and feathers collected, so that
early in the summer they had more than enough wherewith to load the
ship.  Among other discoveries they found grain growing wild.  The
Saga-writers have called it wheat, but it is open to question whether it
was not wild rice, of which large quantities grow in the uninhabited
parts of America at the present time.  They also found a beautiful kind
of wood, called massurwood, of which samples were sent to Greenland and
Norway; but what this wood really was we cannot tell.

Meanwhile an extensive traffic in valuable furs was commenced with the
natives, who were more than satisfied with the scraps of bright cloth,
beads, and other trifling ornaments they received in exchange for them.
Some of the natives wanted to purchase weapons with their furs, but
Karlsefin would not allow this.  At first the Norsemen gave their cloth
and other wares in exchange with liberal hand, cutting the bright cloth
into stripes of three or four inches in breadth; but they soon found
that at this rate their supplies would become exhausted too early in the
year.  They therefore reduced their prices, and began to give stripes of
cloth only two inches in width, and at last reduced the measure to one
inch, for furs that had previously fetched four.  But the
unsophisticated natives were quite content with the change, and appeared
to enjoy nothing so much as to twist these stripes of cloth into their
long black hair.

One day Karlsefin said to Gudrid that he had a new plan in his head.

"What is that?" said she.

"I think that our goods are going away too fast, so I mean to try if
these Skraelingers will give their furs for dairy produce.  We have a
good deal of that, and can spare some."

"I don't know how Astrid will like that," she said, laughing.  "You know
she has charge of the dairy, and is very proud of it."

"That is well, Gudrid, for Astrid will be all the more pleased to have
her produce turned to such good account.  Milk is pleasant to the
throat, and cream delights the tongue.  Methinks these fellows will be
tempted by it."

"Would they not like beer better?"

"Beer!" cried Karlsefin, with a shout of laughter.  "You should have
seen the faces they made, and the way they spat it out, the only time
they were asked to taste it.  Biarne was very keen to let them try it,
and I did not object, for I partly expected some such result.  No, no, a
man must _learn_ to like beer.  Nature teaches him to like milk.  But
go, tell Astrid to fill twenty cans with milk, and twenty small cups
with good cream.  Let her also set out twenty cakes, with a pat of fresh
butter and a lump of cheese on each.  Let her spread all on the table in
the great hall, and see that she does it speedily.  I will go and fetch
the company to this feast."

He left the room as he spoke, and in less than an hour his orders had
been executed.  When he entered the hall a short time afterwards,
followed by twenty natives, he found everything prepared according to
his directions.

That he was correct in his expectation was clearly proved ere many
minutes had passed, for the twenty natives raised their forty eyes, and
looked on each other with rapturous delight when they tasted the good
things.  They finished them in a twinkling, and then wished for more;
but it is only justice to their good-breeding and self-restraint to add
that they did not _ask_ for more!  From that day nothing would please
them but that they should have dairy produce for their furs.

Some time after this Karlsefin was walking, one afternoon, on the shores
of the lake with Thorward.  He suddenly asked him how he should like to
take a trip to Greenland.

"I should like it well," replied Thorward.

"Then if you will go in charge of the _Snake_ I should be pleased," said
the other, "for we have collected more than enough of merchandise to
fill her, and if you set sail at once you will have time to bring back a
cargo of such things as we need before autumn comes to an end."

"I will go," said Thorward, "to-morrow, if you choose."

"Nay, not quite so fast.  The ship is only half loaded yet; but in a day
or two she will be ready.  There are two things I am anxious you should
manage.  One is to persuade Leif Ericsson to come and visit us,--if he
will not come to stay with us.  The other is to tempt as many married
men as you can to come over and join us--especially those men who chance
to have a good many daughters, for we would be the better of a few more
busy little hands, fair faces, and silvery tones in this beautiful
Vinland of ours."

"I will do what I can," replied Thorward, "and I would advise that Olaf
should go with me, that his glowing descriptions may tempt his father to
come."

"Nay; that would spoil all," objected Karlsefin, "for, having had a
sight of his son he would be content to let him come back alone.  No,
no; we will keep Olaf here as a bait to tempt him.  But go now and make
your arrangements, for you set sail as soon as the ship is ready."

Not long after that the _Snake_ left her anchorage with a full cargo,
rowed down the river, hoisted sail, and bore away for Greenland.

While she was gone an event of deep and absorbing interest occurred in
Vinland.

One fine morning in autumn the heart of the entire hamlet was moved by
the sound of a new voice!  It was not a musical voice--rather squawky,
indeed, than otherwise--and it was a feeble voice, that told of utter
helplessness.  In short, a son had been born to Karlsefin and Gudrid,
and they called him Snorro.  We record it with regret--for it went a
long way to prove that, in regard to sweet sounds, Karlsefin and his
wife were destitute of taste.  It is our business, however, to record
facts rather than to carp at them, therefore we let Snorro pass without
further comment.

The little body that was attached to the little voice, although far from
beautiful at first, was an object of intense affection to the parents,
and of regard, almost amounting to veneration, to the rugged men by whom
it was surrounded.  Bertha declared enthusiastically that it was
"perfectly lovely," although it was obvious to all unprejudiced eyes
that it resembled nothing so much as a piece of wrinkled beef of bad
colour!  Astrid declared that it had "such a wise look," despite the
evident fact that its expression was little short of idiotical!
Karlsefin said nothing, but he smiled a good deal, and chucked it under
the place where its chin ought to have been with his great forefinger in
a timid way.

But when Snorro was deemed sufficiently far advanced in life to be
handed out for public exhibition, then it was that the greatest number
of falsehoods were uttered, with the quietest deliberation, although, to
say truth, the greater number of the men said nothing, but contented
themselves with taking the infant in their big rough hands as delicately
as if they thought it was a bubble, and feared that it might burst and
leave nothing to be handed back to Thora, who acted the part of nurse.
Others merely ventured to look at it silently with their hairy lips
parted and their huge eyes gazing in blank admiration.

Perhaps Krake made the most original remark in reference to the
newcomer.  "Ah," said he quite seriously, touching its cheek as softly
as though he half feared it would bite, "only to think that myself was
like _that_ once!"

This was received with a shout of laughter, so loud that little Snorro
was startled.

"Ah, then," cried Krake, with a look of great alarm, "what is it going
to do?"

This question was occasioned by the sudden change on the infant's
countenance, which became, if possible, redder than before, and puckered
up into such a complicated series of wrinkles that all semblance to
humanity was well-nigh lost.  Suddenly a hole opened on the surface and
a feeble squall came forth!

"Oh, you wicked men!" cried Thora, snatching the infant indignantly from
them and hurrying back into the house.

"'Tis a sweet child," observed Swend tenderly, as he and his comrades
sauntered away.

"You must have a good opinion of yourself, Krake," said Tyrker, "to
fancy that you were once like it."

"So I have," replied Krake.  "It's what my father had before me.  It
lies in the family, you see, and with good reason too, for we were the
best of company, not to mention fighting.  It was always said that we
were uncommonly fine infants, though a trifle big and noisy for the
peace of our neighbourhood--quite like Turks in that way, I believe!"

"I doubt it not, Krake," said Biarne, who came up in time to hear the
concluding remark; "and since you are such a noisy fellow I am going to
send you on an expedition in search of these vines, that seem to me to
have rooted themselves out of the land and fled, from mere spite, since
Leif named it Vinland.  There is but one quarter that I can think of now
which has not yet been explored; you may take a party of men, and let
Tyrker go too; as he discovered them on his first visit, the stupid
fellow ought to have re-discovered them long before now.  You can
discuss by the way the little matter you have in hand,--only see that
you don't fall out about it."

Thus instructed, Krake organised a party, and set off to search for the
celebrated vines, which, as Biarne said, had not up to that time been
found.

That day they searched far and wide without success.  Then they sat down
to rest and eat.  While thus engaged, Krake and Tyrker returned to the
subject of the reported noisiness of Turks, and the former became so
caustic in his jests that the irascible little Tyrker lost temper, much
to the amusement of his comrades.

After refreshing themselves, the explorers again set out and came to a
part of the country which was broken up and beautifully diversified by
rocky eminences crowned with trees, and shady hollows carpeted with
wild-flowers.  It was difficult here to decide as to which of the
innumerable valleys or hollows they should traverse; they therefore sat
down again for a little to consult, but the consultation soon became a
discussion, and Krake, whose spirit of fun had got the better of him,
gradually edged the talk round until it came again, quite in a natural
way, to the Turks.  At last Tyrker became so angry that he started up,
declared he would follow the party no longer, plunged into a thicket and
disappeared.

He was followed by a shout of laughter, and then the others, rising,
resumed their search, not doubting that their irate companion would ere
long rejoin them.

But Tyrker did not join them, and when evening drew on apace they became
anxious, gave up the search for vines, and went about looking for him.
At last it became too dark for them to continue the search, and they
were obliged to return home without their comrade.

On leaving them Tyrker had no definite idea what he meant to do or where
he meant to go.  He just walked straight before him in high dudgeon,
taking no notice of the route by which he journeyed, or the flight of
time.  At length he awoke from his absent condition of mind and looked
up.  A vast amphitheatre of wooded hills surrounded him, and there, in
the heart of a secluded dell, under a clump of trees, were the long
sought and much-desired vines!

For some time Tyrker stood gazing at them in silent admiration and
delight.  He rubbed his eyes and looked again.  Yes; there could be no
question as to their reality.  There hung the rich purple clusters such
as he had seen on his first visit to Vinland, and such as he had been
wont to see in his own land in days long gone by.  He pinched himself,
pulled his hair, punched his eyeballs, but no--all that failed to awaken
him; from which circumstance he naturally came to the conclusion that he
was awake already.  He then uttered a wild, probably a Turkish, cheer,
and rushed upon the spoil.

Filling both hands with the fruit he crammed his mouth full.  Then he
raised his eyes upwards in ecstasy and did it again.  He repeated it!
After which he paused to sigh, and leaped up to cheer and sat down again
to--guzzle!  Pardon the word, good reader, it is appropriate, for there
is no disguising the fact that Tyrker was a tremendous glutton, and did
not care a fig--or a grape--for appearances.

After eating for a long time he was satisfied and sat down to rest.  By
that time the shades of evening were falling.  They proved to be
soporific, for he gradually reclined backwards on the green turf and
fell asleep, surrounded by and partially covered with grapes, like a
drunken and disorderly Bacchus.

Now Tyrker was a man in robust health; full of energy and high spirits.
Sleep therefore was to him a process which, once begun, continued till
morning.  Even the puckered little Snorro did not rest more soundly in
his kneading-trough crib than did Tyrker on the greensward under his
vinous canopy.

When next he opened his eyes, groaned, rolled over, sat up, and yawned,
the sun was beginning to peep above the eastern sea.

"Ho!" exclaimed Tyrker.  "I have forgot myself."  To refresh his memory
he scratched his head and shook it; then he raised his eyes, saw the
grapes, leaped up and burst into a fit of joyous laughter.

Thereafter he again sat down and breakfasted, after which he filled his
cap, his wallet, his various pockets, the breast of his coat--every
available compartment, in fact, outside as well as in--with grapes, and
hastened homeward at his utmost speed in order to communicate the joyful
news to his comrades.

Now the disappearance of Tyrker had caused no small amount of anxiety to
his friends at the hamlet, especially to Karlsefin, who was very fond of
him, and who feared that his strength might have given way, or that he
had fallen into the hands of savages or under the paws of bears.  He sat
up the greater part of the night watching and hoping for his return, and
when the first grey light of dawn appeared he called up a number of the
men, and, dividing them into several bands, organised a systematic
search.

Placing himself at the head of one band he went off in the direction in
which, from Krake's account of what had taken place, it seemed most
probable that Tyrker might be found.  They advanced so rapidly that when
the sun rose they had got to within a mile or so of the spot where Krake
and his party had given up their search on the previous evening.  Thus
it came to pass that before the red sun had ascended the eastern sky by
much more than his own height, Karlsefin and Tyrker met face to face in
a narrow gorge.

They stopped and gazed at each other for a few moments in silence,
Karlsefin in astonishment as well--and no wonder, for the figure that
stood before him was a passing strange one.  To behold Tyrker thus
dishevelled and besmeared was surprising enough, but to see him with
grapes and vine-leaves stuffed all about him and twined all round him
was absolutely astounding.  His behaviour was little less so, for,
clapping his hands to his sides, he shut his eyes, opened his big mouth,
and burst into an uproarious fit of laughter.

The men who came up at that moment did so also for laughter is catching.

"Why, Tyrker, where have you been?" demanded Karlsefin.

"Grapes!" shouted Tyrker, and laughed again.

"Are these grapes?" asked Karlsefin, regarding the fruit with much
interest.

"Ay, grapes! vines!  Vinland! hurrah!"

"But are you sure?"

Instead of answering, Tyrker laughed again and began to talk, as he
always did when greatly moved, in Turkish.  Altogether he was so much
excited that Krake said he was certainly drunk.

"Drunk!" exclaimed Tyrker, again using the Norse language; "no, that is
not possible.  A man could not get drunk on grapes if he were to eat a
ship-load of them.  I am only joyful--happy, happy as I can be.  It
seems as if my young days had returned again with these grapes.  I am
drunk with old thoughts and memories.  I am back again in Turkey!"

"Ye couldn't be in a worse place if all accounts be true," said Krake,
with a grin.  "Come, don't keep all the grapes to yourself; let us taste
them."

"Ay, let us taste them," said Karlsefin, advancing and plucking a bunch
from Tyrker's shoulders.

The others did the same, tasted them, and pronounced the fruit
excellent.

"Now, lads, we will make the strong drink from the grapes," said Tyrker.
"I don't know quite how to do it, but we will soon find out."

"That you certainly shall not if I can prevent it," said Karlsefin
firmly.

Tyrker looked a little surprised, and asked why not.

"Because if the effect of eating grapes is so powerful, drinking the
strong drink of the grape must be dangerous.  Why do you wish to make
it?"

"Why? because--because--it _does_ make one so happy."

"You told us just now," returned Karlsefin, "that you were _as happy as
you could be_, did you not?  You cannot be happier than that--therefore,
according to your own showing, Tyrker, there is no need of strong
drink."

"That's for you," whispered Krake to Tyrker, with a wink, as he poked
him in the side.  "Go to sleep upon that advice, man, and it'll do ye
good--if it don't do ye harm!"

"Ease him of part of his load, boys, and we shall go back the way we
came as fast as may be."

Each man relieved Tyrker of several bunches of grapes, so that in a few
minutes he resumed his own ordinary appearance.  They then retraced
their steps, and soon afterwards presented to the women the first grapes
of Vinland.  Karlsefin carried a chosen bunch to Gudrid, who, after
thanking him heartily, stuffed a grape into the hole in Snorro's
puckered visage and nearly choked him.  Thus narrowly did the first
Yankee (for such one of his own countrymen has claimed him to be) escape
being killed by the first-fruits of his native land!



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

GREENLAND AGAIN--FLATFACE TURNS UP, ALSO THORWARD, WHO BECOMES ELOQUENT
AND SECURES RECRUITS FOR VINLAND.

Who has not heard of that solitary step which lies between the sublime
and the ridiculous?  The very question may seem ridiculous.  And who has
not, at one period or another of life, been led to make comparisons to
that step?  Why then should we hesitate to confess that the step in
question has been suggested by the brevity of that other step which lies
between the beautiful and the plain, the luxuriant and the barren, the
fruitful and the sterile--which step we now call upon the reader to
take, by accompanying us from Vinland's shady groves to Greenland's
rocky shores.

Leif Ericsson is there, standing on the end of the wharf at Brattalid--
bold, stalwart, and upright, as he was when, some years before, he
opened up the way to Vinland.  Flatface the Skraelinger is there too--
stout, hairy, and as suggestive of a frying-pan as he was when, on
murderous deeds intent, not very long before, he had led his hairy
friends on tiptoe to the confines of Brattalid, and was made almost to
leap out of his oily skin with terror.

But his terror by this time was gone.  He and the Norsemen had been
reconciled, very much to the advantage of both, and his tribe was, just
then, encamped on the other side of the ridge.

Leif had learned a little of the Skraelinger tongue; Flatface had
acquired a little less of the Norse language--and a pretty mess they
made of it between them!  As we are under the necessity of rendering
both into English, we beg the reader's forbearance and consideration.

"So you are going off on a sealing expedition, are you?" said Leif,
turning from the contemplation of the horizon, and regarding the
Skraelinger with a comical smile.

"Yis, yo, ha, hooroo!" said Flatface, waving his arms violently to add
force to his reply.

"And when do you go?" asked Leif.

"W'en?  E go skrumch en cracker smorrow."

"Just so," replied Leif, "only I can't quite make that cracker out
unless you mean _to-morrow_."

"Yis, yo, ha!" exclaimed the hairy man.  "Kite right, kite right,
smorrow, yis, to-morrow."

"You're a wonderful man," remarked Leif, with a smile.  "You'll speak
Norse like a Norseman if you live long enough."

"Eh!" exclaimed the Skraelinger, with a perplexed look.

"When are you to be back?" asked Leif.

Flatface immediately pointed to the moon, which, although it was broad
daylight at the time, showed a remarkably white face in the blue sky,
and, doubling his fist, hit himself four blows on the bridge of his
nose, or rather on the spot where the bridge of that feature should have
been, but where, as it happened, there was only a hollow in the
frying-pan, with a little blob below it.

"Ha, four months.  Very good.  It will be a good riddance; for, to say
truth, I'm tired of you and your noisy relations."

Leif said this more as a soliloquy than a remark, for he had no
intention of hurting the feelings of the poor savage, who, he was aware,
could not understand him.  Turning again to him, he said--"You know the
kitchen, Flatface?"  Flatface said nothing, but rolled his eyes, nodded
violently, and rubbed that region which is chiefly concerned with food.

"Go," said Leif, "tell Anders to give you food--food--food!"

At each mention of the word Flatface retreated a step and nodded.  When
Leif stopped he turned about, and with an exclamation of delight,
trundled off to the kitchen like a good-natured polar bear.

For full half an hour after that Leif walked up and down the wharf with
his eyes cast down; evidently he was brooding over something.  Presently
Anders came towards him.

Anders was a burly middle-aged Norseman, with a happy-looking
countenance; he was also cook, steward, valet, and general factotum to
Leif.

"Well, Anders, hast had a visit from Flatface?" asked Leif.

"Ay--he is in the kitchen now."

"Hast fed him?"

"Ay, gorged him," replied Anders, with a grin.

"Good," said Leif, laughing; "he goes off to-morrow, it seems, for four
months, which I'm right glad to hear, for we have had him and his
kindred long enough beside us for this time.  I am sorry on account of
the Christian teachers, however, because they were making some progress
with the language, and this will throw them back."

Leif here referred to men who had recently been sent to Greenland by
King Olaf Tryggvisson of Norway, with the design of planting
Christianity there, and some of whom appeared to be very anxious to
acquire the language of the natives.  Leif himself had kept somewhat
aloof from these teachers of the new faith.  He had indeed suffered
himself to be baptized, when on a visit to Norway, in order to please
the King; but he was a very reserved man, and no one knew exactly what
opinions he held in regard to religion.  Of course he had been
originally trained in the Odin-worship of his forefathers, but he was a
remarkably shrewd man, and people said that he did not hold by it very
strongly.  No one ever ventured to ask him what he held until the
teachers above mentioned came.  When they tried to find out his opinions
he quietly, and with much urbanity, asked to be informed as to some of
the details of that which they had come to teach, and so managed the
conversation that, without hurting their feelings, he sent them away
from him as wise as they came.  But although Leif was silent he was very
observant, and people said that he noted what was going on keenly--which
was indeed the case.

"I know not what the teachers think," said Anders, with a careless air,
"but it is my opinion that they won't make much of the Skraelingers, and
the Skraelingers are not worth making much of."

"There thou art wrong, Anders," said Leif, with much gravity; "does not
Flatface love his wife and children as much as you love yours?"

"I suppose he does."

"Is not his flesh and blood the same as thine, his body as well knit
together as thine, and as well suited to its purposes?"

"Doubtless it is, though somewhat uglier."

"Does he not support his family as well as thou dost, and labour more
severely than thou for that purpose?  Is he not a better hunter, too,
and a faster walker, and fully as much thought of and prized by his
kindred?"

"All that may be very true," replied Anders carelessly.

"Then," pursued Leif, "if the Skraelingers be apparently as good as thou
art, how can ye say that they are not worth making much of?"

"Truly, on the same ground that I say that I myself am not worth making
much of.  I neither know nor care anything about the matter.  Only this
am I sure of, that the Skraelingers do not serve you, master, as well as
I do."

"Anders, thou art incorrigible!" said Leif, smiling; "but I admit the
truth of your last remark; so now, if ye will come up to the house and
do for me, to some extent, what ye have just done to Flatface, ye will
add greatly to the service of which thou hast spoken."

"I follow, master," said Anders; "but would it not be well, first, to
wait and see which of our people are returning to us, for, if I mistake
not, yonder is a boat's sail coming round the ness."

"A _boat's_ sail!" exclaimed Leif eagerly, as he gazed at the sail in
question; "why, man, if your eyes were as good as those of Flatface, ye
would have seen that yonder sail belongs to a ship.  My own eyes have
been turned inward the last half hour, else must I have observed it
sooner."

"It seems to me but a boat," said Anders.

"I tell thee it is a ship!" cried Leif; "ay, and if my eyes do not
deceive, it is the ship of Karlsefin.  Go, call out the people quickly,
and see that they come armed.  There is no saying who may be in
possession of the ship now."

Anders hastened away, and Leif, after gazing at the approaching vessel a
little longer, walked up to the house, where some of his house-carls
were hastily arming, and where he received from the hands of an old
female servant his sword, helmet, and shield.

The people of Brattalid were soon all assembled on the shore, anxiously
awaiting the arrival of the ship, and an active boy was sent round to
Heriulfness, to convey the news to the people there--for in Greenland
the arrival of a ship was of rare occurrence in those days.

As the ship drew near, all doubt as to her being Karlsefin's vessel was
removed, and, when she came close to land, great was the anxiety of the
people to make out the faces that appeared above the bulwarks.

"That is Karlsefin," said one.  "I know his form of face well."

"No, it is Biarne," cried another.  "Karlsefin is taller by half a
foot."

"'Tis Thorward," said a third.  "I'd know his face among a thousand."

"There seem to be no women with them," observed Anders, who stood at the
end of the wharf near his master.

"Does any one see Olaf?" asked Leif.

"No--no," replied several voices.

When the ship was near enough Leif shouted--"Is Olaf on board?"

"No!" replied Thorward, in a stentorian voice.

Leif's countenance fell.

"Is all well in Vinland?" he shouted.

"All is well," was the reply.

Leif's countenance brightened, and in a few minutes he was shaking
Thorward heartily by the hand.

"Why did ye not bring my son?" said Leif, somewhat reproachfully, as
they went up to the house together.

"We thought it best to try to induce you to go to him rather than bring
him to you," answered Thorward, smiling.  "You must come back with me,
Leif.  You cannot conceive what a splendid country it is.  It far
surpasses Iceland and Norway.  As to Greenland, it should not be named
in the same breath."

Leif made no reply at that time, but seemed to ponder the proposal.

"Now we shall feast, Thorward," said Leif, as he entered the hall.  "Ho!
lay the tables, good woman.--Come, Anders, see that ye load it well.
Have all the house-carls gathered; I will go fetch in our neighbours,
and we shall hear what Thorward has to say of this Vinland that we have
heard so much about of late."

Leif's instructions were promptly and energetically carried out.  The
tables were spread with all the delicacies of the season that Greenland
had to boast of, which consisted chiefly of fish and wild-fowl, with
seal's flesh instead of beef, for nearly all the cattle had been carried
off by the emigrants, as we have seen, and the few that were left behind
had died for want of proper food.  The banquet was largely improved by
Thorward, who loaded the table with smoked salmon.  After the dishes had
been removed and the tankards of beer sent round, Thorward began to
relate his story to greedy ears.

He was very graphic in his descriptions, and possessed the power of
detailing even commonplace conversations in such a way that they became
interesting.  He had a great deal of quiet humour, too, which frequently
convulsed his hearers with laughter.  In short, he gave such a
fascinating account of the new land, that when the people retired to
rest that night, there was scarcely a man, woman, or child among them
who did not long to emigrate without delay.  This was just what Thorward
desired.

Next day he unloaded the ship, and the sight of her cargo fully
confirmed many parts of his story.  The upshot of it was that Leif
agreed to go and spend the winter in Vinland, and a considerable number
of married men made up their minds to emigrate with their wives and
families.

Having discharged cargo and taken in a large supply of such goods as
were most needed at the new colony, Thorward prepared for sea.  Leif
placed Anders in charge of his establishment, and, about grey dawn of a
beautiful morning, the _Snake_ once again shook out her square sail to
the breeze and set sail for Vinland.



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

JOYFUL MEETINGS AND HEARTY GREETINGS.

Need we attempt to describe the joy of our friends in Vinland, when, one
afternoon towards the end of autumn, they saw their old ship sweep into
the lake under oars and sail, and cast anchor in the bay?  We think not.

The reader must possess but a small power of fancy who cannot, without
the aid of description, call up vividly the gladsome faces of men and
women when they saw the familiar vessel appear, and beheld the bulwarks
crowded with well-known faces.  Besides, words cannot paint Olaf's
sparkling eyes, and the scream of delight when he recognised his father
standing in sedate gravity on the poop.

Suffice it to say that the joy culminated at night, as human joys not
unfrequently do, in a feast, at which, as a matter of course, the whole
story of the arrival and settlement in Vinland was told over again to
the newcomers, as if it had never been told before.  But there was this
advantage in the telling, that instead of all being told by Thorward,
each man gave his own version of his own doings, or, at all events,
delegated the telling to a friend who was likely to do him justice.
Sometimes one or another undertook that friendly act, without having it
laid upon him.  Thus, Krake undertook to relate the discovery of the
grapes by Tyrker, and Tyrker retaliated by giving an account of the
accident in connexion with a mud-hole that had happened to Krake.  This
brought out Biarne, who went into a still more minute account of that
event with reference to its bearing on Freydissa, and that gentle woman
revenged herself by giving an account of the manner in which Hake had
robbed Biarne of the honour of killing a brown bear, the mention of
which ferocious animal naturally suggested to Olaf the brave deed of his
dear pet the black bull, to a narrative of which he craved and obtained
attention.  From the black bull to the baby was an easy and natural
transition--more so perhaps than may appear at first sight--for the bull
suggested the cows, and the cows the milk, which last naturally led to
thoughts of the great consumer thereof.

It is right to say here, however, that the baby was among the first
objects presented to Leif and his friends after their arrival; and great
was the interest with which they viewed this first-born of the American
land.  The wrinkles, by the way, were gone by that time.  They had been
filled up so completely that the place where they once were resembled a
fair and smooth round ball of fresh butter, with two bright blue holes
in it, a knob below them, and a ripe cherry underneath that.

Snorro happened to be particularly amiable when first presented to his
new friends.  Of course he had not at that time reached the crowing or
smiling age.  His goodness as yet was negative.  He did not squall; he
did not screw up his face into inconceivable formations; he did not grow
alarmingly red in the face; he did not insist on having milk, seeing
that he had already had as much as he could possibly hold--no, he did
none of these things, but lay in Gudrid's arms, the very embodiment of
stolid and expressionless indifference to all earthly things--those who
loved him best included.

But this state of "goodness" did not last long.  He soon began to
display what may be styled the old-Adamic part of his nature, and
induced Leif, after much long-suffering, to suggest that "that would
do," and that "he had better be taken away!"

The effervescence of the colony caused by this infusion of new elements
ere long settled down.  The immigrants took part in the general labour
and duties.  Timber-cutting, grape-gathering, hay-making, fishing,
hunting, exploring, eating, drinking, and sleeping, went on with
unabated vigour, and thus, gradually, autumn merged into winter.

But winter did not bring in its train the total change that these
Norsemen had been accustomed to in their more northern homes.  The
season was to them comparatively mild.  True, there was a good deal of
snow, and it frequently gave to the branches of the trees that silvery
coating which, in sunshine, converts the winter forest into the very
realms of fairyland; but the snow did not lie deep on the ground, or
prevent the cattle from remaining out and finding food all the winter.
There was ice, also, on the lake, thick enough to admit of walking on
it, and sledging with ponies, but not thick enough to prevent them
cutting easily through it, and fishing with lines and hooks, made of
bone and baited with bits of fat, with which they caught enormous trout,
little short of salmon in size, and quite as good for food.

Daring the winter there was plenty of occupation for every one in the
colony.  For one thing, it cost a large number of the best men constant
and hard labour merely to supply the colonists with firewood and food.
Then the felling of timber for export was carried on during winter as
easily as in summer, and the trapping of wild animals for their furs was
a prolific branch of industry.  Sometimes the men changed their work for
the sake of variety.  The hunters occasionally took to fishing, the
fishers to timber felling and squaring, the timber-cutters to trapping;
the trappers undertook the work of the firewood-cutters, and these
latter relieved the men who performed the duties of furniture-making,
repairing, general home-work and guarding the settlement.  Thus the work
went on, and circled round.

Of course all this implied a vast deal of tear and wear.  Buttons had
not at that time been invented, but tags could burst off as well as
buttons, and loops were not warranted to last for ever, any more than
button-holes.  Socks were unknown to those hardy pioneers, but soft
leather shoes, not unlike mocassins, and boots resembling those of the
Esquimaux of the present day, were constantly wearing out, and needed to
be replaced or repaired; hence the women of the colony had their hands
full, for, besides these renovating duties which devolved on them, they
had also the housekeeping--a duty in itself calling for an amount of
constant labour, anxiety, and attention which that ridiculous creature
_man_ never can or will understand or appreciate--at least so the women
say, but, being a man, we incline to differ from them as to that!

Then, when each day's work was over, the men returned to their several
abodes tired and hungry.  Arrangements had been made that so many men
should dwell and mess together, and the women were so appointed that
each mess was properly looked after.  Thus the men found cheerful fires,
clean hearths, spread tables, smoking viands, and a pleasant welcome on
their return home; and, after supper, were wont to spend the evenings in
recounting their day's experiences, telling sagas, singing songs, or
discussing general principles--a species of discussion, by the way,
which must certainly have originated in Eden after the Fall!

In Karlsefin's large hall the largest number of men and women were
nightly assembled, and there the time was spent much in the same way,
but with this difference, that the heads of the settlement were
naturally appealed to in disputed matters, and conversation frequently
merged into something like orations from Leif and Biarne Karlsefin and
Thorward, all of whom were far-travelled, well-informed, and capable of
sustaining the interest of their audiences for a prolonged period.

In those days the art of writing was unknown among the Norsemen, and it
was their custom to fix the history of their great achievements, as well
as much of their more domestic doings, in their memories by means of
song and story.  Men gifted with powers of composition in prose and
verse undertook to enshrine deeds and incidents in appropriate language
at the time of their occurrence, and these scalds or poets, and saga-men
or chroniclers, although they might perhaps have _coloured_ their
narratives and poems slightly, were not likely to have falsified them,
because they were at first related and sung in the presence of actors
and eye-witnesses, to attempt imposition on whom would have been useless
as well as ridiculous.  Hence those old songs and sagas had their
foundation in truth.  After they were once launched into the memories of
men, the form of words, doubtless, tended to protect them to some extent
from adulteration, and even when all allowance is made for man's
well-known tendency to invent and exaggerate, it still remains likely
that _all_ the truth would be retained, although surrounded more or less
with fiction.  To distinguish the true from the false in such cases is
not so difficult a process as one at first sight might suppose.  Men
with penetrating minds and retentive memories, who are trained to such
work, are swift to detect the chaff amongst the wheat, and although in
their winnowing operations they may frequently blow away a few grains of
wheat, they seldom or never accept any of the chaff as good grain.

We urge all this upon the reader, because the narratives and poems which
were composed and related by Karlsefin and his friends that winter,
doubtless contained those truths which were not taken out of the
traditionary state, collected and committed to writing by the Icelandic
saga-writers, until about one hundred years afterwards, at the end of
the eleventh or beginning of the twelfth century.

On these winter evenings, too, Karlsefin sometimes broached the subject
of the new religion, which had been so recently introduced into
Greenland.  He told them that he had not received much instruction in
it, so that he could not presume to explain it all to them, but added
that he had become acquainted with the name and some of the precepts of
Jesus Christ, and these last, he said, seemed to him so good and so true
that he now believed in Him who taught them, and would not exchange that
belief for all the riches of this world, "for," said he, "the world we
dwell in is passing away--that to which we go shall never pass away."
His chief delight in the new religion was that Jesus Christ was
described as a Saviour from sin, and he thought that to be delivered
from wicked thoughts in the heart and wicked deeds of the body was the
surest road to perfect happiness.

The Norsemen listened to all this with profound interest, for none of
them were so much wedded to their old religion as to feel any jealousy
of the new; but although they thought much about it, they spoke little,
for all were aware that the two religions could not go together--the
acceptance of the one implied the rejection of the other.

Frequently during the winter Karlsefin and Leif had earnest
conversations about the prospects of the infant colony.

"Leif," said Karlsefin, one day, "my mind is troubled."

"That is bad," replied Leif; "what troubles it?"

"The thoughts that crowd upon me in regard to this settlement."

"I marvel not at that," returned Leif, stopping and looking across the
lake, on the margin of which they were walking; "your charge is a heavy
one, calling for earnest thought and careful management.  But what is
the particular view that gives you uneasiness?"

"Why, the fact that it does not stand on a foundation which is likely to
be permanent.  A house may not be very large, but if its foundation be
good it will stand.  If, however, its foundation be bad, then the bigger
and grander it is, so much the worse for the house."

"That is true.  Go on."

"Well, it seems to me that the foundation of our settlement is not good.
It is true that some of us have our wives here, and there is, besides,
a sprinkling of young girls, who are being courted by some of the men;
nevertheless it remains a stubborn truth that far the greater part of
the men are those who came out with Thorward and me, and have left
either wives or sweethearts in Norway and in Iceland.  Now these may be
pleased to remain here for a time, but it cannot be expected that they
will sit down contentedly and make it their home."

"There is truth in what you say, Karlsefin.  Have any of your men spoken
on that subject?"

"No, none as yet; but I have not failed to note that some of them are
not so cheerful and hearty as they used to be."

"What is to prevent you making a voyage to Iceland and Norway next
spring," said Leif, "and bringing out the wives and families, and, if
you can, the sweethearts of these men?"

Karlsefin laughed heartily at this suggestion.  "Why, Leif," he said,
"has your sojourn on the barren coast of Greenland so wrought on your
good sense, or your feelings, that you should suppose thirty or forty
families will agree at once to leave home and kindred to sail for and
settle in a new land of the West that they have barely,--perhaps never--
heard of; and think you that sweethearts have so few lovers at home that
they will jump at those who are farthest away from them?  It is one
thing to take time and trouble to collect men and households that are
willing to emigrate; it is another thing altogether to induce households
to follow men who have already emigrated."

"Nay, but I would counsel you to take the men home along with you, so
that they might use their persuasions," returned Leif; "but, as you say,
it is not a likely course to take, even in that way.  What, then, do you
think, is wisest to be done?"

"I cannot yet reply to that, Leif.  I see no course open."

"Tell me, Karlsefin, how is it with yourself?" asked Leif, looking
earnestly at his friend.  "Are you content to dwell here?"

Karlsefin did not reply for a few seconds.

"Well, to tell you the truth," he said at length, "I do not relish the
notion of calling Vinland _home_.  The sea is my home.  I have dwelt on
it the greater part of my life.  I love its free breezes and surging
waves.  The very smell of its salt spray brings pleasant memories to my
soul.  I cannot brook the solid earth.  While I walk I feel as if I were
glued to it, and when I lie down I am too still.  It is like death.  On
the sea, whether I stand, or walk, or lie, I am ever bounding on.  Yes;
the sea is my native home, and when old age constrains me to forsake it,
and take to the land, my home must be in Iceland."

"Truly if that be your state of mind," said Leif, laughing, "there is
little hope of your finally coming to an anchor here."

"But," continued Karlsefin, less energetically, "it would not be right
in me to forsake those whom I have led hither.  I am bound to remain by
and aid them as long as they are willing to stay--at least until they do
not require my services."

"That is well spoken, friend," said Leif.  "Thou art indeed so bound.
Now, what I would counsel is this, that you should spend another year,
or perhaps two more years, in Vinland, and at the end of that time it
will be pretty plain either that the colony is going to flourish and can
do without you, or that it is advisable to forsake it and return home.
Meanwhile I would advise that you give the land a fair trial.  Put a
good face on it; keep the men busy--for that is the way to keep them
cheerful and contented, always being careful not to overwork them--
provide amusements for their leisure hours if possible, and keep them
from thinking too much of absent wives and sweethearts--if you can."

"_If I can_," repeated Karlsefin, with a smile; "ay, but I don't think I
can.  However, your advice seems good, so I will adopt it; and as I
shall be able to follow it out all the better with your aid, I hope that
you will spend next winter with us."

"I agree to that," said Leif; "but I must first visit Greenland in
spring, and then return to you.  And now, tell me what you think of the
two thralls King Olaf sent me."

Karlsefin's brow clouded a little as he replied that they were excellent
men in all respects--cheerful, willing, and brave.

"So should I have expected of men sent to me by the King," said Leif,
"but I have noticed that the elder is very sad.  Does he pine for his
native land, think ye?"

"Doubtless he does," answered Karlsefin; "but I am tempted to think that
he, like some others among us, pines for an absent sweetheart."

"Not unlikely, not unlikely," observed Leif, looking gravely at the
ground.  "And the younger lad, Hake, what of him?  He, I think, seems
well enough pleased to remain, if one may judge from his manner and
countenance."

"There is reason for that," returned Karlsefin, with a recurrence of the
troubled expression.  "The truth is that Hake is in love with Bertha."

"The thrall?" exclaimed Leif.

"Ay, and he has gone the length of speaking to her of love; I know it,
for I heard him."

"What! does Karlsefin condescend to turn eavesdropper?" said Leif,
looking at his friend in surprise.

"Not so, but I chanced to come within earshot at the close of an
interview they had, and heard a few words in spite of myself.  It was in
summer.  I was walking through the woods, and suddenly heard voices near
me in the heart of a copse through which I must needs pass.  Thinking
nothing about it I advanced and saw Hake and Bertha partially concealed
by the bushes.  Suddenly Hake cried passionately, `I cannot help it,
Bertha.  I _must_ tell you that I love you if I should die for it;' to
which Bertha replied, `It is useless, Hake; neither Leif nor Karlsefin
will consent, and I shall never oppose their will.'  Then Hake said,
`You are right, Bertha, right--forgive me--.'  At this point I felt
ashamed of standing still, and turned back lest I should overhear more."

"He is a thrall--a thrall," murmured Leif sternly, as if musing.

"And yet he is a Scottish earl's son," said Karlsefin.  "It does seem a
hard case to be a thrall.  I wonder if the new religion teaches anything
regarding thraldom."

Leif looked up quickly into his friend's face, but Karlsefin had turned
his head aside as if in meditation, and no further allusion was made to
that subject by either of them.

"Do you think that Bertha returns Hake's love?" asked Leif, after a few
minutes.

"There can be no doubt of that," said Karlsefin, laughing; "the colour
of her cheek, the glance of her eye, and the tones of her voice, are all
tell-tale.  But since the day I have mentioned they have evidently held
more aloof from each other."

"That is well," said Leif, somewhat sternly.  "Bertha is free-born.  She
shall not wed a thrall if he were the son of fifty Scottish earls."

This speech was altogether so unlike what might have been expected from
one of Leif's kind and gentle nature that Karlsefin looked at him in
some astonishment and seemed about to speak, but Leif kept his frowning
eyes steadily on the ground, and the two friends walked the remainder of
the road to the hamlet in perfect silence.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

TREATS OF THE FRIENDSHIP AND ADVENTURES OF OLAF AND SNORRO, AND OF
SUNDRY SURPRISING INCIDENTS.

We must now pass over a considerable period of time, and carry our story
forward to the spring of the third year after the settlement of the
Norsemen in Vinland.

During that interval matters had progressed much in the same way as we
have already described, only that the natives had become a little more
exacting in their demands while engaged in barter, and were, on the
whole, rather more pugnacious and less easily pleased.  There had been a
threatening of hostilities once or twice, but, owing to Karlsefin's
pacific policy, no open rupture had taken place.

During that interval, too, Leif had made two trips to Greenland and
back; a considerable amount of merchandise had been sent home; a few
more colonists had arrived, and a few of the original ones had left;
Thorward's ship had been also brought to Vinland; and last, but not
least, Snorro had grown into a most magnificent baby!

Things were in this felicitous condition when, early one beautiful
spring morning, Snorro resolved to have a ramble.  Snorro was by that
time barely able to walk, and he did it after a peculiar fashion of his
own.  He had also begun to make a few desperate efforts to talk; but
even Gudrid was forced to admit that, in regard to both walking and
talking, there was great room for improvement.

Now, it must be told that little Olaf was particularly fond of Snorro,
and, if one might judge from appearances, Snorro reciprocated the
attachment.  Whenever Snorro happened to be missed, it was generally
understood that Olaf had him.  If any one chanced to ask the question,
"Where is Snorro?" the almost invariable reply was, "Ask Olaf."  In the
event of Olaf _not_ having him, it was quite unnecessary for any one to
ask where he was, because the manner in which he raged about the hamlet
shouting, howling, absolutely yelling, for "O'af!" was a sufficient
indication of his whereabouts.

It was customary for Olaf not only to tend and nurse Snorro, in a
general way, when at home, but to take him out for little walks and
rides in the forest--himself being the horse.  At first these delightful
expeditions were very short, but as Snorro's legs developed, and his
mother became more accustomed to his absences, they were considerably
extended.  Nevertheless a limit was marked out, beyond which Olaf was
forbidden to take him, and experience had proved that Olaf was a
trustworthy boy.  It must be remembered here, that although he had grown
apace during these two years, Olaf was himself but a small boy, with the
clustering golden curls and the red chubby cheeks with which he had left
Greenland.

As we have said, then, Snorro resolved to have a walk one fine spring
morning of the year one thousand and ten--or thereabouts.  In the
furtherance of his design he staggered across the hall, where Gudrid had
left him for those fatal "few minutes" during which children of all ages
and climes have invariably availed themselves of their opportunity!
Coming to a serious impediment in the shape of the door-step, he paused,
plucked up heart, and tumbled over it into the road.  Gathering himself
up, he staggered onward through the village shouting his usual
cry,--"O'af!  O'af!  O'AF!  O-o-o!" with his wonted vigour.

But "O'af" was deaf to the touching appeal.  He chanced to have gone
away that morning with Biarne and Hake to visit a bear-trap.  A little
black bear had been found in it crushed and dead beneath the heavy tree
that formed the _drop_ of the trap.  This bear had been slung on a pole
between the two men, and the party were returning home in triumph at the
time that Snorro set up his cry, but they were not quite within earshot.

Finding that his cries were not attended to, Snorro staggered out of the
village into the forest a short way, and there, standing in the middle
of the path, began again,--"O'af!  O'af!  O'AF!  O-o-o!"

Still there was no reply; therefore Snorro, stirred by the blood which
had descended to him through a long line of illustrious and warlike
sea-kings, lost his temper, stamped his feet, and screeched with
passion.

Nothing resulting, he changed his mood, shouted "O'af!" once more, in
heartrending accents, and--with his eyes half-shut and mouth wide open,
his arms and hands helplessly pendent, his legs astraddle, and his whole
aspect what is expressively styled in the Norse tongue begrutten--howled
in abject despair!

In this condition he was found by the bear party not many minutes later,
and in another moment he was sobbing out his heart and sorrows into the
sympathetic bosom of his dearly-loved friend.

"What is it, Snorrie?  What's the matter?" inquired Olaf tenderly.

"Hik!--Me--hup!--O!--want--hif!--wak," replied the sobbing child.

"It wants to walk, does it?  So it shall, my bold little man.  There,
dry its eyes and get on my back, hup!--now, away we go!  I'll be back
soon," he said to Biarne, who stood laughing at them.  "Be sure that you
keep the claws of the bear for me.--Now, Snorrie, off and away! hurrah!"

"Hoo'ah!" echoed Snorro, as, holding tight with both his fat arms round
Olaf's neck, he was borne away into the wilderness.

Olaf's usual mode of proceeding was as follows:

First he dashed along the track of the woodcutters for about half a
mile.  It was a good broad track, which at first had been cleared by the
axe, and afterwards well beaten by the constant passage of men and
horses with heavy loads of timber.  Then he stopped and set Snorro on
his legs, and, going down on his knees before him, laughed in his face.
You may be sure that Snorro returned the laugh with right good-will.

"Whereaway next, Snorrie?"

"Away! a-way!" shouted the child, throwing up his arms, losing his
balance, and falling plump--in sedentary fashion.

"Ay, anywhere you please; that means, no doubt, up to the sun or moon,
if possible!  But come, it must walk a bit now.  Give me its hand, old
man."

Snorro was obedient to Olaf--and, reader, that was an amazing triumph of
love, for to no one else, not even to his mother, did he accord
obedience.  He quietly took his guide's hand, trotted along by his side,
and listened wonderingly while he chatted of trees, and flowers, and
birds, and squirrels, and wild beasts, just as if he understood every
word that Olaf said.

But Snorro's obedience was not perfect.  Olaf's pace being regulated by
his spirits, Snorro soon began to pant, and suddenly pulled up with a
violent "'Top!"

"Ho! is it tired?" cried Olaf, seizing him and throwing him over his
shoulder into the old position.  "Well, then, off we go again!"

He not only went off at a run, but he went off the track also at this
point, and struck across country straight through the woods in the
direction of a certain ridge, which was the limit beyond which he was
forbidden to go.

It was an elevated ridge, which commanded a fine view of the surrounding
country, being higher than the tree-tops, and was a favourite resort of
Olaf when he went out to ramble with Snorro.  Beyond it lay a land that
was unknown to Olaf, because that part of the forest was so dense that
even the men avoided it in their expeditions, and selected more open and
easier routes.  Olaf, who was only allowed to accompany the men on short
excursions, had never gone beyond the ridge in that direction.  He
longed to do so, however, and many a time had he, while playing with
Snorro on the ridge, gazed with ever increasing curiosity into the deep
shades beyond, and wondered what was there!  To gaze at a forbidden
object is dangerous.  We have already said that Olaf was a trustworthy
boy, but he was not immaculate.  He not only sometimes wished to have
his own way, but now and then took it.  On this particular occasion he
gave way, alas! to temptation.

"Snorro," said he, after sitting under a tree for a considerable time
basking in the checkered sunshine with the child beside him, "Snorro,
why should not you and I have a peep into that dark forest?"

"Eh?" said Snorro, who understood him not.

"It would be great fun," pursued Olaf.  "The shade would be so pleasant
in a hot day like this, and we would not go far.  What does it think?"

"Ho!" said Snorro, who thought and cared nothing at all about it, for he
happened to be engaged just then in crushing a quantity of wild-flowers
in his fat hands.

"I see it is not inclined to talk much to-day.  Well, come, get on my
back, and we shall have just one peep--just one run into it--and then
out again."

Error number one.  Smelling forbidden fruit is the sure prelude to the
eating of it!

He took the child on his back, descended the hill, and entered the thick
forest.

The scene that met his gaze was indeed well calculated to delight a
romantic boy.  He found that the part of the woods immediately around
him consisted of tall straight trees with thick umbrageous tops, the
stems of which seemed like pillars supporting a vast roof; and through
between these stems he could see a vista of smaller stems which appeared
absolutely endless.  There was no grass on the ground, but a species of
soft moss, into which he sank ankle-deep, yet not so deep as to render
walking difficult.  In one direction the distance looked intensely blue,
in another it was almost black, while, just before him, a long way off,
there was a bright sunny spot with what appeared to be the glittering
waters of a pond in the midst of it.

The whole scene was both beautiful and strange to Olaf, and would have
filled him with intense delight, if he could only have got rid of that
uncomfortable feeling about its being forbidden ground!  However, having
fairly got into the scrape, he thought he might as well go through with
it.

Error number two.  Having become impressed with the fact that he had
sinned, he ought to have turned back _at once_.  "In for a penny, in for
a pound," is about the worst motto that ever was invented.  Interpreted,
it means, "Having done a little mischief, I'll shut my eyes and go
crashing into all iniquity."  As well might one say, "Having burnt my
finger, I'll shove my whole body into the fire!"

But Olaf did not take time to think.  He pushed boldly forward in the
direction of the lake.  As he drew near he found the moss becoming
softer and deeper, besides being rather wet.  Going a few steps further,
he found that it changed into a swamp.

"Ho!  Snorrie, this is dangerous ground," he said, turning back; "we'll
take a round-about and try to get to the lake by a drier way."

He did so, but the more he diverged towards dry ground the more did the
swamp force him to one side, until it compelled him to go out of sight
of the pond altogether.

"Now, isn't that vexin'?" he said, looking about him.

"Iss," replied Snorro, who was becoming sleepy, and had laid his head on
his friend's shoulder.

"Well, as we can't get to the lake, and as this is rather a wild place,
we'll just turn back now and get out of it as fast as we can."

"Iss," murmured Snorro, with a deep sigh.

Olaf turned back and made for the edge of the wood.  He was so long of
coming to it that he began to be somewhat surprised, and looked about
him a little more carefully, but the tall straight stems were all so
much alike that they afforded him no clue to his way out of the wood.
Young though he was, Olaf knew enough of woodcraft to be able to steer
his course by the sun; but the sky had become clouded, and the direction
of the sun could not be ascertained through the dense foliage overhead.
He now became seriously alarmed.  His heart beat against his ribs as if
it wanted to get out, and he started off at a run in the direction in
which, he felt sure, the ridge lay.  Becoming tired and still more
alarmed, he changed his course, eagerly advanced for a short time,
hesitated, changed his course again, and finally stopped altogether, as
the terrible fact flashed upon him that he was really lost in the woods.
He set Snorro on the ground, and, sitting down beside him, burst into
tears.

We need scarcely say that poor Olaf was neither a timid nor an
effeminate boy.  It was not for himself that he thus gave way.  It was
the sudden opening of his eyes to the terrible consequences of his
disobedience that unmanned him.  His quick mind perceived at once that
little Snorro would soon die of cold and hunger if he failed to find his
way out of that wilderness; and when he thought of this, and of the
awful misery that would thus descend on the heads of Karlsefin and
Gudrid, he felt a strange desire that he himself might die there and
then.

This state of mind, however, did not last long.  He soon dried his eyes
and braced himself up for another effort.  Snorro had gone to sleep the
instant he was laid on the ground.  As his luckless guide raised him he
opened his eyes slightly, murmured "O'af," and again went off to the
land of Nod.

Olaf now made a more steady and persevering effort to get out of the
wood, and he was so far successful that he came to ground that was more
open and broken--more like to that through which he had been accustomed
to travel with the men.  This encouraged him greatly, for, although he
did not recognise any part of it, he believed that he must now be at all
events not far distant from places that he knew.  Here he again looked
for the sun, but the sky had become so thickly overcast that he could
not make out its position.  Laying Snorro down, he climbed a tall tree,
but the prospect of interminable forest which he beheld from that point
of vantage did not afford him any clue to his locality.  He looked for
the ridge, but there were many ridges in view, any of which might have
been _his_ ridge, but none of which looked precisely like it.

Nevertheless, the upward bound which his spirits had taken when he came
to the more open country did not altogether subside.  He still wandered
on manfully, in the hope that he was gradually nearing home.

At last evening approached and the light began to fade away.  Olaf was
now convinced that he should have to spend the night in the forest.  He
therefore wisely resolved, while it was yet day, to search for a
suitable place whereon to encamp, instead of struggling on till he could
go no farther.  Fortunately the weather was warm at the time.

Ere long he found a small hollow in a sand-bank which was perfectly dry
and thickly overhung with shrubs.  Into this he crept and carefully laid
down his slumbering charge.  Then, going out, he collected a large
quantity of leaves.  With these he made a couch, on which he laid Snorro
and covered him well over.  Lying down beside him he drew as close to
the child as he could; placed his little head on his breast to keep it
warm; laid his own curly pate on a piece of turf, and almost instantly
fell into a profound slumber.

The sun was up and the birds were singing long before that slumber was
broken.  When at last Olaf and his little charge awoke, they yawned
several times and stretched themselves vigorously; opened their eyes
with difficulty, and began to look round with some half-formed notions
as to breakfast.  Olaf was first to observe that the roof above him was
a confused mass of earth and roots, instead of the customary plank
ceiling and cross-beams of home.

"Where am I?" he murmured lazily, yet with a look of sleepy curiosity.

He was evidently puzzled, and there is no saying how long he might have
lain in that condition had not a very small contented voice close beside
him replied:

"You's here, O'af; an' so's me."

Olaf raised himself quickly on his elbow, and, looking down, observed
Snorro's large eyes gazing from out a forest of leaves in quiet
satisfaction.

"Isn't it nice?" continued Snorro.

"Nice!" exclaimed Olaf in a voice of despair, when the whole truth in
regard to their lost condition was thus brought suddenly to his mind.
"Nice!  No, Snorrie, my little man, it isn't nice.  It's dread-ful!
It's awful!  It's--but come, I must not give way like a big baby as I
did yesterday.  We are lost, Snorrie, lost in the woods."

"Lost!  What's lost?" asked Snorro, sitting up and gazing into his
friend's face with an anxious expression--not, of course, in consequence
of being lost, which he did not understand, but because of Olaf's woeful
countenance.

"Oh! you can't understand it, Snorrie; and, after all, I'm a stupid
fellow to alarm you, for that can do no good.  Come, my mannie, you and
I are going to wander about in the woods to-day a great long way, and
try to get home; so, let me shake the leaves off you.  There now, we
shall start."

"Dat great fun!" cried Snorro, with sparkling eyes; "but, O'af, me want
mik."

"Milk--eh?  Well, to be sure, but--"

Olaf stopped abruptly, not only because he was greatly perplexed about
the matter of breakfast thus suggested to him, but because he chanced at
that moment to look towards the leafy entrance of the cave, and there
beheld a pair of large black eyes glaring at him.

To say that poor Olaf's heart gave a violent leap, and then apparently
ceased to beat altogether, while the blood fled from his visage, is not
to say anything disparaging to his courage.  Whether you be boy or man,
reader, we suspect that if you had, in similar circumstances, beheld
such a pair of eyes, you might have been troubled with somewhat similar
emotions.  Cowardice lies not in the susceptibility of the nervous
system to a shock, but in giving way to that shock so as to become unfit
for proper action or self-defence.  If Olaf had been a coward, he would,
forgetting all else, have attempted to fly, or, that being impossible,
would have shrunk into the innermost recesses of the cave.  Not being a
coward, his first impulse was to start to his feet and face the pair of
eyes; his second, to put his left arm round Snorro, and, still keeping
his white face steadily turned to the foe, to draw the child close to
his side.

This act, and the direction in which Olaf gazed, caused Snorro to glance
towards the cave's mouth, where he no sooner beheld the apparition, than
shutting his own eyes tight, and opening his mouth wide, he gave vent to
a series of yells that might have terrified the wildest beast in the
forest!

It did not, however, terrify the owner of the eyes, for the bushes were
instantly thrust aside, and next instant Snorro's mouth was violently
stopped by the black hand of a savage.

Seeing this, Olaf's blood returned to its ordinary channels with a rush.
He seized a thick branch that lay on the ground, and dealt the savage a
whack on the bridge of his nose, that changed it almost immediately from
a snub into a superb Roman!  For this he received a buffet on the ear
that raised a brilliant constellation in his brain, and laid him flat on
the ground.

Rising with difficulty, he was met with a shower of language from the
savage in a voice which partook equally of the tones of remonstrance and
abuse, but Olaf made no reply, chiefly because, not understanding what
was said, he could not.  Seeing this plainly indicated on his face, the
savage stopped speaking and gave him a box on the other ear, by way of
interpreting what he had said.  It was not quite so violent as the
first, and only staggered Olaf, besides lighting up a few faint stars.
Very soon little Snorro became silent, from the combined effects of
exhaustive squeezes and horror.

Having thus promptly brought matters to what he seemed to consider a
satisfactory condition, the savage wiping his Roman nose, which had bled
a little, threw Snorro over his shoulder and, seizing Olaf by the collar
of his coat, so as to thrust him on in advance, left the cavern with
rapid strides.

Words cannot describe the condition of poor Olaf's mind, as he was thus
forced violently along through the forest, he knew not whither.  Fearful
thoughts went flashing swiftly through his brain.  That the savage would
take him and Snorro to his home, wherever that might be, and kill,
roast, and eat him, was one of the mildest of these thoughts.  He
reflected that the hatred of the savage towards him must be very
intense, in consequence of his recent treatment of his nose, and that
the pain of that feature would infallibly keep his hatred for a long
time at the boiling-point; so that, in addition to the roasting and
eating referred to, he had every reason to expect in his own case the
addition of a little extra torture.  Then he thought of the fact, that
little Snorro would never more behold his mother, and the torture of
mind resulting from this reflection is only comparable to the roasting
of the body; but the worst thought of all was, that the dreadful pass to
which he and Snorro had come, was the consequence of his own wilful
_disobedience_!  The anguish of spirit that filled him, when he
reflected on this, was such that it caused him almost to forget the pain
caused by savage knuckles in his neck, and savage prospects in the
future.

Oh how he longed for a knife!  With what fearful gloating did he
contemplate the exact spot in the savage groin into which he would have
plunged it until the haft should have disappeared!  And this, not so
much from a feeling of revenge--though that was bad enough--as from an
intense desire to rescue Snorro ere it should be too late.

Several times he thought of a final dying effort at a hand-to-hand
struggle with his captor, but the power of the grip on the back of his
neck induced him to abandon that idea in despair.  Then he thought of a
sudden wrench and a desperate flight, but as that implied the leaving of
Snorro to his fate, he abandoned that idea too in disdain.  Suddenly,
however, he recurred to it, reflecting that, if he could only manage to
make his own escape, he might perhaps find his way back to the
settlement, give the alarm, and lead his friends to Snorro's rescue.
The power of this thought was so strong upon him, that he suddenly
stooped and gave his active body a twist, which he considered absolutely
awful for strength, but, much to his astonishment, did not find himself
free.  On the contrary, he received such a shake, accompanied by such a
kick, that from that moment he felt all hope to be gone.

Thus they proceeded through the woods, and out upon an open space
beyond, and over a variety of ridges, and down into a number of hollows,
and again through several forests not unlike the first, until poor Olaf
began to wonder whether they had not passed the boundaries of the world
altogether and got into another region beyond--until his legs, sturdy
though they were, began to give way beneath him--until the noon-day sun
shone perpendicularly down through the trees, and felt as if it were
burning up his brain.  Then they came to a rivulet, on the banks of
which were seen several tents of a conical form, made of skins, from the
tops of which smoke was issuing.

No sooner did the savage come in sight of these tents than he uttered a
low peculiar cry.  It was responded to, and immediately a band of
half-naked savages, like himself, advanced to meet him.

There was much gesticulation and loud excited talking, and a great deal
of pointing to the two captives, with looks expressive of surprise and
delight, but not a word could Olaf understand; and the gestures were not
definite in their expression.

When Snorro was placed sitting-wise on the ground--nearly half dead with
fatigue, alarm, and hunger--he crept towards Olaf, hid his face in his
breast, and sobbed.  Then did Olaf's conscience wake up afresh and stab
him with a degree of vigour that was absolutely awful--for Olaf's
conscience was a tender one; and it is a strange, almost paradoxical,
fact, that the tenderer a conscience is the more wrathfully does it stab
and lacerate the heart of its owner when he has done wrong!

There was, however, no uncertainty as to the disposition of the savages,
when, after a thorough inspection of the children, they took them to the
tents and set before them some boiled fish and roast venison.

Need we remark that, for the time, Olaf and Snorro forgot their sorrow?
It would scarcely be an exaggeration to say that Snorro was as ravenous
as any wolf in Vinland.  From the day of his birth that well-cared-for
child had, four times a day, received regular nutriment in the form of
milk, bread, eggs, and other substances, and never once had he been
permitted to experience the _pangs_ of hunger, though the _intimations_
thereof were familiar.  No wonder, then, that after an evening, a night,
and half a day of abstinence, he looked with a longing gaze on victuals,
and, when opportunity offered, devoured them desperately.  Olaf, though
trained a little in endurance, was scarcely less energetic, for his
appetite was keen, and his fast had been unusually prolonged.

When they had eaten as much as they could--to the delight of the
natives, excepting, of course, the man with the temporary Roman nose--
they were ordered by signals, which even Snorro understood, to remain
still and behave themselves.  Thereafter the natives struck their tents,
packed up their goods and chattels, embarked in sixteen large canoes,
and descended the rivulet a hundred yards or so to the spot where it
flowed into a large river.  Here they turned the canoes upstream, and
silently but swiftly paddled away into the interior of the land.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

ANXIOUS TIMES--A SEARCH ORGANISED AND VIGOROUSLY CARRIED OUT.

It is not easy to conceive the state of alarm that prevailed in the
settlement of the Norsemen when it came to be known that little Snorro
and Olaf were lost.  The terrible fact did not of course break on them
all at once.

For some hours after the two adventurers had left home, Dame Gudrid went
briskly about her household avocations, humming tunefully one of her
native Icelandic airs, and thinking, no doubt, of Snorro.  Astrid,
assisted by Bertha, went about the dairy operations, gossiping of small
matters in a pleasant way, and, among other things, providing Snorro's
allowance of milk.  Thora busied herself in the preparation of Snorro's
little bed; and Freydissa, whose stern nature was always softened by the
sight of the child, constructed, with elaborate care, a little coat for
Snorro's body.  Thus Snorro's interests were being tenderly cared for
until the gradual descent of the sun induced the remark, that "Olaf must
surely have taken a longer walk than usual that day."

"I must go and meet them," said Gudrid, becoming for the first time
uneasy.

"Let me go with you," said Bertha.

"Come, child," returned Gudrid.

In passing the spot where the little bear had been cut up and skinned,
they saw Hake standing with Biarne.

"Did you say that Olaf took the track of the woodcutters?" asked Gudrid.

"Ay, that was their road at starting," answered Biarne.  "Are they not
later than usual?"

"A little.  We go to meet them."

"Tell Olaf that I have kept the bear's claws for him," said Biarne.

The two women proceeded a considerable distance along the woodcutters'
track, chatting, as they went, on various subjects, but, not meeting the
children, they became alarmed and walked on in silence.

Suddenly Gudrid stopped.

"Bertha," said she, "let us not waste time.  If the dear children have
strayed a little out of the right road, it is of the utmost importance
to send men to search and shout for them before it begins to darken.
Come, we will return."

Being more alarmed than she liked to confess, even to herself, Gudrid at
once walked rapidly homewards, and, on approaching the huts, quickened
her pace to a run.

"Quick, Swend, Hake, Biarne!" she cried; "the children must have lost
their way--haste you to search for them before the sun goes down.  Shout
as ye go.  It will be ill to find them after dark, and if they have to
spend the night in the woods, I fear me they will--"

"Don't fear anything, Gudrid," said Biarne kindly.  "We will make all
haste, and doubtless shall find them rambling in the thickets near at
hand.--Go, Hake, find Karlsefin, and tell him that I will begin the
search at once with Swend, while he gets together a few men."

Cheered by Biarne's hearty manner, Gudrid was a little comforted, and
returned to the house to complete her preparation of Snorro's supper,
while Hake gave the alarm to Karlsefin, who, accompanied by Leif and a
body of men, at once went off to scour the woods in every direction.

Of course they searched in vain, for their attention was at first
directed to the woods near home, in which it was naturally enough
supposed that Olaf might have lost his way in returning.  Not finding
them there, Karlsefin became thoroughly alive to the extreme urgency of
the case, and the necessity for a thorough and extended plan of search.

"Come hither, Hake," said he.  "This may be a longer business than we
thought for.  Run back to the huts, call out all the men except the
home-guards.  Let them come prepared for a night in the woods, each man
with a torch, and one meal in his pouch at least--"

"Besides portions for the twenty men already out," suggested Hake.

"Right, right, lad, and tell them to meet me at the Pine Ridge.--Away!
If ever thy legs rivalled the wind, let them do so now."

Hake sprang off at a pace which appeared satisfactory even to the
anxious father.

In half an hour Karlsefin was joined at the Pine Ridge by all the
available strength of the colony, and there he organised and despatched
parties in all directions, appointing the localities they were to
traverse, the limits of their search, and the time and place for the
next rendezvous.  This last was to be on the identical ridge whence poor
Olaf had taken his departure into the unknown land.  Karlsefin knew well
that it was his favourite haunt, and intended to search carefully up to
it, never dreaming that the boy would go beyond it after the strict
injunctions he had received not to do so, and the promises he had made.

"I'm not so sure as you seem to be that Olaf has not gone beyond the
ridge," observed Leif to Karlsefin, after the men had left them.

"Why not?" asked the latter.  "He is a most trustworthy boy."

"I know it--who should know it so well as his own father?" returned
Leif; "but he is very young.  I have known him give way to temptation
once or twice before now.  He may have done it again."

"I trust not," said Karlsefin; "but come, let us make direct for the
ridge, while the others continue the search; we can soon ascertain
whether he has wandered beyond it.  I know his favourite tree.
Doubtless his footsteps will guide us."

Already it had begun to grow dark, so that when they reached the ridge
it was necessary to kindle the torches before anything could be
ascertained.

"Here are the footsteps," cried Karlsefin, after a brief search.

Leif, who was searching in another direction, hurried towards his
friend, torch in hand.

"See, there is Olaf's footprint on that soft ground," said Karlsefin,
moving slowly along, with the torch held low, "but there is no sign of
Snorro's little feet.  Olaf always carried him--yet--ah! here they are
on this patch of sand, look.  They had halted here--probably to rest;
perhaps to change Snorro's position.  I've lost them again--no! here
they are, but only Olaf's.  He must have lifted the child again, no
doubt."

"Look here," cried Leif, who had again strayed a little from his friend.
"Are not these footsteps descending the ridge?"

Karlsefin hastily examined them.

"They are," he cried, "and then they go down towards the wood--ay,
_into_ it.  Without doubt Olaf has broken his promise; but let us make
sure."

A careful investigation convinced both parents that the children had
entered that part of the forest, and that therefore all search in any
other direction was useless.  Karlsefin immediately re-ascended the
ridge, and, putting both hands to his mouth, gave the peculiar halloo
which had been agreed upon as the signal that some of the searchers had
either found the children or fallen upon their tracks.

"You'll have to give them another shout," said Leif.

Karlsefin did so, and immediately after a faint and very distant halloo
came back in reply.

"That's Biarne," observed Karlsefin, as they stood listening intently.
"Hist! there is another."

A third and fourth halloo followed quickly, showing that the signal had
been heard by all; and in a very short time the searchers came hurrying
to the rendezvous, one after another.

"Have you found them?" was of course the first eager question of each,
followed by a falling of the countenance when the reply "No" was given.
But there was a rising of hope again when it was pointed out that they
must certainly be in some part of the tract of dense woodland just in
front of them.  There were some there, however--and these were the most
experienced woodsmen--who shook their heads mentally when they gazed at
the vast wilderness, which, in the deepening gloom, looked intensely
black, and the depths of which they knew must be as dark as Erebus at
that hour.  Still, no one expressed desponding feelings, but each spoke
cheerfully and agreed at once to the proposed arrangement of continuing
the search all night by torchlight.

When the plan of search had been arranged, and another rendezvous fixed,
the various parties went out and searched the live-long night in every
copse and dell, in every bush and brake, and on every ridge and knoll
that seemed the least likely to have been selected by the lost little
ones as a place of shelter.  But the forest was wide.  A party of ten
times their number would have found it absolutely impossible to avoid
passing many a dell and copse and height and hollow unawares.  Thus it
came to pass that although they were once or twice pretty near the cave
where the children were sleeping, they did not find it.  Moreover, the
ground in places was very hard, so that, although they more than once
discovered faint tracks, they invariably lost them again in a few
minutes.  They shouted lustily, too, as they went along, but to two such
sleepers as Olaf and Snorro in their exhausted condition, their wildest
shouts were but as the whisperings of a sick mosquito.

Gradually the searchers wandered farther and farther away from the spot,
until they were out of sight and hearing.

We say sight and hearing, because, though the children were capable of
neither at that time, there was in that wood an individual who was
particularly sharp in regard to both.  This was a scout of a party of
natives who chanced to be travelling in that neighbourhood at the time.
The man--who had a reddish-brown body partially clad in a deer-skin,
glittering black eyes, and very stiff wiry black hair, besides
uncommonly strong and long white teeth, in excellent order--chanced to
have taken up his quarters for the night under a tree on the top of a
knoll.  When, in the course of his slumbers, he became aware of the fact
that a body of men were going about the woods with flaring torches and
shouting like maniacs, he awoke, _not_ with a start, or any such
ridiculous exclamation as "Ho!"  "Ha!" or "Hist!" but with the mild
operation of opening his saucer-like eyes until they were at their
widest.  No evil resulting from this cautious course of action, he
ventured to raise his head an inch off the ground--which was his rather
extensive pillow--then another inch and another, until he found himself
resting on his elbow and craning his neck over a low bush.  Being almost
black, and quite noiseless, he might have been mistaken for a
slowly-moving shadow.

Gradually he gained his knees, then his feet, and then, peering into
space, he observed Biarne and Krake, with several others, ascending the
knoll.

For the shadow to sink again to its knees, slope to its elbows, recline
on its face, and glide into the heart of a thick bush and disappear, did
not seem at all difficult or unnatural.  At any rate that is what it
did, and there it remained observing all that passed.

"Ho! hallo!  Olaf!  Snorro! hi-i-i!" shouted Biarne on reaching the
summit of the knoll.

"Hooroo!" yelled Krake, in a tone that must have induced the shadow to
take him for a half-brother.

"Nothing here," said Biarne, holding up the torch and peering round in
all directions.

"Nothing whatever," responded Krake.

He little knew at the time that the shadow was displaying his teeth, and
loosening in its sheath a long knife or dagger made of bone, which, from
the spot where he lay, he could have launched with unerring certainty
into the heart of any of those who stood before him.  It is well for man
that he sometimes does not know what _might_ be!

After a brief inspection of the knoll, and another shout or two, they
descended again into the brake and pushed on.  The shadow rose and
followed until he reached a height whence he could see that the
torch-bearers had wandered far away to the westward.  As the friends and
relatives for whom he acted the part of scout were encamped away to the
eastward, he returned to his tree and continued his nap till daybreak,
when he arose and shook himself, yawned and scratched his head.
Evidently he pondered the occurrences of the night, and felt convinced
that if so many strange men went about looking for something with so
much care and anxiety, it must undoubtedly, be something that was worth
looking for.  Acting on this idea he began to look.

Now, it must be well-known to most people that savages are rather smart
fellows at making observations on things in general and drawing
conclusions therefrom.  The shouts led him to believe that lost human
beings were being sought for.  Daylight enabled him to see little feet
which darkness had concealed from the Norsemen, whence he concluded that
children were being sought for.  Following out his clue, with that
singular power of following a trail for which savages are noted, he came
to the cave, and peered through the bushes with his great eyes, pounced
upon the sleepers, and had his pug nose converted into a Roman--all as
related in the last chapter.

Sometime after sunrise the various searching parties assembled at the
place of rendezvous--fagged, dispirited, and hungry.

"Come," said Karlsefin, who would not permit his feelings to influence
his conduct, "we must not allow ourselves to despond at little more than
the beginning of our search.  We will breakfast here, lads, and then
return to the ridge where we first saw their footsteps.  Daylight will
enable us to track them more easily.  Thank God the weather is warm, and
I daresay if they kept well under cover of the trees, the dear children
may have got no harm from exposure.  They have not been fasting _very_
long, so--let us to work."

Leif and Biarne both fell in with Karlsefin's humour, and cheered the
spirits of the men by their tone and example, so that when the hurried
meal was finished they felt much refreshed, and ready to begin the work
of another day.

It was past noon before they returned to the ridge and began the renewed
search.  Daylight now enabled them to trace the little footsteps with
more certainty, and towards the afternoon they came to the cave where
the children had slept.

"Here have they spent the night," said Leif, with breathless interest,
as he and Karlsefin examined every corner of the place.

"But they are gone," returned the other, "and it behoves us to waste no
time.  Go, Biarne, let the men spread out--stay!--Is not this the foot
of a man who wears a shoe somewhat different from ours?"

"'Tis a savage," said Biarne, in a tone of great anxiety.

Karlsefin made no reply, and the party being now concentrated, they
followed eagerly on, finding the prints of the feet quite plain in many
places.

"Unquestionably they have been captured by a savage," said Leif.

"Ay, and he must have taken Snorro on his shoulder, and made poor Olaf
walk alongside," observed Biarne.

Following the trail with the perseverance and certainty of blood-hounds,
they at last came to the deserted encampment on the banks of the
rivulet.  That it had been forsaken only a short time before was
apparent from the circumstance of the embers of the fires still smoking.
They examined the place closely and found the little foot-marks of the
children, which were quite distinguishable from those of the native
children by the difference in the form of the shoes.  Soon they came to
marks on the bank of the stream which indicated unmistakeably that
canoes had been launched there.  And now, for the first time, the
countenances of Leif and Karlsefin fell.

"You think there is no hope?" asked the latter.

"I won't say that," replied Leif; "but we know not what course they have
taken, and we cannot follow them on foot."

"True," observed Karlsefin, in bitter despondency.

"The case is not so bad," observed Heika, stepping forward at this
point.  "You know we have a number of canoes captured from the savages;
some of us have become somewhat expert in the management of these.  Let
a few of us go back and fetch them hither on our shoulders, with
provisions for a long journey, and we shall soon be in a position to
give chase.  They cannot have gone far yet, and we shall be sure to
overtake them, for what we lack in experience shall be more than made up
by the strength of our arms and wills."

"Thou art a good counsellor, Heika," said Karlsefin, with a sad smile;
"I will follow that advice.  Go thou and Hake back to the huts as fast
as may be, and order the home-guard to make all needful preparation.
Some of us will follow in thy steps more leisurely, and others will
remain here to rest until you return with the canoes."

Thus directed the brothers turned their powers of speed to good account,
so that, when some of their comrades returned foot-sore and jaded for
want of rest, they not only found that everything was ready for a start,
but that a good meal had been prepared for them.

While these remained in the settlement to rest and protect it, the
home-guards were ordered to get ready for immediate service.  Before
night had closed in, the brothers, with torches in their hands, headed a
party of fresh men carrying three canoes and provisions on their
shoulders.  They reached the encampment again in the early morning, and
by daybreak all was ready for a start.  Karlsefin, Thorward, and Heika
acted as steersmen; Krake, Tyrker, and Hake filled the important posts
of bowmen.  Besides these there were six men in each canoe, so that the
entire party numbered twenty-four strong men, fully armed with bow and
arrow, sword and shield, and provisioned for a lengthened voyage.

"Farewell, friends," said Karlsefin to those who stood on the banks of
the little stream.  "It may be that we shall never return from this
enterprise.  You may rest assured that we will either rescue the
children or perish in the attempt.  Leif and Biarne have agreed to
remain in charge of the settlement.  They are good men and true, and
well able to guide and advise you.  Tell Gudrid that my last thoughts
shall be of her--if I do not return.  But I do not anticipate failure,
for the God of the Christians is with us.--Farewell."

"Farewell," responded the Norsemen on the bank, waving their hands as
the canoes shot out into the stream.

In a few minutes they reached the great river, and, turning upstream,
were soon lost to view in the depths of the wide wilderness.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

NEW EXPERIENCES--DIFFICULTIES ENCOUNTERED AND OVERCOME--THORWARD AND
TYRKER MAKE A JOINT EFFORT, WITH HUMBLING RESULTS.

It may be as well to remark here, that the Norsemen were not altogether
ignorant of the course of the great river on which they had now
embarked.  During their sojourn in those regions they had, as we have
said, sent out many exploring parties, and were pretty well acquainted
with the nature of the country within fifty miles or so in all
directions.  These expeditions, however, had been conducted chiefly on
land; only one of them by water.

That one consisted of a solitary canoe, manned by four men, of whom
Heika was steersman, while Hake managed the bow-paddle, these having
proved themselves of all the party the most apt to learn the use of the
paddle and management of the canoe.  During the fight with the savages,
recorded in a previous chapter, the brothers had observed that the man
who sat in the bow was of quite as much importance in regard to steering
as he who sat in the stern; and when they afterwards ascended the river,
and found it necessary to shoot hither and thither amongst the surges,
cross-currents, and eddies of a rapid, they then discovered that simple
steering at one end of their frail bark would not suffice, but that it
was necessary to steer, as it were, at both ends.  Sometimes, in order
to avoid a stone, or a dangerous whirlpool, or a violent shoot, it
became necessary to turn the canoe almost on its centre, as on a pivot,
or at least within its own length; and in order to accomplish this, the
steersman had to dip his paddle as far out to one side as possible, to
draw the stern in that direction, while the bowman did the same on the
opposite side, and drew the bow the other way--thus causing the light
craft to spin round almost instantly.  The two guiding men thus acted in
unison, and it was only by thoroughly understanding each other, in all
conceivable situations, that good and safe steering could be achieved.

The canoes which had been captured from the savages were frail barks in
the most literal sense of these words.  They were made of the bark of
the birch-tree, a substance which, though tough, was very easily split
insomuch that a single touch upon a stone was sufficient to cause a bad
leak.  Hence the utmost care was required in their navigation.  But
although thus easily damaged they were also easily repaired, the
materials for reparation--or even, if necessary, reconstruction--being
always at hand in the forest.

Now although Heika and his brother were, as we have said, remarkably
expert, it does not follow that those were equally so who managed the
other two canoes of the expedition.  On the contrary, their experience
in canoeing had hitherto been slight.  Karlsefin and his bowman Krake
were indeed tolerably expert, having practised a good deal with the
Scottish brothers, but Thorward turned out to be an uncommonly bad
canoe-man; nevertheless, with the self-confidence natural to a good
seaman, and one who was expert with the oar, he scouted the idea that
anything connected with fresh-water voyaging could prove difficult to
_him_, and resolutely claimed and took his position as one of the
steersmen of the expedition.  His bowman, Tyrker, as ill luck would have
it, turned out to be the worst man of them all in rough water, although
he had shown himself sufficiently good on the smooth lake to induce the
belief that he might do well enough.

But their various powers in this respect were not at first put to the
test, because for a very long way the river was uninterrupted by rapids,
and progress was therefore comparatively easy.  The scenery through
which they passed was rich and varied in the extreme.  At one part the
river ran between high banks, which were covered to the water's edge
with trees and bushes of different kinds, many of them being exceedingly
brilliant in colour.  At another part the banks were lower, with level
spaces like lawns, and here and there little openings where rivulets
joined the river, their beds affording far-reaching glimpses of
woodland, in which deer might occasionally be seen gambolling.
Elsewhere the river widened occasionally into something like a lake,
with wooded islets on its calm surface, while everywhere the water,
earth, and air teemed with animal life--fish, flesh, fowl, and insect.
It was such a sight of God's beautiful earth as may still be witnessed
by those who, leaving the civilised world behind, plunge into the vast
wildernesses that exist to this day in North America.

Beautiful though it was, however, the Norsemen had small leisure and not
much capacity to admire it, being pre-occupied and oppressed by anxiety
as to the fate of the children.  Still, in spite of this, a burst of
admiration would escape them ever and anon as they passed rapidly along.

The first night they came to the spot where the natives had encamped the
night before, and all hands were very sanguine of overtaking them
quickly.  They went about the encampment examining everything, stirring
up the embers of the fires, which were still hot, and searching for
little footprints.

Hake's unerring bow had supplied the party with fresh venison and some
wild-geese.  While they sat over the fires that night roasting steaks
and enjoying marrow-bones, they discussed their prospects.

"They have got but a short start of us," said Karlsefin, looking
thoughtfully into the fire, before which he reclined on a couch of
pine-branches, "and if we push on with vigour, giving ourselves only
just sufficient repose to keep up our strength, we shall be sure to
overtake them in a day or two."

"It may be so," said Thorward, with a doubtful shake of the head; "but
you know, brother, that a stern chase is usually a long one."

Thorward was one of those unfortunate men who get the credit of desiring
to throw wet blankets and cold water upon everything, whereas, poor man,
his only fault was a tendency to view things critically, so as to avoid
the evil consequences of acting on the impulse of an over-sanguine
temperament.  Thorward was a safe adviser, but was not a pleasant one,
to those who regard all objection as opposition, and who don't like to
look difficulties full in the face.  However, there is no question that
it would have been better for him, sometimes, if he had been gifted with
the power of holding his tongue!

His friend Karlsefin, however, fully appreciated and understood him.

"True," said he, with a quiet smile, "as you say, a stern chase is a
long one; nevertheless we are not _far_ astern, and that is what I count
on for shortening the chase."

"That is a just remark," said Thorward gravely, applying a marrow-bone
to his lips, and drinking the semi-liquid fat therefrom as if from a
cup; "but I think you might make it (this is most excellent marrow!) a
still shorter chase if you would take my advice.--Ho!  Krake, hand me
another marrow-bone.  It seems to me that Vinland deer have a peculiar
sweetness, which is not so obvious in those of Norway, though perchance
it is hunger which gives the relish; and yet can I truly say that I have
been hungered in Norway.  However, I care not to investigate reasons too
closely while I am engaged in the actual practice of consumption."

Here he put another marrow-bone to his lips, and sucked out the contents
with infinite gusto.

"And what may your advice be?" asked his friend, laughing.

"I'll wager that Hake could tell you if his mouth were not too full,"
replied Thorward, with a smile.

"Say, thou thrall, before refilling that capacious cavern, what had best
be done in order to increase our speed?"

Hake checked a piece of wild-fowl on its passage to his mouth, and,
after a moment's consideration, replied that in his opinion lightening
the load of the canoe was the best thing to be done.

"And say," continued Thorward, beginning to [eat] a large drumstick,
"how may _that_ be done?"

"By leaving our provisions behind," answered Hake.

"Ha! did not I say that he could tell you?" growled Thorward between his
teeth, which were at that moment conflicting with the sinewy part of the
drumstick.

"There is something in that," remarked Karlsefin.

"_Something_ in it!" exclaimed Thorward, resting for a moment from his
labours in order to wash all down with a cataract of water; "why, there
is everything in it.  Who ever heard of a man running a race with a full
stomach--much less winning it?  If we would win we must voyage light;
besides, what need is there to carry salt salmon and dried flesh with us
when the woods are swarming with such as these, and when we have a man
in our company who can bring down a magpie on the wing?"

"And that's true, if anything ever was," observed Krake, who had been
too busy up to that point to do more than listen.

Hake nodded his approval of the sentiment, and Karlsefin said that he
quite agreed with it, and would act upon the advice next day.

"Just take a _very_ little salmon," suggested Tyrker, with a sigh, "for
fear this good fortune should perhaps come suddenly to an end."

There was a general laugh at Tyrker's caution, and Karlsefin said he was
at liberty to fill his own pockets with salmon for his own use, if he
chose.

"Sure it would be much better," cried Krake, "to eat a week's allowance
all at once, and so save time and trouble."

"If I had your stomach, Krake, I might try that," retorted Tyrker, "but
mine is not big enough."

"Well, now," returned Krake, "if you only continue to over-eat for a
week or two, as you're doing just now, you'll find it big enough--and
more!"

"We must sleep to-night, and not talk," said Karlsefin gravely, for he
saw that the dispute was likely to wax hot.  "Come, get you all to rest.
I will call you two hours hence."

Every man of the expedition was sound asleep in a few minutes after
that, with the exception of their leader, who was to keep the first
half-hour watch--Thorward, Heika, and Hake being appointed to relieve
him and each other in succession.

The moon was shining brightly when the two hours had elapsed.  This was
very fortunate, because they expected to arrive at the rapids ere long,
and would require light to ascend them.  Owing to recent heavy rains,
however, the current was so strong that they did not reach the rapids
till sunrise.  Before starting, they had buried all their provisions in
such a way that they might be dug up and used, if necessary, on their
return.

"'Tis as well that we have daylight here," observed Karlsefin, as he,
Thorward, and Hake stood on a rocky part of the bank just below the
rapids, and surveyed the place before making the attempt.

It might have been observed that Thorward's face expressed some unusual
symptoms of feeling, as he looked up the river, and saw there nothing
but a turbulent mass of heaving surges dashing themselves wildly against
sharp forbidding rocks, which at one moment were grinning like black
teeth amidst the white foam, and the next were overwhelmed by the
swelling billows.

"You don't mean to say we have to go up that maelstrom?" he said,
pointing to the river, and looking at Hake.

"I would there were any other road," answered Hake, smiling, "but truly
I know of none.  The canoes are light, and might be carried by land to
the still water above the rapids, but, as you see, the banks here are
sheer up and down without foothold for a crow, and if we try to go round
by the woods on either side, we shall have a march of ten miles through
such a country that the canoes will be torn to pieces before the journey
is completed."

"Have you and Heika ever ascended that mad stream?" cried Thorward.

"Ay--twice."

"Without overturning?"

"Yes--without overturning."

Again Thorward bestowed on the river a long silent gaze, and his
countenance wore an expression of blank surprise, which was so amusing
that Karlsefin forgot for a moment the anxiety that oppressed him, and
burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"Ye have little to laugh at," said Thorward gravely.  "It is all very
well to talk of seamanship--and, truly, if you will give me a good boat
with a stout pair of oars, and the roughest sea you ever saw, I will
show you what I can do--but who ever heard of a man going afloat in an
egg-shell on a monstrous kettle of boiling water?"

"Why, Hake says he has done it," said Karlsefin.

"When I see him do it I will believe it," replied Thorward doggedly.

"You will not, I suppose, object to follow, if I lead the way?" asked
Hake.

"Go to, thrall!  Dost think I am afraid?" said Thorward sternly; and
then, as if he thought such talk trifling, turned on his heel with a
light laugh, and was about to descend the bank of the river to the spot
where the men stood in a group near the canoes, when Karlsefin called
him back.

"Softly, not so fast, Thorward.  Although no doubt we are valiant
sailors--and woe betide the infatuated man who shall venture to deny
it!--yet must we put our pride in our pouches for once, and accept
instruction from Hake.  After all, it is said that wise men may learn
something from babes--if so, why may not sea-kings learn from thralls?--
unless, indeed, we be not up to the mark of wise men."

"I am all attention," said Thorward.

"This, then," said Hake, pointing to a large rock in the middle of the
stream, "is the course you must pursue, if ye would reach the upper end
of the rapid in a dry skin.  See you yonder rock--the largest--where the
foam breaks most fiercely, as if in wrath because it cannot overleap it?
Well, that is our first resting-place.  If you follow my finger
closely, you will see, near the foot of the rapid, two smaller rocks,
one below the other; they only show now and then as the surges rise and
fall, but each has an eddy, or a tail of smooth water below it.  Do you
see them?"

"I see, I see," cried Thorward, becoming interested in spite of himself;
"but, truly, if thou callest that part of the river smooth and a `tail,'
I hope I may never fall into the clutches of the smooth animal to which
that tail belongs."

"It is smooth compared with the rest," continued Hake, "and has a
back-draught which will enable us to rest there a moment.  You will
observe that the stone above has also a tail, the end of which comes
quite down to the head of the tail below.  Well, then, you must make
such a bold dash at the rapid that you shall reach the lower eddy.  That
gained, the men will rest a space and breathe, but not cease paddling
altogether, else will you be carried down again.  Then make a dash into
the stream and paddle might and main till you reach the eddy above.  You
will thus have advanced about thirty yards, and be in a position to make
a dash for the long eddy that extends from the big rock."

"That is all very plain," observed Thorward; "but does it not seem to
you, Hake, that the best way to explain matters would be to go and
ascend while we look on and learn a lesson through our eyes?"

"I am ready," was the youth's brief reply; for he was a little hurt by
the seaman's tone and manner.

"Thorward is right, Hake," said Karlsefin.  "Go, take your own canoe up.
We will watch you from this spot, and follow if all goes well."

The young Scot at once sprang down the bank, and in a few minutes his
canoe with its six men, and Heika steering, shot out from the bank
towards the rapid.

All tendency to jest forsook Thorward as he stood beside his friend on
the cliff with compressed lips and frowning brow, gazing upon the
cork-like vessel which danced upon the troubled waters.  In a minute it
was at the foot of the broken water.  Then Heika's voice rose above the
roar of the stream, as he gave a shout and urged on his men.  The canoe
sprang into the boiling flood.  It appeared to remain stationary, while
the men struggled might and main.

"'Tis too strong for them!" cried Thorward, becoming excited.

"No; they advance!" said Karlsefin in a deep, earnest tone.

This was true, but their progress was very small.  Gradually they
overcame the power of the stream and shot into the first eddy, amid the
cheers of their comrades on shore.  Here they waited only a moment or
two, and then made a dash for the second eddy.  There was a shout of
disappointment from the men, because they swept down so fast that it
seemed as if all the distance gained had been lost; but suddenly the
canoe was caught by the extreme tail of the eddy, the downward motion of
its bow was stopped, it was turned straight upstream, and they paddled
easily towards the second rock.  Another brief pause was made here, and
then a dash was made for the eddy below the large rock.  This was more
easily gained, but the turbulence of the water was so great that there
was much more danger in crossing from one eddy to the other than there
had been before.

Under the large rock they rested for a few minutes, and then, dashing
out into the rapid, renewed the struggle.  Thus, yard by yard, taking
advantage of every available rock and eddy, they surmounted the
difficulty and landed at the head of the rapids, where they waved their
caps to their friends below.

"It's Krake that wishes he was there!" observed that worthy, wiping the
perspiration from his brow and drawing a long deep breath; for the mere
sight of the struggle had excited him almost as much as if he had
engaged in it.

"'Tis Krake that will soon be there if all goes well," remarked
Karlsefin, with a laugh, as he came forward and ordered his canoe to be
pushed off.  "I will be ready to follow, but you had better go first,
Thorward.  If anything befalls you I am here to aid."

"Well, come along, lads," cried Thorward.  "Get into the bow, Tyrker,
and see that you do your duty like a man.  Much depends on you--more's
the pity!"  He added the last words in a low voice, for Thorward, being
a very self-reliant man, would like to have performed all the duties
himself, had that been possible.

"Shove off!"

They shot from the bank and made for the rapid gallantly.  Thorward's
shout quite eclipsed that of Heika on taking the rapid.  Truly, if
strength of lung could have done it, he might have taken his canoe up
single-handed, for he roared like a bull of Bashan when Tyrker missed a
stroke of his paddle, thereby letting the bow sweep round so that the
canoe was carried back to the point whence it had started.

Tremendous was the roar uttered by Thorward when they faced the rapid
the second time, and fierce was the struggle of the men when in it, and
anxious was Tyrker to redeem his error--so anxious, in fact, that he
missed another stroke and well-nigh fell overboard!

It is said that "Fortune favours the brave."  There was no lack of
bravery in Tyrker--only lack of experience and coolness--and Fortune
favoured him on this occasion.  If he had _not_ missed a stroke and
fallen forward, his miscalculation of aqueous forces would have sent the
canoe past the mark in the opposite direction from the last time; but
the missed stroke was the best stroke of all, for it allowed the canoe
to shoot into the first eddy, and converted a terrific roar of wrath
from Thorward into a hearty cheer.

Resting a few moments, as Heika and his crew had done, they then
addressed themselves to the second part of the rapid.  Here Thorward
steered so well that the canoe took the stream at the proper angle; but
Tyrker, never having perceived what the right angle was, and strongly
impressed with the belief that the bow was pointing too much up the
river, made a sudden stroke on the wrong side!  The canoe instantly flew
not only to the tail of the eddy, but right across it into the wild
surges beyond, where it was all but upset, first to one side then to the
other, after which it spun round like a teetotum, and was carried with
fearful violence towards one of those rocky ridges which we have
described as being alternately covered and uncovered by the foam.  On
the crest of a bulging cascade they were fortunately borne right over
this ridge, which next moment showed its black teeth, as if grinning at
the dire mischief it might have done if it had only chosen to bite!
Next instant the canoe overturned, and left the men to flounder to land,
while it went careering down towards the gravelly shallows below.

Now Karlsefin had anticipated this, and was prepared for it.  In the
first place, he had caused the arms, etcetera, to be removed from
Thorward's canoe before it set out, saying that he would carry them up
in his canoe, so that his friend's might go light.  Then, having his
vessel ready and manned, he at once pushed out and intercepted the other
canoe before it reached the gravelly shallows, where it would have been
much damaged, if not dashed to pieces.

"That is bad luck," observed Thorward, somewhat sulkily, as, after
swimming ashore, he wrung the water from his garments.

"Not worse than might have been expected on a first trial," said
Karlsefin, laughing.  "Besides, that rascal Tyrker deceived me.  Had I
known he was so bad, you should have had Krake."

Poor Tyrker, very much crestfallen, kept carefully away from the party,
and did not hear that remark.

"Now it is my turn," continued Karlsefin.  "If we get up safely I will
send Heika down to take the bow of your canoe."

Karlsefin, as we said, was somewhat more expert than most of the men in
managing canoes, and Krake, besides having had more experience than many
of his fellows, had once before visited and ascended this rapid.  They
therefore made the ascent almost as well as the Scots had done.

Arrived at the upper end, Hake and Heika were ordered to remove
everything out of their canoe, and, with a full crew, to run down to the
aid of their friends.  Karlsefin himself went with them as one of the
crew, so that he might take the steering paddle when Heika should resign
it in order to act as Thorward's bowman.  Thus manned, the second
attempt was crowned with success, and, not long afterwards the three
canoes swept into a smooth reach of the river above the rapids, and
proceeded on their way.

But a great deal of time had been lost in this way, and Karlsefin felt
that it must be made up for by renewed diligence and protracted labour.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

REMARKABLE EXPERIENCES OF OLAF AND SNORRO--THE FORMER SUFFERS THE PANGS
OF REMORSE.

A camp of savages is, in some respects, exceedingly unattractive.
Indeed, it may truly be said to be in many respects repulsive.  There
are usually odours in such a camp which are repellent to the nose,
dishes that are disgusting to the taste, sights that are disagreeable to
the eyes, sounds that are abhorrent to the ear, and habits that are
uncongenial to the feelings.

Nevertheless there is much in such a camp that is deeply interesting.
The student of nature, the mental and moral philosopher, the
anthropologist, and the philanthropist--ay, even the cynic--might each
find much food here suited to his particular tastes and powers of mental
digestion.  At present, however, we have chiefly to do, good reader,
with that which interests you and me--namely, Olaf and Snorro, who were
prisoners of war in a savage camp.

The camp referred to was not the small affair already described as
having taken sudden flight from the rivulet which flowed into the great
river, where we have left the Norsemen doing battle with the waters.  It
was the great parent, of which that little camp was but an offshoot--the
head-quarters of a whole tribe of savages, who dwelt in it to the extent
of many hundreds.  Yet it was not a fixed camp.  It was a moving village
of leathern tents, or wigwams, pitched without any regard to order, on
the margin of what appeared to be a small lake, but which was in reality
a mere widening of the great river.

Hither Olaf and Snorro were brought by their captors, and immediately
conveyed to the tent of the chief, who was an aged and white-haired
though vigorous and strong-boned savage.  Whitepow, for such, curiously
enough, was his name, opened his eyes uncommonly wide when he saw the
children of the Norsemen, and, sitting up on the couch of furs on which
he had been reclining, gazed at them for about five minutes without
speaking, almost without winking.

Snorro did not appear to relish this, for he crept close to Olaf's side
and tried to turn away his eyes, but found this to be impossible, for a
sort of fascination kept them riveted on the countenance of the aged
Whitepow.

At last the savage chief opened his mouth as well as his eyes, and spoke
to the savage who had brought the children into the royal presence.
That worthy rapidly related the circumstances of the capture--at least
so it is to be presumed, but no one can now tell for certain--after
which Whitepow turned to Olaf and said something which as near as
possible resembled the words:

"Whardeekum froyoul ittlsiner?"

"I don't understand you," answered Olaf humbly.  Whitepow repeated the
words, and Olaf reiterated his assurance that he could make nothing of
them whatever.

This concluded the interview at that time, and Whitepow gave an order
which resulted in the children being conveyed to a tent where there were
several women, old and young, to whom they were handed over with a
message which we cannot record, not knowing what it was.

The reception which they met with from these native women was
flattering, if not in all respects pleasant.  First, they were placed in
the centre of the group and gazed at in wondering admiration.  Then they
were seized and kissed and hugged all round the circle.  Then they were
examined carefully all over, and under as well, their white skins being
as much a matter of interest as their clothing.  After that their fair
hair was smoothed and parted by not untender hands, and they were hugged
again--just as two new dolls might have been by a group of sisters on
first making their acquaintance.

Of course there was an immense deal of talking and chatting and
commenting, also no small amount of giggling, and once or twice one of
the women addressed Olaf; but Olaf shook his head and stuck to his first
assurance that their words were incomprehensible.

All this was borne by the captives with wonderful equanimity, because
neither was old enough to be much affected by dirtiness of person or
garments, and both were thoroughly able to appreciate kindness.

Finally, a stout and not bad-looking young woman took possession of
Snorro, and robbed her own offspring in order to bestow on him a very
acceptable drink of milk.  This last act quite reconciled him to his
fate, and Olaf, though not so easily won over, was somewhat mollified by
a kindly old woman, who placed him at her side, and set before him a
dish of dried berries.

When this feeding process was concluded, and the first blush of novelty
began to wear off, the children were turned out in front of the women's
tent, where, seated together on a bit of wood, they underwent the
inspection of the whole tribe, old and young, male and female.  This was
a much more trying ordeal, but in about an hour an order was issued
which resulted in the dispersion of every one save a few boys, who were
either privileged individuals or rebellious subjects, for they not only
came back to gaze at the children, but ventured at length to carry them
off to play near the banks of the river.

Olaf was so far reconciled to his new friends that he did not object to
witness and take an interest in their games, though he resolutely
refused to join, fearing that if he did so his little charge might be
spirited away while he was not watching.

At last one of the boys, whose head was very small and round, and whose
name appeared to be Powlet, came forward with a little red paint, and
offered to apply it to Olaf's face.  All the boys' faces were, we may
observe, more or less painted with black, red, white, and blue colours,
and their heads were decorated more or less with feathers.  Indeed,
these feathers constituted, with the exception of a trifling shred of
leather about the loins, and some feathers in their hair, all the
clothing they wore at that season of the year.

Olaf refused to be painted, whereupon Powlet rubbed the red paint on the
point of his own nose, an operation which so tickled the fancy of
Snorro, that he burst into a hearty fit of laughter, to Olaf's ineffable
joy.

"That's right, Snorrie," he cried, setting the child on his knee, "laugh
again; do it heartily; it will cheer us both."

"It am so fun-ny, O'af," said Snorro, repeating the laugh as he looked
at the native boy.

Observing the success of his efforts to please, Powlet put a spot of the
red paint under each eye, and Snorro laughed so much at this that all
the other boys came crowding round to ascertain and enjoy the joke.

Powlet now offered to anoint Snorro in the same way, but Snorro
objected, and, pointing to his protector said, with a look of glee--

"Do O'af."

Nothing else would have induced Olaf to submit, but Snorro's wish was
law to him.  He therefore consented at once, and Powlet, dipping his
finger in the red paint which he carried in the hollow of his hand, drew
a thick stroke from Olaf's forehead down to the point of his nose, where
he made it terminate in a large, round spot.

There was a tremendous shout at this, not only from Snorro, but from all
the other boys; and Olaf was so pleased to see Snorro happy, that he
turned to Powlet, pointed to his face, and nodded his head by way of
inviting further decoration.

Powlet was an intelligent boy.  He understood him at once, and went on
with his work, a boy coming up at the moment with some white paint in
his hand, and another with some blue.  A white diamond was immediately
planted on each cheek, and a blue circle under each eye, with a red spot
in the centre of each.  So far, the work was very striking and
suggestive, but when Powlet finished off by drawing a series of blue,
red, and white lines over Olaf's eyes, in the forms that usually
indicate astonishment, added a red oval to the chin, with a blue spot in
the middle of it, and stuck some feathers in his hair, the effect was
absolutely tremendous, for it caused the native boys to yell with
delight, and Snorro almost to fall off his protector's knee in a fit of
juvenile hysterics.

"Don't overdo it, Snorrie," said Olaf in some alarm.

"Oh!  O'af, 'oo _is so_ fun-ny!" he cried again, giving way to mirth
till the tears ran down his cheeks.

At this point a tall savage came rushing out of the chief's tent with
glaring eyes, and made for the spot where the boys were assembled.  They
seemed to know at once what was his errand, for, with one consent, they
scattered and fled.  The tall savage singled out Powlet, caught him,
punched his head, and flung him into the river, after which he turned,
and, without taking any notice of the captives further than to gaze at
them, returned leisurely to the regal tent.

Meanwhile Powlet came to the surface, swam like an otter to the shore,
and, clambering up the bank, ran into the woods, seemingly none the
worse of his bath.

Thus left alone, Olaf put Snorro on his back and sauntered away into the
woods along the banks of the river.  Forgetting his ridiculous
appearance, he began to think of home and to feel very sad, while his
charge, overcome with his late exertions, fell asleep on his back.  The
longer he walked the sadder he grew, and at last he groaned rather than
said, "What _shall_ I do?"

Suddenly it occurred to him, that as the savages appeared to be very
careless about watching him, he might run away.  It could do no harm to
try, and he would not be in a much worse position than when lost in the
woods before.  Under the influence of this thought he stopped and looked
cautiously round in all directions.  No one was to be seen.  He breathed
hard, turned off the track on tiptoe until he had got into what appeared
to him to be a very dense and sequestered part of the woods, then
suddenly took to his heels and ran for his life!

A loud laugh sounded in the bushes in front of him, and he stopped short
just as Powlet appeared, wagging his small head and laughing
inordinately.

Poor Olaf guessed at once that the boy had been set to watch him; he
therefore wheeled about and walked back to the river, where, going out
on a spit of land that he might not be overheard, he sat down on the
ground and communed bitterly with himself.

"Oh why, why did I break my promise?" he murmured in deep despondency.

After a long silence he began to think aloud.

"It all comes of _disobedience_!" he muttered.

"Father used to say, `If you love me, obey me.  If you want to prove
that you love Gudrid, _obey_ her.'  That's it, Olaf.  It's there that
the sin lies.  He told me never to pass the ridge, and I _did_ pass the
ridge, even though I had promised not to; and so, owing to that little
bit of disobedience, here you are, Olaf--and Snorrie too--poor Snorrie--
and we're likely to remain here for ever, as far as I can see.  Oh that
I had not done it!  But what good can wishing do _now_?  If I had loved
father better, perhaps I would have obeyed him better."

It would almost seem as if Olaf had heard of such a word as this--"If ye
love me, keep my commandments!"

After a few minutes he broke forth again--"Yes, I know that I did not
intend to disobey; nevertheless I _did_ it.  And I did not think such
awful things would follow--but that does not mend the matter.  What
_shall_ I do?  Snorrie, I think I could gladly lay down my life, if I
could give you back once more to your mother."

Snorro heard not the remark.  He was as sound as a top, and Olaf looked
sadly at the little head that lay on his shoulder.  Then it struck him
that it was high time to have the child put to bed, so he rose and
hurried back to the women's tent, where he was received with as much
kindness as before.

Very soon Snorro's little head reposed upon a pillow of rabbit-skins,
and not long after that Olaf went to rest beside him on a deer-skin
couch, where, lying on his back, he could see the sky through the hole
in the top of the tent whence the smoke of the fire escaped.  As he lay
there the burden of his thoughts was ever the same--"Oh _why_ did I do
it?  Why did I disobey?"  Thus the poor boy lay, self-condemned, and
gazed upwards and pondered, until sweet sleep came and carried heart and
brain to the blessed refuge of oblivion.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

REINFORCEMENTS SENT OFF TO KARLSEFIN--FOES DISCOVERED IN THE WOODS--A
NIGHT ATTACK, AND OTHER WARLIKE MATTERS.

We must return now for a little to the settlement of the Norsemen,
which, by the way, had by this time come to be called by the name of
Leifsgaard.

Here, from Thorward's house, there issued tones which indicated the
existence of what is popularly known as a "breeze."  Human breezes are
usually irregular, and blow after the manner of counter-currents; but in
Thorward's habitation the breezes almost invariably blew in one
direction, and always issued from the lungs of Freydissa, who possessed
a peculiar knack of keeping and enjoying all the breeze to herself, some
passive creature being the butt against which it impinged.

On the present occasion that butt was Bertha.  Indeed, Bertha was a
species of practising-butt, at which Freydissa exercised herself when
all other butts failed, or when she had nothing better to do.

"Don't say to me that you can't help it!" she cried, in her own amiably
shrill tones.  "You can help it well enough if you choose.  You are
always at it, morning, noon, and night; I'm quite sick of you, girl; I'm
sorry I brought you here; I'd send you back to Greenland to-morrow if I
could.  If the ship sank with you on the passage, I'd rejoice--I
_would_!  There! don't say it again, now; you're going to--I can see
that by your whimpering look.  _Don't_ say you can't help it.  Don't!
don't!  Do you hear?"

"Indeed, _indeed_ I can't--"

"There!  I knew you would," shrieked Freydissa, as she raised herself
from the wash-tub in which she had been manipulating some articles of
clothing as if she were tearing Bertha to pieces--"_why_ can't you?"

"It isn't easy to help weeping," whimpered Bertha, as she continued to
drive her spinning-wheel, "when one thinks of all that has passed, and
poor--"

"Weeping! weeping!" cried Freydissa, diving again into the tub; "do you
call that weeping?  _I_ call it downright blubbering.  Why, your face is
as much _begrutten_ as if you were a mere baby."

This was true, for what between her grief at the sudden disappearance of
Olaf and Snorro, and the ceaseless assaults of her mistress, who was
uncommonly cross that morning, Bertha's pretty little face was indeed a
good deal swelled and inflamed about the eyes and cheeks.  She again
took refuge in silence, but this made no difference to Freydissa, or
rather it acted, if anything, as a provocative of wrath.  "Speak, you
hussy!" was usually her irate manner of driving the helpless little
handmaid out of that refuge.

"What were you going to say?  Poor what?" she asked sharply, after a few
minutes' silence.

"I was going to say that poor Snorro and--"

"Oh! it's all very well to talk of poor Snorro," interrupted her
mistress; "you know quite well that you took to snivelling long before
Snorro was lost.  You're thinking of Hake, you are.  You know you are,
and you daren't deny it, for your red face would give you the lie if you
did.  Hake indeed!  Even though he _is_ a thrall, he's too good for such
a silly thing as you.  There, be off with you till you can stop your
_weeping_, as you call it.  Go!"

Freydissa enforced her command by sending a mass of soapy cloth which
she had just wrung out after the retreating Bertha.  Fortunately she was
a bad shot.  The missile flew past its intended object, and, hitting a
hen, which had ventured to intrude, on the legs, swept it with a
terrific cackle into the road, to the amazement, not to say horror, of
the cock and chickens.

As Bertha disappeared Biarne entered the room--"Hallo!  Freydissa,
stormy weather--eh?"

"You can go outside and see for yourself," answered Freydissa angrily.

"So I mean to," returned Biarne, with a smile, "for the weather is
pleasanter outside than in; but I must first presume to put the question
that brought me here.  Do you chance to know where Leif is this
morning?"

"How should I know?"

"By having become acquainted with the facts of the case somehow,"
suggested Biarne.

"Well, then, I don't know; so you can go study the weather."

"Oho! mistress: I see that it is time we sent to Iceland for another
cat!"

This allusion to her husband's former treatment of her pet was almost
the only thing that could calm--or at least restrain--the storm!
Freydissa bit her lips and flushed as she went on with her washing, but
she said nothing more.

"Well, good-morning," said Biarne as he left the house to search for
Leif.

He found him busily engaged in executing some repairs on board the
"_Snake_."

"I have a thought in my head," said Biarne.

"Out with it then," replied Leif, wiping his brow, "because thoughts, if
kept long in the brain, are apt to hatch, and the chicken-thoughts are
prone to run away at the moment of birth, and men have a tendency to
chase the chickens, to the utter forgetting of the original hens!  What
is thy thought, Biarne?"

"That I should take as many of the men as you can spare," he replied,
"and go off by water to reinforce Karlsefin."

"That is strange," said Leif.  "I sometimes think that there must be a
mysterious influence which passes between mind and mind.  The very same
thought came into my head this morning when I was at work on this oar,
and I had intended to talk with you on the subject.  But why do you
think this course of action needful?"

"Just because the party of savages may turn out to be larger than we
imagined, or they may be joined by others, and it has occurred to me
that the force which is out with Karlsefin is barely sufficient to make
a good stand against heavy odds.  With a small party heavy odds against
you is a serious matter; but with a large party heavy odds on the side
of the enemy makes little weight--unless, indeed, their men are willing
to come on and be killed in large numbers, which my experience of
savages assures me that they are never willing to do."

"Your reasons, Biarne, are very much the same as my own; therefore,
being of one mind, we shall go about the business without delay, for if
our aid is to reach them at all it must be extended at once.  Go, then,
select and collect your men; I will be content to guard the place with
the half of those that are now here; and make haste, Biarne, the more I
think of it the more I fear delay."

Biarne was not slow to act.  In a remarkably brief space of time he had
selected his men, prepared the canoes, loaded them with arms and food,
and got everything ready; so that before the afternoon had far advanced
he was enabled to set off with four canoes and thirty-two men.

Meanwhile Leif had set those that remained to complete a small central
point of defence--a sort of fortalice--which had been for some time in
preparation as a last refuge for the colonists in the event of their
ever being attacked by overwhelming numbers.

Karlsefin had long seen the propriety of building some such stronghold;
but the friendly relations that had existed for a considerable period
between the Norsemen and the natives had induced him to suspend building
operations, until several annoying misunderstandings and threats on the
part of the savages had induced him to resume the work.  At the time of
which we write it was almost completed.

This fortress was little more than a strong palisade of stout planks
about twelve feet high, placed close together, with narrow slits on
every side for the discharge of arrows, and a platform all round the top
inside, on which men could stand to repel an assault or discharge stones
and other missiles over the wall.  But the chief strength of the place
lay in its foundation, which was the summit of a small isolated rocky
mound in the centre of the hamlet.  The mound was not more than thirty
feet high, but its sides were so steep that the top could not be reached
without difficulty, and its area was so small that the little
fortification embraced the whole of it.  It was large enough, however,
to contain the whole population of the place, exclusive of the cattle.

To the completion, then, of this place of refuge, Leif addressed himself
with all the energy of his nature.  A large shed was erected in one
corner of it, with a strong plank roof, to protect the women from
stones, arrows, and javelins, which were the only projectiles in vogue
at that period of the world's history.  Another shed was built just
under the fortalice, on the lake side, for the safe housing of the live
stock.  Arrows were made in great numbers by some of the men, while
others gathered and stored an immense supply of heavy ammunition in the
shape of stones.  Besides this a large quantity of dried provisions was
stored in the women's shed, also a supply of water; but in regard to the
last, being near the lake, and within easy bow-shot of their vessel,
they trusted to bold night-sallies for additional supplies of the
indispensable fluid.  Finally, the work was carried on with such vigour
that eight days after Biarne's departure it was finished.

Finished--and not a moment too soon!  At the time when Biarne started on
his voyage, the woods were, unknown to the Norsemen, alive with savages.
Fortunately these had not observed the departure of the canoes, the
whole of them being engaged at the time deep within the woods, holding a
council of war, in which it was resolved to attack the white invaders of
their land, kill them all, and appropriate their property.

Leif committed a slight mistake in not sending out scouts at this time
to guard against surprise, but he was so eager to have the works
completed that he grudged sending away any of his small body of men.

On the day when everything had been got ready, he sent a man named
Hengler, who was an expert bowman, to procure some venison.  In less
than an hour Hengler was seen running towards the hamlet at break-neck
speed, with his eyes almost starting out of his head, his hair streaming
in the breeze, and two savages close on his heels.

"To arms, men!" shouted Leif, as he snatched up a bow, and, without
waiting to put on helmet or sword, ran out to meet Hengler.

Seeing this, the savages stopped, hastily fitted arrows to their
bowstrings and discharged them, the one at Hengler, the other at Leif.
The first just grazed the flying Norseman's ear; the other fell short,
but before a second discharge was possible Leif had sent an arrow
whizzing at the first savage.  It pierced his thigh.  Uttering a fierce
yell, he plucked the shaft out of the wound, and turning round fled back
to the woods followed by his companion.

"Not a moment to lose," gasped Hengler, as he ran into the hamlet.
"There are hundreds of them everywhere."

"Coming towards us?" asked Leif.

"Not when I saw them, but doubtless when these two return they will come
down like a mountain foss."

"Quick, get into the fort, lads!--Stay, Hengler, assist me with the
women."

"Do you think they really mean to attack us?" asked Gudrid, who, with
Bertha and Freydissa, came forward at the moment.

"Assuredly they do," answered Leif; "come, follow Hengler to the fort.
Whatever they intended before, the arrow in that fellow's leg will
settle the question.  Where are Thora and Astrid?"

"In the dairy," replied Gudrid.

"Away, then; I go to fetch them."

"Would that I were a man!" exclaimed Freydissa, catching up a spear and
shaking it as she strode along with the rest.  "_I'd_ teach them to
think twice before coming here to disturb peaceable folk!"

"Peaceable," thought Leif, with a grim smile, as he hurried towards the
dairy; but he said nothing, for he deemed that to be a time for silence
and action.

In a few minutes nearly all the population of the place had taken refuge
in the fort, and soon afterwards the livestock was driven into the shed
beside the rock.  The gate was then shut and the men mounted the
battlements, or breastwork, to watch for the expected foe.

But no foe made his appearance.  Hour after hour passed away; the sun
descended behind the tree-tops and below the horizon; the grey mantle of
evening overspread the scene; still the watchers stood on the
battlements and gazed intently into the forest--still there was not the
slightest sound or symptom of an enemy in the vast sleeping wilderness.

"Now this is passing strange," observed Hengler, who had been appointed
second in command, and stood beside Leif.

"Not so strange as ye suppose," replied Leif.  "Many a time have I
fought with men in the mountains of Norway and on the plains of Valland,
and invariably have I found that a surprise is never attempted save in
the night."

"True," returned Hengler, "but when a very strong foe stands before a
very weak one, it seems to me childish to delay the assault."

"Thine ignorance of war must be great, Hengler," returned Leif,
regarding the man with a smile, "if thou hast yet to learn that a body
of men weak in numbers becomes passing strong when posted behind good
walls, with plenty of missiles and provender."

"My knowledge of war is not great," said the man, who was quite a youth,
"but methinks it is like to improve now."

"I fear it is," returned Leif sadly, "but now I will give thee a job to
perform that is necessary.  From my experience of such matters I feel
well assured that the savages intend an assault during the night, when
they doubtless expect that their numbers will more easily cope with and
overcome us; but in my judgment it is likely that they understand
nothing of this fort-work, therefore I shall give _them_ a surprise,
instead of receiving one at their hands.  Go thou, then, with six of the
most active among the men, and slip as quietly as may be into the
forest; gather there as many pine cones as shall fill your shields to
overflowing, and bring them hither, along with a quantity of birch bark.
If ye are attacked fight your way back, and we will cover your retreat
from the ramparts."

While Hengler and six men were absent on this duty, another small party
was sent to fetch into the fort a log about eighteen feet long, which
lay on the ground close at hand; at the same time they were ordered to
run down to the lake and bring up three or four old planks which had
lain for a long time in the water, and were quite sodden.  These things
were all secured and carried into the fortress in the course of a few
minutes.  The log was then set up on end and sunk deep into a hole in
the ground, so that it remained standing in the centre of the fort with
the top just reaching a little above the walls.  Pegs were driven into
it all the way up, so that a man could easily ascend it.  On the top of
this pole was affixed a platform made of the soaked planks, about six
feet square, with a hole left near the head of the pole through which a
man could thrust himself.  These Norsemen were smart in using their
hands and axes.  The contrivance which we have taken so long to describe
was erected in a very few minutes.  It was well-nigh completed when
Hengler and his party returned with the pine cones and birch bark, both
of which substances are exceedingly resinous and inflammable.  Leif made
the men carry them to the top of the pole, and pile them on the
platform.  He then ordered a small fire to be kindled in a corner of the
fort, but to be kept very low and small, so that the tiny wreath of
smoke which arose from it might be dissipated before it reached the
battlements.  After that he called all the men to him.

"Now, my lads," said he, "it is likely that these savages will try to
take us by surprise.  This they will not find it easy to do.  From what
I know of them they will come like the fox--slily--and try to pounce
upon us.  We will let them come; we will let them pounce, and not show
face until such time as I give the word--then ye will know how to quit
you like men.  Away, all of you, to rest--each man with his shield above
him and his sword by his side.  I myself will do the part of sentinel."

The men quietly obeyed this order.  Leif did not think it necessary to
say more to them, but to Hengler and two others who had been selected as
leaders he revealed more minutely the intended plan of action before
they lay down.

Leaving Hengler for a few minutes to guard the walls, he entered the
shed where the women were seated.

"You must keep well under cover, Gudrid," he said, "for it is likely
that these fellows will shower some arrows upon us--perhaps something
heavier; but we are well prepared to receive them."

"Are our enemies numerous?" asked Gudrid anxiously.

"So it is said, but that will do them little service so long as we are
behind these walls."

"I wish I had my fingers in their chief's hair!" muttered Freydissa
between her teeth.

"I echo the wish you expressed not long ago," said Leif laughing.
"Would that thou wert a man, Freydissa, for assuredly a spirit like
thine is invaluable on the field of battle."

"Thankful am I that there are other fields besides battle-fields where
women may be useful," observed Bertha, who was seated on a box beside
Astrid, with her arm round her waist.

Freydissa merely cast on her handmaid a look of scorn, for she was aware
that neither the time nor place was suited to the exercise of her
peculiar talents.

"I just looked in to assure you that all goes well," said Leif,
addressing the women generally, "and that you have nothing to fear."

"We fear _nothing_!" said Freydissa, answering for the rest.

The somewhat flippant remark, "Speak for yourself," might have been
appropriately made by some of her sisterhood, but they were all too
anxious about the impending danger to heed what she said.

When Leif rejoined Hengler on the walls, the shades of night had fallen
on the forest.  He advised his lieutenant to lie down, but Hengler
begged and obtained permission to share his vigil.

There was no moon that night, and it became extremely dark--just such a
night as was suited to the purpose of the natives.  Leif stood
motionless, like a statue, leaning on his spear.  His man sat on the
rampart; both gazed and listened with painful intensity.

At last Leif pointed to what appeared to be a moving object on the space
of cleared ground that intervened between the slight wall of the hamlet
and the edge of the forest.

"Awake the men," he whispered, "and let not a sound of voice or clank of
sword be heard."

Hengler made no reply, but glided silently away.  One by one the men
came up with the light tread of cats, and manned the walls, keeping well
under cover of the parapet--each taking his appointed station beside his
particular pile of stones and sheaf of arrows, which lay on the
platform, while below a man with a bow was stationed at every slit.

Suddenly there arose on the night air a yell so fierce, so prolonged,
and so peculiar, that it made even the stout hearts of the Norsemen
quail for a moment--it was so unearthly, and so unlike any war-cry they
had ever before heard.  Again and again it was repeated, then a rushing
sound was heard, and hundreds of dark objects were indistinctly seen
leaping over the slight wall of felled trees that surrounded the hamlet.

With furious shouts the savages surrounded the houses, burst open the
doors, and rushed in; but they rushed out again almost immediately, and
their yells were exchanged for exclamations of surprise as they went
about searching in the dark for their concealed enemies.  Of course they
came to the rock-fortress almost immediately after, and another war-cry
was uttered as they surrounded the place in hundreds, but as there was
still no sound or appearance of their expected foe, they became suddenly
silent, as if under the impression that there was something mysterious
in the affair which was not in accordance with their past experiences.

They nevertheless clambered to the top of the rock, and began to feel
round the bottom of the wooden palisades for a door.

At that moment, while they were clustering thick as bees round the base
of the building, Leif gave a preconcerted signal.  One of the men
applied a light to the pile of bark and fir-cones, and a bright flash of
flame shot upward as Leif said,--"Up, lads!" in deep stern tones.

Instantly a shower of heavy stones descended on the pates of the
savages, who rolled down the steep sides of the mound with shrieks and
cries and yells very different indeed from those which had characterised
their assault.  From all directions the savages now concentrated on the
fortress.  At the same time the fire suddenly shot up with such a glare
that the whole scene was made nearly as light as day, and from the
parapets and every loop-hole of the fortress a very hail of arrows
poured forth into the midst of them, while their own shafts either
quivered in the palisade or fell harmless from the shields and helmets
of the Norsemen.

Even in that hour of extreme danger, Leif's desire to spare life, with a
view to future proposals of peace, was exemplified in his ordering the
men to draw their bows slightly, so as to wound without killing, as much
as possible, and to aim as well as they could at the legs of the foe!
One result of this was, that the wounded men were soon very numerous,
and, as they fled away, filled the woods with such howls of agony that
their still unhurt comrades were more alarmed than they would probably
have been if the ground had been strewn with the dead.

At this point a vigorous sally from the fortress, and a deep-toned Norse
cheer, settled the question for the time being.  The entire army of
dark-skinned warriors turned and fled into its native wilderness!

There was not, it may be well to remark here, so much danger in this
sally as we moderns might suppose, for, even though the savages had not
run, but had faced and surrounded their enemy, these Norsemen, with
their massive limbs, sweeping swords, large shields, and defensive
armour, could have cut their way back again to the fort through hundreds
of such half-naked foes.

Of course Leif had expected them to fly, and had no intention of
retiring immediately to the fort.  He merely went the length of the
outer wall, and then, with half of his men, kept up a vigorous shouting
to expedite the flight of the foe, while the other half picked up as
many arrows as they could find.  Leif was glad to learn, on returning to
the fort, that only two dead men had been discovered on the ground.

But the savages had not given in by any means, as became pretty clear
from the noise they made in the woods soon afterwards.  This continued
all night, and Leif ordered the fire to be extinguished, lest they
should be tempted by its light to send a flight of arrows among them,
which might wound some of his people when off their guard.

When the first grey light of dawn appeared, it became evident to the
beleaguered Norsemen what the savages had been about.  Not very far from
the fortress an enormous pile of dry timber had been raised, and,
although it was within easy bow-shot, the savages managed, by dodging
from tree to tree, to get under its shelter with fresh logs on their
shoulders, and thus increased the pile continually.

"They mean to burn us out!" exclaimed Hengler anxiously.

"Rather to smoke us out," observed one of the men.  "Fire can never
reach us from that distance."

Leif, who was very grave, shook his head and said:--

"If they make the pile very big it may reach us well enough.  They have
plenty of hands and no lack of wood.  See, they are piling it to
windward.  God grant that the breeze may not increase, else shall we
have to forsake the fortress.  Nevertheless our good ship is at hand,"
he added, in a more cheerful tone, "and they will find us tough to deal
with when we get upon the water.--Come, lads, we will at all events
harass if we cannot stop them."

So saying, Leif ordered the men to keep up a constant discharge of
arrows whenever they obtained a glimpse of the savages, and he himself
headed a sally and drove them back to the woods.  But as soon as he and
his men had returned to the fortress, out came the savages again like a
swarm of bees, and continued their work vigorously.

Thus the morning passed away, and the pile of the intended bonfire,
despite the arrows and the frequent sallies of the Norsemen, continued
slowly but steadily to grow.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

HAKE MAKES A BOLD VENTURE, BUT DOES NOT WIN--THE NORSEMEN FIND THAT
THERE IS MANY A SLIP 'TWIXT THE CUP AND THE LIP.

When Karlsefin and his men had surmounted the rapid, as before
described, they found their future advance unimpeded, and, in the
natural course of things--or of the river--arrived, not long after the
children, at the lake-like expansion on the shores of which the native
village stood.

This village, it must be understood, was not a permanent one.  The
natives were nomads.  Their tents were merely poles cut as required from
the neighbouring woods, tied together at the top, spread out in a circle
at the base, and covered with leather, which coverings were the only
parts of their habitations the natives deigned to carry about with them.
They were here to-day and away to-morrow, stopping a longer or shorter
time in each encampment according to fancy, or to the measure of their
success in procuring food.  The particular tribe of natives which had
captured the Norsemen's children had only just come to the locality;
they therefore knew nothing of the arrival of the white strangers in
their land, except what they had recently learned from their scouts, as
we have seen.

Karlsefin's canoe led the way; hence, on turning sharp round a point of
rock that jutted out into the stream, Krake was the first who caught
sight of the smoke that rose above the tree-tops.

"Hist! hold on," he exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, looking over his
shoulder as he backed-water suddenly.  Karlsefin and the men instantly
did the same, and sent the canoe back under the shelter of the point.
The other canoes of course followed suit.

"The Skraelingers!" whispered Krake.  "I saw the smoke of their fires."

"Did you see tents?" asked the leader.

"No; there was scarce time to see anything before we got back here."

"What do you advise?" asked Karlsefin, looking at Thorward.

"Go ashore and attack them at once," he replied.

"Ay, that's it, there's nothing like fighting it out at once!" muttered
Krake in an undertone.

"My advice," said Karlsefin, "is, that we cross the river and get on
yonder height, which from its position must needs overlook the camp of
the savages, and there reconnoitre and form our plans."

"Well, I daresay your advice is best after all," rejoined Thorward, with
a smile.  "You were always a cautious and peaceful man; though I'm bound
in fairness to admit that you can fight passing well when it comes to
that."

"Thanks for your good opinion," said Karlsefin, laughing quietly.  "So
now, lads, turn about and follow me closely.  Keep silence, and dip your
paddles as lightly as may be."

Saying this, he returned a considerable way down the river; keeping very
close in to the banks, which were overhung with bushes, until he reached
a point where it seemed likely that the party could cross without being
observed.  There was a slight rapid at the place, so that they had only
to enter it at an angle with the bank and were swept across in a few
moments, almost without requiring to use their paddles.

Landing at the edge of a dense thicket, they hauled the canoes out of
the water, secreted them carefully, and then, taking their arms, made a
detour through the forest in the direction of the cliff before referred
to by Karlsefin.  In less than half an hour they reached it, and found,
as had been anticipated, that it commanded a view of the native
encampment, which to their dismay they now discovered was an immense
one, filled with many hundreds of men, besides women and children.

Here, prone on their breasts, and scarce venturing to raise their heads
above the grass, the two leaders held a consultation, while their men
kept well in the background.

"This is an unfortunate business," said Karlsefin.

"Truly it is," replied Thorward; "but the question is, can this be the
set of rascals who carried off the children?  It seems to me that, being
a small band, as we know, they did not belong to the same set."

"That may be so, Thorward;--but I incline to the belief that the small
party was but an offshoot from the large one, and that our dear little
ones are even now with the people before us."

As if to put the matter beyond doubt, Olaf, with Snorro on his back,
issued at that moment from the woods on the opposite side of the river,
and went out upon the identical spit of sand where, on the previous
evening, he had held such bitter communings with his own spirit.  The
Norseman leaders recognised the children at once, being almost within
hail of them, and it was with difficulty they restrained the impulse to
spring to their feet and shout.

"Thanks be to God for the sight of them at all events," said Karlsefin
fervently; "see, the dear boy has brought my darling there to amuse
him.--Ah! little dost thou know, Olaf, the hold that thy kindness has
given thee of his father's heart!"

"'Twould be well if he had a hold of the father's hand just at this
time," drily observed Thorward, who was not gifted with much of a
sentimental temperament.

"That is not easy of accomplishment," returned the other.  "Even you
would scarcely, methinks, advise so small a band of men to make an open
attack on five or six hundred savages."

"I would not advise it," replied Thorward; "nevertheless, if it came to
the worst I would _do_ it.  But what, then, is your advice?"

"Why, _until_ it comes to the worst we must try strategy," answered
Karlsefin.  "I will call Hake to our council; the youth, I have
observed, is a deep thinker, and clear-sighted."

When Hake was summoned, and had laid himself down beside his leaders, he
remained for some time silently gazing on the busy scene below, where
some men in canoes were spearing fish in the bay, and others were
skinning and cutting up deer near the edge of the woods, while women
were cooking and engaged in other domestic duties at the doors of the
tents, and children and dogs were romping about everywhere.

"Could we not get into our canoes," suggested Thorward, "make a dash at
the spit of sand, and carry off the children at a swoop before the
brown-skinned rascals were well aware of us?"

"They would see us before we got half-way to the spit," replied
Karlsefin, "carry the children into the woods, and then be ready to
receive us in hundreds on shore.--What think you, Hake; can you suggest
any plan of outwitting these savages?"

"I have a plan," answered the Scot, "but I fear you will deem it
foolish."

"Out with it, man, foolish or otherwise," said Thorward, who was
beginning to chafe under difficulties that appeared to be
insurmountable, even by his favourite method--force of arms.

"If ye approve of it," returned Hake, "I will cross the river alone and
unarmed, and walk straight to the spot where the children are now
seated.  Much of the way is concealed by shrubs, and when I saunter
across the open part, it may be that I shall scarce be noticed until I
am near them.  If I be, then will I make a dash, catch them up, make for
the rapid, plunge in, and, on gaining the opposite bank, run to meet
you.  We can then hasten to the canoes--fight our way to them if need
be--and sweep down the river.  We shall probably get a fair start; and
if so, it will go hard but we reach Leifsgaard before they overtake us.
If not, why--"

Hake touched the hilt of his sword by way of completing the sentence.

"A rare plan!" said Thorward with a suppressed chuckle; "and how, my
bold youth, if thou art observed and caught before getting hold of the
children?"

"I will then set my wits to devise some other plan.  It may be of some
advantage to them that I should be a captive along with the children,
and at most it is but one man lost to the expedition."

"Ay, but that would be a heavy loss," said Karlsefin; "nevertheless the
plan seems to me not so unlikely--only there are one or two points about
which I have my doubts.  In the first place, although your legs are
marvellously good, I fear that with the additional weight of Olaf and
Snorro on them, the fleet runners among the savages, of whom there must
be many, would soon overtake thee."

"With Olaf on my back, Snorro under my left arm, and the right arm free
to swing--I think _not_," replied Hake, quietly but decidedly.

"Then as to crossing: how do you--"

"I would swim," replied Hake.

"What! with the weight and drag of wet garments to cumber you!"
exclaimed Thorward; "besides making it clear to the savages, if they
caught you, that you had come from the opposite bank of the river, where
your _friends_ might be expected to be waiting for you!"

"I would tie my clothes in a tight bundle on the top of my head," said
Hake.  "Many a time have I crossed the streams of my native land in this
manner."

"Well, ye have a ready answer for everything," returned Thorward;
"nevertheless I like not the plan."

"If you cannot suggest a better, I am disposed to let Hake try it," said
Karlsefin.

Thorward had no better plan to suggest.  Indeed, the more he thought of
it the more did he feel inclined to make a tremendous onslaught, cut as
many men to pieces as he could before having his own life taken, and so
have done with the whole affair for ever.  Fortunately for Olaf and
Snorro his counsels were not followed.

In a few minutes Hake was ready.  His brother was ordered to lead the
men back to the canoes, there to keep in close hiding and await further
orders.  Meanwhile Karlsefin remained on the cliff to watch the result.

Hake felt it to be a desperate venture, but he was possessed of that
species of spirit which rejoices in such, and prefers danger to safety.
Besides, he saw at a glance that there would be no chance whatever of
success if his leaders made up their minds to attempt an open attack
against such fearful odds.

With a light step the young Scot descended to the river, thinking of
Bertha as he went.  A few minutes afterwards he was seen--or rather his
head with a bundle on it--was seen crossing the river by the watchers on
the cliff.  A few minutes later, and he was on the opposite shore
rapidly putting on his light garments.  Thereafter he entered the
bushes, and a glimpse could be caught of him ever and anon as he glided
swiftly, like the panther towards his prey.

When the last point capable of affording concealment was gained, Hake
assumed a careless air, and, with his head down, as if in meditation,
sauntered towards the spit of land where Olaf and Snorro were still
playing.

"Well done!" exclaimed Thorward, with a look of admiration; "cleverly,
bravely done!"

There is no doubt that such was the case, and that Hake would have
reached the children unobserved by the natives had not Olaf chanced to
notice him while he was yet about fifty yards off.  He recognised him at
once, and, with a shout of joy, ran to meet him.

Hake dashed past him, sprang toward Snorro, whom he caught up, and,
stooping, cried--"Up, Olaf! up for your life!"

Olaf understood at once, sprang on his back, and held on tight, while
Hake, bending low, sped away at a pace that defied pursuit, though by
that time a hundred savages were almost at his heels!

It was obvious from the first that the lithe Scot was well able to
achieve his purpose.  He was already nearing the rapid.  His pursuers
were far behind, and Karlsefin could scarcely restrain a shout of
exultation as he rose to run round to his canoes, when he observed that
a party of more than a dozen natives, who chanced to be ascending the
river's bank on foot, met the fugitive.  Observing that he was a
stranger, and pursued by natives, they crossed his path at once.

Hake stopped abruptly, glanced at the bushes, then turned to the river,
and was on the point of plunging in, when a canoe, with four savages in
it, shot out from the bank just below him.

He saw at once that escape was impossible.  Feeling intuitively that
submission was his best policy, he set the children on the ground and
quietly suffered himself to be taken prisoner.

"I knew it!  I _said_ it!" growled Thorward between his teeth, as he
sprang up, drew his sword, and slashed down two small trees at a single
stroke in his wrath, then rushing through the woods, he made for the
canoes.

Karlsefin followed in a state of mind almost as furious.  It was such a
bitter disappointment to fail so signally on the very eve of success!

The canoes were already in the water and manned when the leaders reached
them, for Heika, who had been left in charge, knew well that whatever
might be the result of the enterprise, prompt action would be necessary.

"Quick, shove off!" cried Karlsefin, taking his place, and driving his
paddle into the water with such force that the light craft shot from the
bank like an arrow.

The men were not slow to obey.  The fierce spirit of their leader seemed
to be catching, and the foam curled from their respective bows, leaving
a long white track behind, as they rushed up the river and swept out
upon the broad expanse above.

Of course they had been seen before reaching that point, and the savages
immediately lined the banks with armed men.  They did not, however, go
out upon the spit of sand where Olaf and Snorro had first been observed
by their friends.  That point was so high up the stream, that it did not
seem to be considered by any one as worthy of attention.  This Karlsefin
observed at once, and formed his plans accordingly.  He advanced as if
he were about to land below the spit, but made no hostile demonstrations
of any kind, and paddled so quietly on nearing the shore, that the
savages did not seem to understand him, and, although ready with their
arrows for instant action, they remained passive.

When within a short distance of the land, Karlsefin suddenly, but still
quietly, turned the head of his canoe up the stream, and made for the
spit of sand.  The other canoes followed.  The natives, perceiving the
intention of the strangers, uttered a wild shout, and made for the same
place along the shore, but before they reached it Karlsefin had landed
with all his men, and, with their stalwart figures and strange arms,
presented such an imposing front that the natives stopped short.

At this point the crowd opened a little to let some one pass, and
Whitepow came to the front.  Judging him to be the chief, Karlsefin at
once laid down his sword, and, stepping a few paces in front of his men,
held up his hands and made demonstrations of a peaceful kind.

But Whitepow was not peacefully inclined.  Although aged, he was a
sturdy fellow, stood erect, and carried a heavy club on his shoulder.
To the Norseman's demonstrations he replied by frowning fiercely and
shaking his head savagely, as though to intimate that he was much too
old a bird to be taken in with such chaff.  Then, turning to those
beside him, he gave an order, which resulted in Hake being led to the
front with his arms tightly bound to his sides.

"Ah!" thought Karlsefin, "if you had only brought the children to that
spot, I would have rescued them at all hazards."

He did not, however, think it wise to make so desperate an attempt
merely to rescue Hake, while the children were still concealed and at
the mercy of the savages.  He therefore put on his blandest looks and
manner, and again invited confidence, but Whitepow again shook his head,
pointed backwards as if in reference to the two children, and then at
Hake, after which he flung his club with such violence and precision at
Karlsefin's head that the stout Norseman would certainly have measured
his length on the sand, if he had not been very much on the alert.  As
it was, he received the missile on his shield, from which it glanced
with a loud clang, and went hissing into the river.

Karlsefin smiled, as if that sort of thing rather amused him than
otherwise, and again held up his hands, and even advanced a step or two
nearer, while the concourse of savages gave vent to a shout of surprise.
It is probable that Whitepow was a hero whose artillery had hitherto
been the messenger of certain death to foes.  The failure of the club
seemed to exasperate the old savage beyond endurance, for he instantly
seized a bow, and let fly an arrow at the Norseman leader.  It was well
aimed, but was also caught on the shield, and fell broken to the ground.

Seeing this, some of the Norsemen hastily drew their bows, but
Karlsefin, anticipating something of the kind, turned about and bade
them forbear.

Meanwhile Whitepow had ordered his warriors to remove Hake, and to fall
back a little.  This they did, and appeared to be awaiting further
orders from their chief, who had gone up towards the tents.  The
movement puzzled Karlsefin, who rejoined his men.

"It is my advice," said Thorward, "that we hesitate no longer.  Stand or
fall, we are in for a fight now, so the sooner we begin the better.  No
doubt the odds are great, but they don't seem to be able for much--at
least if that old chap gave us a good specimen of their powers."

Most of the Norsemen appeared to agree with this advice, but Karlsefin
did not.

"You forget," said he, "that this would not be a mere trial of strength.
If we once begin, and chance to fail, every man of us must die, and our
colony, thus left so weak, would stand a small chance of surviving in
the midst of so many savages.  Besides--the children would be lost _for
ever_!  It is my opinion that we should wait a little to see what this
movement implies.  Perhaps that white-haired old savage may have
recovered his temper and senses by this time, and is making up his mind
to have peace instead of war.  God grant that it may be so."

Instead of replying Thorward frowned darkly, and with something of a
savage sneer on his lip pointed to a bend in the river above them, round
which, at that moment, a hundred canoes swept, and came swiftly towards
them.

"Looks _that_ like peace?" he said bitterly.

Karlsefin's countenance fell.

"All is lost!" he muttered, in a tone that was rather sad than fierce.
"Oh my tender little child!"

Crushing down his feelings with a mighty effort, he turned to the men,
and quietly but quickly arranged them in a circle, with their faces
outwards, so that they presented a front in all directions.

"Now, ye men of Norway and Iceland," he said, "the day has come at last
when ye must prove yourselves worthy descendants of a noble race.  Our
cause this day is a right cause, and God is with the right, whether it
please Him to send death or victory.  Quit you like men, and let us
teach these Skraelingers how to fight--if need be, how to die."

Taking his stand on the landward side of his men, and ordering Thorward
to do the same in the direction of the water, he calmly awaited the
onset.

And now, indeed, it seemed as if a fierce and bloody battle were about
to begin, for when the canoes of their comrades swept round the point of
land, as already described, the savages on shore, constantly reinforced
by new arrivals, began to move steadily down in an overwhelming mass
towards the spit of sand, and the heroes who stood there, though
comparatively so few in number, were, with their superiority of weapons
and courage, certain to make a fearfully prolonged and bloody
resistance.

Affairs had reached this critical point, when a sudden and loud shout
was heard down the river.  All eyes were turned in that direction, and
there several canoes were seen coming round the bend of the river, full
of armed men.  The descent of the native fleet was checked.  The
Norsemen at once recognised their comrades, and greeted their approach
with a lusty cheer.  In another minute the newcomers had leaped upon the
sand.

"Welcome, welcome, Biarne!" exclaimed Thorward, seizing and wringing his
friend's hand in great delight.  "Why, man, we had all but taken leave
of each other, but we shall have another tale to tell now."

"May God bless you, Biarne, for coming so opportunely," said Karlsefin.
"Let your men join and extend the circle.  There, spread it out wider;
that will do.  I won't trouble you with questions just now, Biarne, as
to what made you think of coming.  We have more pressing work on hand."

Thus saying, the leader busied himself in arranging his reinforcements,
while the savages held back, and awaited the result of a consultation
between Whitepow and the chief men of the tribe.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

DIFFICULTIES REGARDING INTERCOMMUNICATION--THE POWER OF FINERY
DISPLAYED--ALSO THE POWER OF SONG AND SENTIMENT.

The additional force thus opportunely gained by the Norsemen, although
hailed with so much enthusiasm, did not very materially alter their
position.  True, they now formed a company of above fifty stout and
well-armed men, who, in the hour of extremity, could make a formidable
resistance to any foe, however numerous; but what chance had they of
ultimately escaping from upwards of a thousand savages, every man of
whom was an adept at bush-warfare; could dart from tree to tree, and
harass and cut off in detail an enemy whom he would not dare, or did not
care, to face in the open field--which latter mode of warfare was more
natural and congenial to the Norsemen?

This truth soon began to force itself upon Karlsefin's understanding;
but as he feared to damp the spirits of his less thoughtful comrades, he
kept his anxieties to himself, and made the best disposition of his
force that was possible in the circumstances.

Very soon there was a movement among the savages on shore, and its
object was not long of being apparent, for presently a fleet of canoes
was seen ascending the river.  At the same time the other fleet renewed
its advance from above, while the men on shore moved once more towards
the spit of sand.

"They mean to attack on all sides at once," said Biarne.

"Let them come," growled Thorward.  "'Tis death or victory now, lads."

No one spoke, but the eagle glances of the men, and their firm grasp of
sword and spear, told that they were ready; and once more it seemed as
if the bloody fight were about to begin, when again it was interrupted
by a shout.  This time the shout came from the woods, from which, a few
minutes later, a solitary savage was seen to issue.  He appeared to be
in haste, and ran through the crowd of warriors, who made way for him,
straight towards the white-haired chief, to whom he appeared to speak
with great fervour and many gesticulations, though he was too far off to
be heard, or his countenance to be distinctly seen, by the Norsemen.

"That fellow brings news of some sort or other.  I should say," remarked
Biarne.

"Whatever his news may be," replied Karlsefin, "I don't think it will be
likely to do much for us."

"The rascal's figure seems not unfamiliar to me," said Thorward.

At that moment the crowd of chiefs around Whitepow shouted the word
"Ho!" apparently in approbation of something that he had just remarked,
and immediately after the man whom Thorward had styled a rascal began to
talk and gesticulate again more violently than ever.

"What _is_ the man after now?" said Thorward.  "It seems to me that he
is mad."

The savage did indeed appear to be slightly deranged, for, in the midst
of his talk, he took an arrow and went through the pantomime of
discharging it; then he applied the point of it to his own back, and
fell down as if wounded; whereupon he rose quietly and kneeled with a
tender air, as if in the act of succouring a wounded man; and thereafter
went on to perform other pantomimic acts, which at last induced Thorward
to open his eyes very wide and whistle, as he exclaimed--"Why, 'tis
Utway, that fellow who was half killed in our first brush with the
Skraelingers."

"Ay, and who was so tenderly nursed by Bertha," added Biarne.

"There can be no doubt of it," said Karlsefin, in a cheerful voice; "and
now have I some hope of a peaceful end to this affair, for what else can
he be doing but pleading our cause?"

"I'm not so sure of that," replied Thorward.  "He may just as likely be
telling them what lots of good things might be got by killing us all and
taking possession of Leifsgaard."

"The question will soon be settled, Thorward, for here comes the
savage," said Biarne.

This was true.  Having finished his talk, whatever it was, and heard a
brief reply from Whitepow, Utway turned round and ran fearlessly towards
the Norsemen.

"I will go meet him," said Karlsefin.

"There may be danger in that," suggested Biarne.

"Greater danger in showing distrust," replied Karlsefin.  "Confidence
should beget confidence."

Without more words he flung down sword and shield, and advanced unarmed
to meet the savage, whom he shook warmly by the hand--a style of
salutation which Utway thoroughly understood, having learned it while
lying wounded in Leifsgaard.

They could not of course make use of speech, but Utway was such a
powerful gesticulator that it was not difficult to make out his meaning.
After shaking hands he put his hand on his heart, then laid it on
Karlsefin's breast, and pointed towards the old chief with an air that
would have done credit to a courtier.

Karlsefin at once took the hand of the savage, and walked with him
through the midst of the native chiefs, above whose heads he towered
conspicuously, until he stood before Whitepow.  Taking off his iron
helmet he bowed to the old chief, an act which appeared to afford that
worthy much satisfaction, for, although he did not venture to return the
bow, he exclaimed "Ho!" with solemn emphasis.

This was all very pleasant, but it was not much.  Karlsefin, therefore,
tried his hand at a little gesticulation, while the natives gazed at him
with speechless interest.  Whitepow and Utway then replied with a
variety of energetic demonstrations, some of which the Norseman
understood, while of others he could make nothing at all, but the result
of it all was, that Utway made a final proposal, which was very clear,
to the effect that the Norsemen should approach the savages, mingle with
them, and be friends.

To this Karlsefin returned a decided negative, by shaking his head and
frowning portentously.  At the same time he stooped and held his hand
about two feet from the ground, as if to indicate something that stood
pretty nearly that height.  Then he tenderly patted the top of the
imaginary thing, whatever it was, and took it up in his arms, kissed it,
and laid it on his breast.  After that he indicated another thing
somewhat higher, which he also patted on the top.  Thereafter he pressed
his arms close to his side and struggled as if to get loose from
something, but could not until he had taken hold of an imaginary knife,
cut the something which bound him, and set his arms free.

All this was apparently understood and immensely relished by the
natives, who nodded to each other and vociferated "Ho!" to such an
extent that the repetition caused it to sound somewhat like a fiendish
laugh.  But here Whitepow put in his veto, shook his head and appeared
inexorable, whereupon Karlsefin crossed his arms on his breast and
looked frowningly on the ground.

Things had just reached this uncomfortable pass, when Karlsefin's eye
chanced to fall on the end of a piece of bright scarlet cloth with which
Gudrid had smilingly ornamented his neck before he set out on this
expedition,--just as a young wife might, in chivalrous ages, have tied a
scarf to her knight's arm before sending him off to the wars.

A sudden idea flashed upon him.  He unfastened the strip of cloth, and,
advancing, presented it to Whitepow, with a bland smile.

The aged chief was not proof against this.  He gazed at the brilliant
cloth with intense admiration, and expressed as much delight at
receiving it as if he had been a child--which, by the way, he was, in
regard to such fabrics and in his inability to restrain his feelings.

Rejoiced to observe the good effect thus produced, Karlsefin did his
best to assure the chief that there was plenty more of the same in his
possession, besides other things--all of which Utway corroborated,--and
signified that he, Whitepow, should have large quantities thereof if he
would restore the captives to their friends.  In order to add force to
what he said, he drew from his pouch or wallet several small metal
ornaments strung together like beads, and presented these also to
Whitepow, as well as to several of the chiefs who stood nearest to him.
At the same time he uncovered, as if inadvertently, a magnificent silver
brooch which hung round his neck, under his leathern war-shirt.

This brooch was by no means a trifling bauble.  It was massive,
beautifully carved, and hung round with little silver cups and
diamond-shaped pieces of silver about the size of a man's thumb-nail.
It was much prized by its owner on account of being an heirloom of his
family, having been carried to Iceland by his forefathers when they were
expatriated from Norway by King Harald Fairhair.

Whitepow's eye at once fell on the brooch, and he expressed a strong
desire to possess it.

Karlsefin started as if in alarm, seized the brooch with both hands,
held it aloft, and gazed at it in a species of veneration, then,
clasping it to his breast, shook his head by way of an emphatic "No!"

Of course Whitepow became doubly anxious to have it; whereupon Karlsefin
again stooped, and, placing his hand about two feet from the ground,
patted the top of the thing indicated, and said that he might have the
brooch for _that_ and the other things previously referred to.

Whitepow pondered a few minutes, and Utway said something very seriously
to him, which resulted in his giving an order to two of his chiefs, who
at once left the group.  They quickly returned, leading Hake and the
children between them--the former being still bound at the elbows.

There was something quite startling in the shout of surprise that Olaf
gave on observing Karlsefin.  It was only equalled by the shriek of glee
that burst from Snorro when he recognised his father.

Olaf instantly seized Snorro and ran towards him.  Karlsefin met them
more than half-way, and, with an expression of deep thankfulness, caught
up his little one and strained him to his heart, while Olaf tightly
embraced his leg!

But, recollecting himself instantly, he set Snorro down, removed the
silver brooch from his neck and placed it in the hand of the old chief.
At the same time he pointed to Hake's bonds.  Whitepow understood him,
and, drawing his stone knife, cut these asunder.

"Make no haste, Hake," said his leader, "but take Snorro in your arms
and Olaf by the hand, and walk _slowly_ but steadily towards your
comrades.  If any one offers to intercept you, resist not, but turn and
come back hither."

Hake made no reply, but did as he was bid, and was soon in the midst of
his comrades.  Meanwhile Karlsefin, whose joy almost prevented him from
maintaining the dignity that was appropriate to the occasion, took off
every scrap in the shape of ornament that he possessed and presented all
to Whitepow, even to the last bauble in the bottom of his wallet, and he
tried to make the old man understand that all his men had things of a
similar kind to bestow, which would be brought to him if he would order
the great mass of his people to retire to a considerable distance,
retaining only about his person a party equal in numbers to the
Norsemen.

To this the chief seemed inclined to object at first, but again Utway's
eloquence and urgency prevailed.  The old man stood up, shouted an order
in the voice of a Stentor, and waved his hand.  The whole multitude at
once fell back to a considerable distance, leaving only a few of the
principal men around their chief.

The active Scot instantly bounded towards him--not less with desire to
serve his deliverer than with delight at finding himself once more free!

"Go back, Hake, and tell the men to come quietly hither in a compact
body, leaving their bows and spears behind them, only carrying each man
his sword and shield.  Let a strong guard stay with the weapons and the
children, and see that Biarne and Thorward also remain with them.
Quietly place the children in a canoe, and do you and Heika stand ready
to man it."

"That has already been done," said Hake.

"By whose orders?" demanded Karlsefin.

"At my suggestion," replied Hake.

"Thou art a wise man, Hake.  I thank thee.  Go; I need not explain that
two canoes at least would require to accompany you, so as to repel
attack by water, and, if it be necessary, to flee, while we guard the
retreat."

"That has already been arranged," said Hake.

"Good, good.  Then, whatever betide us, the dear children are like to be
safe.  Get you gone, Hake; and, harkee, if _we_ should not return, be
sure thou bear my love to Gudrid.--Away."

Hake bowed in silence and retired.  In a few minutes the greater part of
the Norsemen stood before the old chief, and, by Karlsefin's command,
every man who chanced to have any trifling ornament of any kind about
him took it off and presented it to the savages.

Whitepow, in return, ordered a package of furs to be brought, and
presented each man with a beautiful sable.  Karlsefin then made Utway
explain that he had seen much valuable cloth and many ornaments in the
Norsemen's camp, and that these would be given in exchange for such
furs,--a piece of news which seemed to gratify the savages, for they
possessed an immense number of furs, which were comparatively of little
value to them.

Thus amicable relations were established; but when Whitepow invited the
Norsemen to accompany him to his village and feast, Karlsefin intimated
that he intended to sup and pass the night on the spit of sand, and that
in the early morning he would return to his home, whither he hoped the
savages would soon follow him with their furs.  That, meanwhile, a small
number might accompany him, if they chose, to view his habitation and
take back a report.  This was agreed to, and thus happily the
conferences ended.

That night the Norsemen held high carousal on the spit of sand, partly
because they were rejoiced at the successful issue of the expedition as
far as it had gone, and partly because they wished to display a
free-and-easy spirit to the savages.  They drew a line at the narrowest
part of the neck of land, and there posted armed sentinels, who
resolutely refused to let any one pass.  On the outward edge of the
spit, other sentinels were placed, who checked all tendency to approach
by water, and who--in one or two instances, when some obstinate natives
attempted to force a landing--overturned the canoes and left the
occupants to swim ashore the best way they could.

The only exception to this rule was made in favour of Utway and
Whitepow, with the grandson of the latter, little Powlet.  These three
came down to the spit after the Norsemen had kindled a magnificent
bonfire of dry logs, round which they sat and ate their supper, told
sagas, sang songs, cracked jokes, and drank to absent friends in cans of
pure water, with an amount of dash, fervour, and uproarious laughter
that evidently raised quite a new idea in the savage minds, and filled
them with amazement unutterable, but not inexpressible, for their
glaring eyes, and lengthened jaws, and open mouths were the material
embodiment of surprise.  In fact, the entire population sat on the
surrounding banks and heights nearly the whole night, with their hands
and chins resting on their knees, listening and gazing in silent
admiration at the proceedings of the Norsemen, as a vast audience might
witness the entertainments of an amphitheatre.

The utmost hospitality was of course extended by the Norsemen to their
three visitors, who partook of the food set before them with much
relish.  Fortunately some of the men who had been left to guard the arms
still possessed a few trinkets and pieces of bright cloth, so that
Karlsefin was again enabled to gratify his new friends with a few more
presents.

"Snorro," said Karlsefin, who sat beside Whitepow in front of the fire
with the child on his knee, "are you glad to see your father again?"

"Iss," said Snorro, responding _slightly_ to the tender embrace which he
received.

We are afraid that truth requires us to state, that Snorro had not quite
reached the age of reciprocal attachment--at least in regard to men.  Of
course we do not pretend to know anything about the mysterious feelings
which he was reported to entertain towards his mother and nurse!  All we
can say is, that up to this point in his history the affections of that
first-born of Vinland appeared to centre chiefly in his stomach--who fed
him best he loved most!  It is but simple justice to add, however, that
Olaf was, in Snorro's eye, an exception to the rule.  We really believe
that if Olaf had starved and beaten him during the first half of a day,
by way of experiment, Snorro would have clung to him and loved him
throughout the other half!

"Come hither, Olaf, take this bit of cloth in your hand, and present it
to that little boy," said Karlsefin, pointing to Powlet.  "He seems fond
of Snorro, and deserves something."

"Fond of him!" exclaimed Olaf, laughing, as he presented the cloth
according to orders, and then returned to Snorro's side.  "You should
have seen the way he made Snorro laugh one day by painting my face."

Here Olaf went into a minute account of the operation referred to, and
told it with so much humour that the Norsemen threw back their wild
heads and shook their shaggy beards in fits of uproarious laughter,
which awakened the echoes of the opposite cliffs, and caused the natives
to think, no doubt, that the very rocks were merry.

After this Krake told a story and sang a rollicking song, and of course
Hake was made to sing, which he readily did, giving them one of his
native airs with such deep pathos, that the very savages--unused though
they were to music--could not refrain from venting a murmur of
admiration, which rose on the night air like a mysterious throb from the
hearts of the dark concourse.

Immediately after Hake's song the old chief and his friends took their
leave.  The sentinels were now changed and doubled, the fire was
extinguished, each Norseman lay down with his hand on his sword-hilt,
and his shield above him, and the vast multitude of savages melted away
to their respective places of repose.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE BURNING ON THE FORTRESS--A THREATENED FIGHT ENDS IN A FEAST, WHICH
LEADS TO FRIENDSHIP--HAPPY REUNION AND PROPOSED DESERTION.

Next morning, according to arrangement, the Norsemen were up and away by
daybreak; but they did not start off alone.  A much larger fleet than
they had bargained for accompanied them.  Karlsefin, however, made no
objection, partly because objection would have been unavailing, and
partly because the natives were so genuinely well-disposed towards him,
that he felt assured there was no reason to distrust them or to fear
their numbers.

Little did Karlsefin think, as they proceeded happily and leisurely down
the stream at that time, the urgent need there was for haste, or the
dire extremity to which his friends at Leifsgaard had been reduced.
Knowing, of course, nothing about this, they descended by easy stages
and encamped in good time at night, in order to have their fires lighted
and food cooked before daylight had quite disappeared, so that they
might have the more time to sit chatting by the light of the camp-fires
and enjoying the fine summer weather.

On the other hand, had Leif only known how soon his friends were to
return, he might have held the fortress longer than he did, by
continuing his desperate sallies to check the raising of the pile that
was meant to burn him out; but not being aware of this, and finding that
the necessity for constant vigilance and frequent sallies was wearing
out his men, he resolved to abandon the castle to its fate and take to
the ship.

Watching his opportunity, he had everything portable collected, and,
during the darkest hour of a dark night, quietly issued from the little
fortress, descended to the beach, and got on board the _Snake_, with all
the women and men, without the savages being aware of the movement.

Once on board, he fortified the vessel as well as he could, and hung the
shields round the bulwarks.

Curiously enough, the savages had fixed on that very night for setting
fire to their pile of timber, which by that time towered to a height
that made it almost equal to the fortress it was about to consume.  At
grey dawn the torch was applied to it.  At the very same hour Karlsefin
and his men, accompanied by their savage friends, launched their canoes
and left the encampment of the previous night.

The leader of the fleet had purposely encamped when not very far from
the settlement, preferring, with such a large and unexpected party,
rather to arrive in the morning than at night.

Great then was the surprise of the Norsemen when, soon after starting,
they saw a dense cloud of smoke rising in the far distance, and deep was
their anxiety when they observed that this cloud not only spread abroad
and increased in density, but appeared to float exactly over the place
where the settlement lay.

"Give way, lads! push on!  There is something wrong at the gaard,"
shouted Karlsefin when he became thoroughly alive to the fact.

There was little necessity for urging the men.  Each man became an
impulsive volcano and drove his paddle into the water with such force
and fury that the canoes almost leaped out of the river as well as over
it.

Meanwhile the sun rose in splendour, and with it rose the mighty flames
of the bonfire, which soon caught the neighbouring trees and licked them
up as if they had been stubble.  Such intense heat could not be long
withstood.  The wooden fortress was soon in flames, and then arose a
yell of triumph from the savages, which sent dismay to the hearts of
those who were approaching, and overawed the little band that still lay
undiscovered on board the _Snake_.

But when it was ascertained that there was no one in the fortress, a cry
of fury followed the shout of triumph, and the whole band, at once
suspecting that their enemies had taken to their vessel, rushed down to
the shores of the lake.

There they found the Norsemen ready to receive them; but they found more
than they had expected, for, just then, Karlsefin and his men swept
round the point above the bay with a tremendous cheer, and were followed
by a continuous stream of the canoes of their savage friends whom they
had outstripped in the mad race.

Karlsefin did not wait to ascertain how affairs stood.  Enough for him
that the village seemed to be in flames.  Observing, as he passed, that
his comrades and the women were safe on board the _Snake_, he ran the
canoes high and dry on the beach and leaped ashore.  Drawing quickly up
into a compact line, the Norsemen rushed with wild shout upon the foe.
The natives did not await the onset.  Surprise alone had kept them
waiting there as long as they did.  With one consent, and a hideous
yell, they turned and fled like autumn leaves before the wind.

Returning to the friendly savages, who had looked on at all this in some
surprise and with no little concern, Karlsefin looked very sternly at
them, pointed to the woods into which his enemies had vanished, shook
his fist, and otherwise attempted by signs to indicate his displeasure,
and to advise the instant interference of the friendly savages in the
way of bringing about peaceful relations.

The natives were intelligent enough and prompt in action.  A party of
them at once started off to the woods, while Karlsefin went on board the
_Snake_, where he found Leif and his friends right glad to meet him, and
the women, in a state of the wildest delight, almost devouring Olaf and
Snorro, who had been sent direct to the vessel when the men landed to
attack the savages.

"'Tis good for the eyes to see thy sweet face, Gudrid," he said, giving
his wife a hearty kiss, "and I am quite sure that Snorro agrees with me
in that."

"He does, he does," cried Gudrid, hugging the child, who clung round her
neck with a tenacity that he had never before exhibited, having learned,
no doubt, that "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

"Oh!  I am so happy, and so thankful.  My sweet bairn!  Where did you
find him?  How did you rescue him?  I felt _sure_ you would do it.  How
did he look when he saw you? and--"

"Hold, Gudrid," cried Karlsefin, laughing, "joy has upset thy judgment.
I can answer but one question at a time."

Gudrid made no reply; indeed she did not seem to expect an answer to her
queries, for she had turned again to Snorro and Olaf, whom she
overwhelmed with embraces, endearing epithets, and questions, in all
which she was ably assisted by Bertha, Astrid, and Thora.  Even
Freydissa became soft for once; kissed Olaf and Snorro several times in
a passionate manner, and was unusually gracious to Thorward.

"Ye came in the nick of time," said Leif, as he and his friends retired
to the poop for a brief consultation.

"So it would seem," said Biarne, "but it was more by good fortune than
good planning, for I left you weak-handed; and if good luck had not
brought us here just at the time we did, methinks there would have been
heavy hearts among us."

"A higher Power than good luck brought us hither in time," said
Karlsefin.

"That is true," said Leif, with a nod and an earnest look at his friend.

"I doubt it not," returned Biarne, "and the same Power doubtless led me
to start off with a reinforcement in time to help you in the hour of
need, Karlsefin.  But it is my advice now that we go ashore and put the
huts in a state of defence as quickly as may be."

"That is just my opinion," replied Karlsefin, "for it may be that the
friendly natives will find it easier to be converted into foes than to
turn our enemies into friends.  What is your advice, Leif?"

"That we land and do as Biarne suggests without delay."

"And what if these villains come down in such overwhelming numbers--as
they now can easily do--that they shall carry all before them and drive
us into the lake?" asked Thorward.

"Why, man," cried Biarne, with a touch of ire, "if I did not know thee
well I would say that thou wert timid."

"Knowing me well; then, as ye say," returned Thorward, "and reserving
the matter of timidity for future discussion, what reply have ye to make
to my question?"

"That we must make up our minds to be drowned, like Freydissa's cat,"
replied Biarne.

"Nay, not quite that," said Leif, with a smile; "we can at least have
the comfort of leaving our bones on the land to mingle with those of as
many savages as we can slay."

"The thought of that would prove a great comfort to the women, no doubt,
when they were carried off by the savages," returned Thorward, with a
touch of sarcasm in his tone.

"I see what you mean," said Karlsefin; "that we should have the _Snake_
ready to fall back on if we chance to be beaten; but, to say truth, the
idea of being beaten by such miserable savages never entered my head."

"The consideration of your head's thickness, then," said Thorward,
"would be an additional element of comfort, no doubt, to the women in
case of things going against us."

At this Karlsefin laughed, and asked Thorward what he would advise.

"My advice is," said he, "that we not only get the _Snake_ ready for a
long voyage, but that we haul round my ship also,--which by good fortune
is here just now--and get her ready.  There is no need to put our goods
and chattels on board, for if things went ill with us we could no doubt
keep the savages at bay long enough to accomplish that by means of
placing Biarne at the post of danger with orders to die rather than give
in; but I would leave the women and children on board at any rate to
keep them out of harm's way--"

"And it is _my_ advice," cried Freydissa, coming up at the moment, "that
ye set about it at once without more talk, else the women and children
will have to set you the example."

There was a general laugh at the tone and manner in which this was said,
and the four chiefs left the poop to carry out their plans.  Meanwhile
an immense concourse of natives assembled on the neighbouring heights,
and for a long time carried on a discussion, which, to judge from the
violence of their gesticulations, must have been pretty hot.  At last
their meeting came to an abrupt close, and a large band was seen to
separate from the rest and move down towards the hamlet.

Before they reached it the Norsemen had manned the defences and awaited
them.

"They come on a peaceful errand, I think," said Karlsefin, who stood at
the principal opening.  "At least it seems to me that they carry no
arms.  What say you, Hake?  Your eyes are sharp."

"They are unarmed," replied Hake.

This was found to be the case; and when they had approached to within a
long bow-shot of the defences, all doubt as to their intention was
removed by their holding up their hands and making other peaceful
demonstrations.

Judging it wise to meet such advances promptly and without suspicion,
Karlsefin at once selected a number of his stoutest men, and causing
them to lay aside their arms, issued forth to meet the savages.  There
was, as on a former occasion, a great deal of gesticulation and talking
with the eyes, the upshot of which was, that the brown men and the white
men vowed eternal friendship, and agreed to inaugurate the happy
commencement thereof with a feast--a sort of picnic on a grand scale--in
which food was to be supplied by both parties, arms were to be left at
home on both sides, and the scene of operations was to be a plot of open
ground near to, but outside, the hamlet.

It is easy to record all this briefly, but it must not therefore be
supposed that it was easy of arrangement, on the part of the high
contracting parties, whose tongues were unavoidably useless in the
consultation.

Krake proved himself to be the most eloquent speaker in sign-language,
and the manner in which he made his meaning intelligible to the savages
was worthy of philosophic study.  It is, however, quite beyond the
powers of description; a great deal of it consisting not only of signs
which might indeed be described, but of sounds--guttural and otherwise--
which could not be spelt.  We are constrained, therefore, to leave it to
the reader's imagination.

At the feast an immense quantity of venison and salmon was consumed, as
you may easily believe, and a great number of speeches were made by both
parties--the men of each side approving and applauding their own
speakers, and listening to those of the other side with as much
solemnity of attention as if they understood every word.

There were two points of great interest connected with this feast, which
we must not omit to mention.  One was, the unexpected arrival, in the
middle of it, of the old chief, Whitepow, in a canoe, with Utway and a
few of his principal men, and his grandson Powlet.  These were hailed by
both parties with great delight, because they formed an additional bond
of union between them.

It had been arranged by Karlsefin, for the sake of security, that the
savages and Norsemen should not intermingle, but that they should sit in
two distinct groups opposite to each other.  Whitepow, however, ignorant
of, or indifferent to such arrangements, passed over at once to the
Norsemen on his arrival, and went through the ceremony, which he had so
recently acquired, of shaking hands all round.  Powlet also followed his
example, and so did Utway.  They then sat down, and the latter did good
service in the cause of peace by making an enthusiastic speech, which
the Norsemen could see, from his pantomimic motions, related to his own
good treatment at their hands in time past.

Powlet also unwittingly aided in the same good cause, by running up to
Olaf and bestowing on him a variety of attentions, which were all
expressive of good-will and joy at meeting with him again.  He also
shouted the name of Snorro several times with great energy, but Olaf
could only reply by shaking his head and pointing towards the hamlet
where Snorro and the women had been left under a strong and trusty
guard.

The other point of interest to which we have alluded was, that a number
of the savages became particularly earnest and eager, when the eating
was concluded, in their endeavours to impress something on their new
friends, which they could not for a long time be made to understand even
by the most graphic and energetic signs.

"I fear, Krake, that you have eaten too much, or by some other means
have spoilt your powers of interpretation," said Leif with a laugh, as
the puzzled interpreter shook his head for the fifth time at an
energetic young savage with a red spot on his chin, and a blue stripe on
his nose, who had been gesticulating--we might almost say agonising--
before him for some time.

"'Tis beyond my powers entirely," said Krake.  "Try it again, Bluenose,"
he added, turning once more to the savage with resolute intensity of
concentration; "drive about your limbs and looks a little harder.  I'll
make ye out if it's in the power of man."

Thus adjured, the young savage opened his mouth wide, pointed with his
finger down his throat, then up at the sky, spread both hands abroad in
a vague manner, and exclaimed "ho!" as though to say, "that's plain
enough, surely!"

"Oh, for shame!  Is it eaten too much ye have?  Is that what ye want to
say?"

That was evidently not what he wanted to say, for the poor savage looked
round with quite a disconsolate aspect.

"Come hither, Powlet," cried Biarne; "you're a smart boy; see if you can
make the matter somewhat plainer."

Powlet at all events understood his name, and Biarne's beckoning finger,
for he rose and went to him.  Biarne confronted him with the young
savage, and told the two to talk with each other by means of signs,
which consisted in his touching the lips of both and thrusting their
heads together.

The young savage smiled intelligently and spoke to Powlet, who thereupon
turned to Biarne, and, rolling his eyes for a few seconds, uttered a low
wail.

"Sure it isn't pains you're troubled with?" asked Krake, in a voice of
pity.

"I do believe it must be that they refer to some one whom we have
wounded during the fight," suggested Leif, "and that they think we have
him concealed in the hamlet."

"It seems to me," said Thorward, "that if they were troubled about a
wounded or missing comrade, they would have asked for him sooner."

"That is true," replied Leif.  "I wish we knew what it is they would
communicate, for they appear to be very anxious about it."

As he spoke, a tall savage, with an unusually grave countenance, stalked
from among his fellows, thrust Powlet and the young man whom Krake had
styled Bluenose aside, and seated himself on the ground in imitation of
the free-and-easy manner of the Norsemen.  Suddenly his face lighted up.
He clapped both hands to his chest and breathed hard, then raised his
hands aloft, looked enthusiastically up at the sky, rolled his eyes in a
fearful manner, opened his mouth wide, and gave utterance to a series of
indescribable howls.  Checking himself in the midst of one of these, he
suddenly resumed his grave aspect, looked straight at Krake, and said
"Ho!"

That he thought he had hit the mark, and conveyed the meaning of himself
and his friends precisely, was made evident by the other savages, who
nodded their heads emphatically, and exclaimed "Ho!" with earnestness.

"H'm! 'tis easy to say `Ho!'" replied Krake, more perplexed than ever,
"and if `Ho' would be a satisfactory answer, I'd give ye as much as ye
liked of that; but I can't make head or tail of what it is ye would be
at."

"Stay," exclaimed Hake, stepping quickly forward, "I think I know what
they want."

Saying this, he looked earnestly at the grave savage, and ran over one
or two notes of a song.

No words in any language could convey such a powerful meaning as did the
beam of intelligence and delight which overspread the faces of these
sons of the wilderness.  The "ho! ho! hos!" and noddings were repeated
with such energy, that Krake advised them to "stop that, lest their
heads should come off altogether!"

"I thought so," said Hake, turning away from them; "they want you to
give them a song, Krake."

"They shall have that, and welcome," cried the jovial Norseman, striking
up the "Danish Kings" at once, with all the fire of his nature.

The natives sat in rapt solemnity, and when the Norsemen joined
laughingly in the chorus, they allowed a faint smile to play for a
moment on their faces, and murmured their satisfaction to each other
when the song was done.  But it was evident that they wanted something
more, for they did not seem quite satisfied until one of their number
rose, and going up to Hake touched his lips with his finger.

"Ha!  I thought so!" exclaimed Krake in contempt.  "It's bad taste ye
have to want a song from _him_ after hearing _me_!  But what else could
we expect from ye?"

Hake willingly complied with their wish, and it then became evident that
the savages had gained their point at last, for they listened with
half-closed eyes, and more than half-opened mouths, while he was
singing, and heaved a deep sigh when he had finished.

Thus pleasantly was the feast concluded, and thus they sealed their
friendship.

But there was something still more satisfactory in store for the
Norsemen, for it was soon afterwards discovered that the savages
possessed a large quantity of beautiful furs, with which, of course,
they were willing to part for the merest trifle, in the shape of a shred
of brilliant cloth or an ornamental bauble.

This was not only fortunate, as affording an opportunity for the
Norsemen to procure full and valuable cargoes for both their ships, but
as creating a busy and interesting occupation, which would prevent the
natives from growing weary of inaction, and, perhaps, falling into those
forms of mischief which proverbially lie ready to idle hands.

"It seems to me, friends," said Leif one evening, shortly after the
feast just described, while he was seated in the chief hall, polishing
his iron headpiece, and occasionally watching the active hands of Gudrid
and Thora as they busied themselves about domestic affairs, while Bertha
sat beside him dandling Snorro on her knee,--"It seems to me that we
have got together such a rich cargo that the sooner we send our ships to
Greenland the better.  They can then return with fresh supplies of such
things as are needed in good time.  For myself, I will go with the
ships, and overlook the loading of them in Greenland."

"Oh! may I go with you?" exclaimed Bertha, looking up suddenly with much
eagerness.

Hake, who was seated at the lower end of the hall, busily engaged in
making a bow, paused abruptly in his work, but did not raise his head.

"I have no objection, if Freydissa has none," answered Leif.

"Freydissa will be only too glad to get rid of her," replied that
amiable woman, who was engaged in the manufacture of a leathern tunic
for Snorro; "she is tired of milk-and-water."

"And yet milk-and-water is more likely to agree with you than anything
resembling beer," said Biarne, with a laugh.

"I should be sorry to leave Vinland," returned Bertha, "but I am very
_very_ anxious to see my dear father again.  Besides--I can return
hither."

Hake's hand was suddenly released, and resumed its occupation.

"If you go, Leif," asked Karlsefin, "will you return and spend the
winter with us?"

"I will not promise that," replied Leif with a smile.

There was silence for some minutes, which was broken at length by a very
small voice saying:--

"'Norro go to G'eenland too?"

Poor Snorro was as regardless of the _S_ in his own name as he was of
the _l_ in Olaf's!

"'Norro may go, if Gudrid will allow him," answered Leif, patting the
child's curly pate.

"And O'af too?" added Snorro.

"Of course _I_ must go if Snorrie goes," cried Olaf who had just entered
the hall.  "We could not live separate--could we, Snorrie?"  He caught
up the child and placed him on his back in his wonted fashion.  "Just
think," he continued, "what would it do in Greenland without O'af to
give it rides and take it out for long walks?"

"Ay, and go lost with it in the woods," added Biarne.

Olaf blushed, but replied promptly--"That would be impossible, Biarne,
for there are no woods in Greenland."

"If Snorro goes so must I," said Thora.  "He could not get on without
his nurse."

"Methinks we had better all go together to Greenland," said Astrid, who
was busy preparing supper.

"Not bad advice," observed Biarne, somewhat seriously.

"Do you mean what you say?" asked Karlsefin.

"I half mean it," replied Biarne.

There was a pause here.  Karlsefin then said--"It seems to me, friends,
that our minds are all jumping together.  I have thought for a long time
of leaving Vinland, for it is plain to me that as we stand just now we
cannot make much headway.  Many of our men are longing to get back to
their families, some to their sweethearts, and some to their native
land; while, from what you have said, it would seem that none of us are
very anxious to remain."

"Do not speak for _all_," said Thorward.

"Well, dost _thou_ wish to stay?"

"It may be that I do.  At any rate, we have had much trouble in coming
hither and settling ourselves, and it would be a pity to lose all our
labours unless we can't help it.  There may be others of my way of
thinking in the colony.  It is my advice that before we discuss such a
matter we had better call a Thing, [an assembly for discussion] and do
it in an orderly way."

"By all means," said Karlsefin, "let us discuss the matter for
_decision_ in a Thing; yet our discussing here for amusement is not
disorderly."

After a little more conversation it was finally arranged that a Thing,
or general assembly of the people, should be called on the following
day, to discuss and decide on the propriety of forsaking Vinland and
returning home.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE FIRST CONGRESS AND THE LAST FAREWELL.

At the gathering of the Vinland colonists next day a number of able
speeches were made by various individuals; for the Norsemen of old were
accustomed to the free discussion of public affairs, at a time when
nearly all Europe was crushed under the yoke of feudalism.  Some of the
speeches were humorous, and some had a good deal of sound about them
without much weight of matter--a peculiarity, by the way, which marks
many of the speeches made in the national and general assemblies of
mankind in the present day, not less, perhaps rather more, than in the
olden time.

All the men of the colony were entitled to raise their voices in the
council except the thralls, so that the brothers Hake and Heika took no
part in the discussion.  These two therefore held a private
confabulation of their own on the margin of the lake.

Thorward was among the first speakers at the assembly.

"It is my opinion," he said, in the tone of a man who expects to have
his opinion opposed, "that we have not yet given Vinland a fair trial.
We are only just beginning to discover the value of the land.  Ye know
now that it is not a small island, as was at first supposed, but a vast
country of unknown extent.  Who knows but that it may be as large as
Norway?  This lake and river on which we dwell do not owe their birth to
an insignificant country; any man with half the vision of one eye
remaining may see that!  The woods supply all that man can desire; the
waters swarm with fish; the climate is delightful; our ships are even
now loaded to the bulwarks with costly furs, and the natives are
friendly.  What would ye more?  It seems to me that we might, if we
chose, lay the foundation of a new nation that would rival Iceland,
perchance equal old Norway itself, if we take advantage of the great
opportunities that have fallen to our hands.  But if we get frightened
at the yell of every savage that makes his appearance, or grow weary of
good, vigorous, hard work, and begin to sigh like children for home,
then there is small chance of our doing anything, and it will doubtless
be the fate of a bolder race of men to people this land at some future
time."

There was a good deal of applause from some of the people when Thorward
finished this speech, which was uttered with great decision, but it was
observable that those who thought with him, though noisy, were not
numerous.

The moment Thorward sat down Krake started up and said somewhat
warmly--"'Tis all very well for Thorward to speak in this way, and ask
`What would ye more?' seeing that he has got in his house a handsome and
sweet-tempered wife; but I will tell him of _something more_ that I
want, and that I haven't got just now, and am not likely to get as long
as I remain in Vinland.  There is a comely little woman in Iceland, who
was born in that best of countries, Ireland, and who forsook the land,
and her father and mother, and kith and kin, all for the sake of a
red-headed thrall--for he was no better at that time--called Krake.
Now, _I_ want that sweet little Irishwoman!  Moreover, there's a stout
curly-headed boy in Iceland who's an elegant chip of the ancient tree,
and the born image of his mother--I want that curly-headed boy!  Then
there are six other curly-headed boys in Iceland--only that three of
them are girls, and the youngest had the curls in prospect when I saw it
last, bein' as bare on the head as the palm of my hand--all of them
descending in size, one after another, from the first curly-headed boy--
I want these.  Besides which there is a sweet little hut in Iceland at
the edge of a swamp, with the spouting waters not far off, and the
boilin' waters quite handy to cook your dinner without firin', and a
lovely prospect of the burnin' hill behind--I want all that; and I want
to know how Thorward would feel if he wanted all that and couldn't get
it, and was advised to go on wantin' it, and if he couldn't keep himself
easy, to try his best to keep as easy as he could!"

There was some laughter and great applause at this point.

"Moreover," continued Krake, with increasing energy, "it don't give me a
scrap of comfort to be told that this is a vast country, full of all
that's desirable and the best of livin', when I can't enjoy it along
with my sweet little Kathleen and the curly-headed boys and girls before
mentioned.  What does Krake care for stuffing his own ugly carcase full
when mayhap the wife and bairns are dyin' for want--anyhow dyin' to see
their husband an' father?  And what does Krake care to be the beginning
of a new nation?  No more than he does to be the middle of it, and if
left to himself he'd far sooner be the end of it by not beginning it at
all!  As for being frightened by the yells of savages, it's not worth my
while to mention _that_, but when Thorward talks about beginning to sigh
like children for home, he misses his mark entirely.  It's not _sighing_
I am for home, but roaring, bellowing, howling for it in my wearied
spirit, and it's my opinion, comrades, as I gaze round upon your
speaking faces, that there's a good many here howling along with me."

There could be no doubt that Krake's sentiments were largely entertained
and appreciated, for his speech was followed by prolonged and
enthusiastic applause, in which the Norsemen not only raised their
voices, but rattled their arms on their shields by way of emphasis.
Thorward smiled grimly and shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply.

After several others had spoken in various strains--a few in favour of
Thorward's opinion, but many more in sympathy with Krake,--Leif made a
short speech, advising immediate return to Greenland, Biarne followed
suit, and Karlsefin wound up with a few remarks, in which he urged,
among other things, that although the savages were friendly just then,
it was not likely they would remain so very long, and in the event of a
quarrel it was certain, considering their great numbers, that the infant
colony would be kept in perpetual hot water, if not actual warfare.  He
suggested, moreover, that the proper way to establish a colony, that
would have some chance to survive and flourish, would be to organise it
thoroughly in Iceland or Norway, and induce so many married men with
their families to emigrate, that they would be able to _feel_ at home in
the new land, and thus _wish_ to remain.  He concluded by saying that
those who now desired to remain in Vinland might join together and
devote their energies to the getting up of such a band of colonists if
so disposed.  For his own part, since the majority were evidently in
favour of returning home, he was free to confess that he had no taste
for colonising.  The ocean was _his_ home, and when that failed him he
hoped that God might permit him to end his days and lay his bones in
Iceland.

It was finally agreed that the country should be abandoned, and that,
having made up their minds, they should set about preparations without
delay.

We have said that the Scottish brothers had gone to the margin of the
lake to hold a little consultation by themselves, while the affairs of
the nation were being settled in the grand parliament.

"What think you?  Will these men of Iceland decide to return home or to
remain here?" said Hake, seating himself on a bank of wild-flowers,
which he began to pluck and scatter with an absent air.

"They will decide to forsake Vinland," answered Heika.

"You appear to be very sure, brother."

"I am; because I have been watching the men for some time past, and
occasionally leading them on to talk about the matter."

"Which way do you hope they will decide?" asked Hake.

"I hope they will leave."

"Do you?  For my part I care but little.  It seems to me that we have as
small a chance of escaping from Greenland as from this land."

"Brother, ye think in this way because you are content to remain where
Bertha dwells.  If Bertha were with Emma in bonny Scotland, your wits
would be sharp enough to perceive that the voyage from Vinland to
Scotland, with an unknown sea between, would be a more hazardous venture
than a voyage from Greenland to Scotland, with Iceland between."

"That may be true, brother, but methinks my wits are sharp enough to
perceive that neither voyage concerns us, seeing that we have no ship,
and are not likely to succeed in persuading a whale to carry us over."

"Nevertheless," replied Heika, "I mean to go over to Scotland this
summer if I can."

Hake looked earnestly in his brother's face.

"From your tones and words," said he, "I know that you have some plan in
your head."

"That have I," rejoined Heika firmly, yet with a look of
sadness.--"Listen, Hake: the thought that I shall never more see Emma or
my father is more than I can bear.  I will now make the effort to escape
from Greenland--for well assured am I that we shall soon be there
again--or die in the attempt.  Of what value is a thrall's life?  The
plan that I have in my head is this.  You know that when in Greenland we
were often sent out beyond the fiord to fish and to hunt the walrus and
the seal--sometimes in large, sometimes in small, boats.  The boats on
Eric's fiord are numerous now.  The absence of one for a time would not
be much noticed.  There is a man there whose life I saved not long
before we set sail for Vinland.  He has a good boat, which I will
borrow, take it round to the western skerries, to which our men seldom
go, and there quietly fit it out for a long voyage.  When a fitting time
arrives I will set sail for Scotland."

Hake shook his head.

"What wild thoughts are these, brother?  Who ever heard of a man
crossing the ocean in a small boat?"

"The thing may be done," replied Heika.  "It is risky, no doubt; but is
not everything more or less risky?  Besides, I had rather die than
remain in thraldom."

He paused, and Hake gazed at the ground in silence.

"I see," he continued sadly, "you do not like my project, and will not
aid me in the enterprise.  After all, how could I expect that you would
be willing to forsake Bertha and face so great a danger?"

Hake still continued to gaze in silence, and with a strangely perplexed
air, at the ground.

"Well, well, Hake," resumed the other, in a tone of reproach, "I did not
expect that ye would go with me on this venture, but truly I had counted
on your sympathy and counsel as well as your aid."

"Ye do wrong me," cried Hake, suddenly starting up and seizing his
brother's hand; "I not only sympathise with you, but I will go with you.
It is not easy all at once to make up one's mind on a point of such
importance.  Forsake Bertha I never will as long as one drop of Scottish
blood flows in my veins, for I know that she loves me, though her sense
of duty keeps her aloof--for which I love her all the more.
Nevertheless, I will leave her for a time.  I will make this venture
with you.  If we perish, we perish.  If we succeed I will return to
Greenland with a force that will either induce or compel the surrender
of my bride."

"Thou art a bold lover," said Heika, smiling.  "What! wilt thou carry
her off whether she will or no?"

"Not so; but I will carry her off whether Leif or Karlsefin, or Biarne
or Thorward, or all Greenland put together, will or no!"

"Nay, brother, that may not be.  It were the maddest venture of all.  I
will run this risk alone."

For some time the brothers disputed upon this point and held out against
each other pretty stoutly.  At length Heika reluctantly gave in, and it
was finally agreed that Hake should join him in the proposed attempt to
regain his liberty.

It did not take long to make the necessary arrangements for leaving
Vinland.  The little colony had not struck its roots very deeply into
the soil.  They were easily torn out without damage to the feelings of
any one, for little Snorro, as Krake said, was the only creature that
had to bid farewell to his _native_ land--always excepting some of the
cattle and chickens--and he was too young to take it much to heart.

In a few weeks the _Snake_, and Thorward's ship, the _Dragon_, were
loaded with everything that was of value in the colony, including much
even of the rude furniture of the huts.

Before leaving, Karlsefin resolved to give a last grand feast to the
savages.  He therefore called them together and explained, as he best
could, that he and his friends were going to leave them, but that
perhaps some of them might return again with large supplies of the gay
cloth and ornaments they were so fond of, and he recommended them in the
meantime to make as large a collection of furs as they could, in order
to be ready to trade when the white men returned.  He then spread before
them the most sumptuous feast the land could provide, including a large
quantity of dairy produce, which the savages regarded as the most
luxurious of fare.

After the feast he presented Whitepow, Utway, and Powlet with a large
quantity of bright-coloured cloth and a few silver and iron ornaments,
to be distributed among the members of the tribe as they should see fit
after helping themselves.  He also gave them a few cattle and domestic
fowls, after which, weighing anchors, putting out the oars, and hoisting
their sails, the Norsemen bade farewell to Leifsgaard.  As they swept
round the point which shut it out from view, they gave vent to one
vigorous parting cheer, which was replied to by the savages with a
feeble imitation and a waving of arms.

Dropping down the river, they passed the spit of sand where the first
night in Vinland had been spent so pleasantly; caught an offshore breeze
that carried them swiftly beyond the island betwixt which and the shore
they had captured the whale, and finally leaped out upon the swell of
the great ocean.

"Aha! now am I at home," exclaimed Karlsefin, with heightened colour and
sparkling eyes, as he stood at the helm, and glanced from the bulging
sail to the heaving swell, where Thorward's _Dragon_ was bending over to
the breeze about a cable's length to leeward,--"Now am I at home once
more!"

"So am not I," murmured poor Bertha, whose white face betrayed the
miserable emotions--or commotions--within.

All the women, we may remark, had expressed a desire to keep together
during the voyage, hence they had embarked in the _Snake_, which was a
better sea-boat than Thorward's vessel.

"Of course _you_ are not at home.  You are never contented or at home
anywhere!" cried Freydissa sharply.

Hake wished with all his heart that Bertha was at home in Scotland, and
that her home was his; and Snorro, who was seated on Olaf's knee, said--

"Never mind, Bert'a, oos be a tome soon."

There was a general laugh at this consolatory remark; even Bertha smiled
faintly as she patted Snorro's head, while Astrid and Thora--not to
mention Gudrid--agreed between themselves that he was the dearest,
sweetest, and in every way the most delightful Vinlander that had ever
been born.

"Of that there can be no doubt," said Leif, with a laugh, "since he is
the only white Vinlander that ever _was_ born."

But although the party assembled on the poop indulged at first in a few
humorous remarks, they soon became silent and sad, for they were fast
leaving behind them a spot which, with all its drawbacks, had been a
pleasant and happy home for upwards of three years.

As they stood leaning on the rails that guarded the poop, and gazed
regretfully on the lessening hills, each recalled many pleasant or
stirring incidents which had occurred there, incidents which would
remain--however far or long that land might be left behind--for ever
engraven on their memories.  And, long after twilight and distance had
concealed the coast from view, the Norsemen continued to strain their
vision towards the horizon, mentally bidding a long and last farewell to
Vinland.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

CHANGES IN BRATTALID--THE SCOTS CONTINUE TO PLOT AND PLAN.

Greenland again!  Flatface standing on the wharf at Brattalid; Anders
beside him; groups of Norse men, women, and children, and Skraelingers,
around and scattered along the bay.

What a commotion there was in the colony, to be sure, when it was
discovered that two large ships were sailing up the fiord; and what a
commotion it created in the breasts of those on board these ships when
it was discovered that two other large ships were already at anchor in
the harbour!

It is not necessary to detain the reader with the details of question
and reply, by which the truth was at last elicited on both sides.
Suffice it to say that the two ships were found to be merchant-vessels
from Iceland, and that, among other colonists, they had brought out
several men whose purpose was to teach and plant the new religion.
Already a small building had been set up, with a short tower on the
roof, which the Norsemen were told was a church, and in which some of
the services of the Christian religion were performed.  Elsewhere
several new houses had been built, and everywhere there were signs of
increasing population and prosperity.

Leif was half pleased, half disappointed at all this.  It was gratifying
to find things prospering so well, but it was not pleasant to see the
old place so greatly changed, and to have much of the old home-feeling
done away.

However, little was said on the subject.  The Vinland colonists were too
busy at first, meeting with relations and old companions, and being
introduced to new friends, to say or think much about the matter.  After
a few days they became reconciled to the change, and settled down into a
regular busy life.

One evening Heika went to the house of his friend Edwinsson, who owned
the boat that he wished to become possessed of.  He found that the man
was not at home, but there was a serving-woman in the house.

"Edwinsson no longer lives here," said the girl.  "He has gone to live
with old Haraldson and manage his boats, for the old man is not able for
that work now."

"Do you mean Bertha's father?" asked Heika.

"Yes; Haraldson is Bertha's father."

Heika went at once to search for his friend.  By the way he chanced to
meet with his brother.

"Come, Hake," said he, "I want you to go with me to find Edwinsson."

"With all my heart," said Hake.

They soon came to old Haraldson's house, which lay at the extreme west
of Brattalid; and when Heika opened the door, there he saw the old man
seated in a large chair, propped up with eider-down pillows.  Bertha was
seated on a stool at his feet holding one of his hands.

"Come in, Heika," she cried, springing up and hasting forward with
pleasure.  "I have been trying to tell dear father about the whale you
killed in Vinland."

She stopped abruptly on observing that Hake was behind his brother.
Recovering herself quickly, however, she welcomed him also with a slight
blush.

"I want you, Heika," she continued, "to tell the story to my father."

"Ay, sit down here, young man, and tell it me," said Haraldson, in a
tremulous voice.  "I love to hear anything about Vinland, especially
what pleases Bertha.  Dear Bertha!  I have become very frail since she
went away--very frail; and it has been a weary time--a weary time.  But
come, tell me about the whale."

"Gladly would I do that," said Heika; "but I have business with your man
Edwinsson--business which I want to put out of hands at once.  But Hake
will tell the story of the whale.  He is a better sagaman than I."

"Let Hake tell it, then," returned the old man.  "You will find
Edwinsson somewhere about among my boats."

Hake gladly sat down beside Bertha, and began the story of the whale,
while his brother went down to the beach, where he found his friend.

"Edwinsson," said Heika, after some conversation had passed between
them, "you have a good boat near Leif's wharf.  Will you lend it to me?"

"Right willingly," replied his friend.

"But I am bound on an excursion that may chance to end in the wreck of
the boat," said Heika.  "Will you hold me responsible if I lose it?"

"'Twill be difficult to hold thee responsible," returned Edwinsson,
laughing, "if ye lose your life along with it.  But that matters not.  I
gift thee the boat if thou wilt have it.  I count it a small gift to the
man who saved my life."

"Thanks, Edwinsson--thanks.  I accept the gift, and, if my venture is
successful, I shall try to let you share the benefit in some way or
other."

"Hast discovered a new fishing-ground, Heika?  What venture do ye
intend?" asked the other.

"That I will keep secret just now," said Heika, laughing carelessly.  "I
don't want to be followed at first.  Ye shall know all about it soon.
But hearken, friend, make no mention of it.  One does not like to be
laughed at if one fails, you know."

So saying, Heika went off to Leif's wharf, loosed the boat which he
found there, hoisted the sail, and dropped down with the tide to the
mouth of the fiord.  Here a light breeze was blowing, under the
influence of which he soon ran round the point of land that divided
Ericsfiord from Heriulfness.  In the course of another hour he reached
the western skerries.

The skerries or islets in question were little better than bare rocks,
which lay about fifty yards from the mainland, along which they formed a
sort of breakwater for a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile.  Within
this breakwater there were several narrow and well-sheltered inlets.
Into one of these Heika ran his boat, and made it fast in a place which
was so well overshadowed by rocks, that the boat could neither be seen
from the land nor from the sea.

On the landward side this inlet could be reached by a path, which,
though it appeared somewhat rugged, was nevertheless easy to traverse.
Up this path Heika hastened after making the boat fast, intending to
return to Brattalid by land.  The distance over land was much shorter
than by water, so that he could soon reach Leif's house, and his brief
absence would attract no attention.

Just as the Scot issued from behind the rocks which concealed the path
to the inlet, he was suddenly bereft almost of the power to move by the
unexpected sight of Leif himself advancing towards him!

Poor Heika's heart died within him.  He felt that all his long-cherished
and deeply-laid plans were crushed, just as they were about to be
carried into effect, and a feeling of fierce despair prompted him, for a
moment, to commit some wild deed of violence, but he observed that
Leif's head was bent forward and his eyes rested on the ground, as he
advanced slowly, like one who meditates.  Heika drew swiftly back behind
the rock, from the shelter of which he had barely passed, and breathed
freely again when Leif passed by, without showing any symptom of having
observed him.  Waiting till he had sauntered beyond the next turn in the
path, he started at his utmost speed, and was soon beyond the reach of
Leif's eyes, and back in Brattalid with a relieved mind.

Had the Scot waited to observe the motions of his master after passing
the turn in the path above mentioned, he would not have experienced so
much mental relief; for no sooner had Leif got behind a small but thick
bush than he turned abruptly, raised his head with an intelligent smile,
lay down behind the bush, and looked quietly through its foliage.  He
saw Heika issue from behind the rock, observed his cautious glances from
side to side, and, with something like a chuckle, witnessed his rapid
flight in the direction of the settlement.

"Hem! something i' the wind," muttered Leif, rising and walking towards
the spot whence his thrall had issued.

He found the rugged path, descended to the inlet, discovered the boat,
and stood looking at it with a perplexed air for full ten minutes.
Thereafter he shook his head once or twice, smiled in a grave manner,
and slowly sauntered home absorbed in meditation.

"Hake," whispered Heika to his brother that night, as they sat down
together in the little sleeping-closet off Leif's hall, that had been
allotted to their use, "all my hopes and plans were on the point of
being ruined to-day."

"Ruined! brother.  How was that?"

Heika related to him all that had occurred at the inlet near the western
skerries.

"Art thou sure he saw thee not?" asked Hake earnestly.

"There can be no doubt of that," replied Heika, "for he had no cause to
suspect that anything was wrong; and if he had seen me as I first stood
before him, motionless with surprise, he would doubtless have hailed me.
No, no; something was working very hard in his brain, for he passed on
without the least sign of having seen me."

"That is well, brother, yet I do not feel easy, for it is well-known
that Leif is a shrewd man, with great command over his feelings.  But
now, tell me how best I shall aid you in this enterprise."

"That is best done by using your bow well, for we shall require a large
supply of dried meat for the voyage, and we must work diligently as well
as secretly during our few hours of leisure, if we would get ready in
time to sail before the rough winds of autumn set in.  There are some
tight casks in Leif's old store which I mean to take possession of, at
the last, for water.  Our service will more than pay for these and any
other trifles we may find it needful to appropriate."

Hake thought in his heart that the enterprise was a wild and foolish
one, but, having promised to engage in it, he resolved not to cast the
slightest hindrance in the way, or to say a single word of
discouragement.  He therefore approved of all that Heika suggested, and
said that he would give his aid most vigorously.

"Moreover," he continued, "I have had some consolation to-day which will
spur me on, for I have got Bertha to admit that she loves me, and to
promise that if I can obtain my freedom she will wed me.  She even gave
me to understand that she would wed me as a thrall, if only Leif and
Karlsefin would give their consent.  But that shall not be.  Bertha
shall never be a thrall's bride.  I will return and claim her, as I have
said."

Heika made no reply, but continued to gaze at the floor in silence.

"Methinks ye are perplexed by something, brother," said Hake.

"I am thinking," replied Heika, "that it is a pity we cannot use those
curious marks made on skins, wherewith, we are told, men can communicate
one with another when they are absent from each other."

"What causes the regret just now?"

"I grudge to quit Leif without a parting word," returned Heika, looking
at his brother with peculiar earnestness; "it seems so ungrateful, so
unkind to one who has ever treated us well."

"I think with you in that, brother," said Hake.

"It would be so easy too," continued Heika, "to have some method of
letting him know what I think, if we could only agree about the signs or
signals beforehand."

Hake laughed softly.

"That would not be easy; for we could scarcely go to him and say, `Leif,
when you see these particular marks on a certain stone, you are to
understand that we take leave of you for ever with hearty good-will!'  I
fear that his suspicions might be aroused thereby."

"Nay, but I only express regret that we have not some such mode of
intercourse," returned Heika, smiling.  "Ye know the sign of the split
arrow which tells of war.  Why might we not multiply such signs?  For
instance, _by laying a billet of firewood across a man's bed_, one might
signify that he bade him farewell with tender affection and goodwill!"

"Why, brother," said Hake, laughing, "ye look at me as earnestly as if
you had said something smart; whereas I regard your idea as but a clumsy
one.  A billet of wood laid across your friend's bed might more fitly
suggest that you wanted to knock out his brains, or damage his skin, or
burn him alive!"

Heika laughed heartily, and said that he feared he had nothing of the
spirit of the skald about him, and that his power of invention was not
great.

"But I have more news to give thee, brother, besides that regarding
Bertha," said Hake.  "Do you know there is a countryman of ours on board
of one of the ships that brought out the men of the new religion, and he
has but lately seen our father and Emma?"

Heika started and laid his hand on his brother's arm, while he gazed
earnestly into his face.

"It is ill jesting on such a subject," he said somewhat sternly.

"So think I, brother; therefore I recommend you not to jest," returned
Hake gravely.

"Nay, but is it true?"

"Ay, true as that the sky is over our heads.  I have had a long talk
with him, and when he found I was a countryman he gave me a hug that
made my ribs bend.  His name is Sawneysson, a very giant of a man, with
hair that might have grown on the back of a Greenland bear, only that it
is red instead of white.  He told me that he knew our father well by
sight, and last saw him taking a ramble on Dunedin hill, whither he had
walked from our village on the Forth, which shows that the old man's
vigour has improved.  Emma was with him too, so Sawneysson said, looking
beautiful, but somewhat sad."

"How knew he her name?" asked Heika.

"He knew it not," replied Hake.  "He did but say that a fair maiden
walked with our father, and I knew at once from his description that it
was Emma.  But you can inquire for yourself at his own mouth, for this
countryman of ours is an enthusiastic fellow, and fond of talking about
home."

"Brother," said Heika, with a sad but earnest look, "I must give this
man the cold shoulder."

"Nay, then, disappointment must have changed thee much," said Hake, in
surprise, "for that is the last thing I had expected thee to say."

"It is not disappointment but caution that makes me speak and think as I
do.  If we seem to be too eager about our native land it may tend to
make Leif more watchful of us, which of all things would be the greatest
misfortune that could befall us just at this time."

"There is something in that," returned Hake; "but will it not suffice to
exercise a little caution and self-restraint, without giving our
countryman the cold shoulder?"

"I know not," replied Heika, with a troubled air; "but I would that he
had not turned up just now, though I confess it gladdens me to hear of
our father and Emma.--Now, Hake, we must to bed if we would be up
betimes to secure a little leisure for the carrying out of our
enterprise."

Without further conversation the brothers threw off their coats and
shoes, and lay down together with the rest of their clothing on, so as
to be ready for an early start.  The shield and helmet of each hung on
the wall just over the bed, and their two swords leaned against the bed
itself, within reach of their hands, for thus guardedly did men deem it
necessary to take their rest in the warlike days of old.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

DISAPPOINTMENT TERMINATES IN UNLOOKED-FOR SUCCESS, AND THE SAGA COMES TO
AN END.

During some weeks after the events narrated in the last chapter, the
Scottish brothers continued quietly, stealthily, and steadily to collect
provisions and all things necessary for the projected voyage across the
Atlantic.

During the same period the general business of the settlement was
prosecuted with activity.  The Christian missionaries not only
instructed the people in the new faith, and baptised those that
believed, but assisted and guided them in the building of huts and
houses, the planning of wharves and the laying out of townships; [see
Note at end of Chapter] while the crews of the two recently arrived
ships, having found it necessary to make up their minds to winter in
Greenland, busied themselves in collecting fats, oil, skins, feathers,
etcetera, to be packed and got ready for shipment in the following
spring.

Karlsefin also made preparations for a voyage in spring to Iceland, and
Thorward, Biarne, Krake, and the other Vinland heroes assisted in that
work, or in some other of the multifarious duties that had to be
attended to in the colony, while Olaf undertook the responsible duty of
superintending the education, mental and physical, of that rampant
little Vinlander, Snorro, the son of Karlsefin.

Leif Ericsson exercised a sort of general superintendence of the whole
colony.  It seemed to be tacitly agreed on and admitted that he was the
national chief or governor, and as no one was disposed to dispute his
claim to that position all was peace and harmony.

Nevertheless there was something unusual in Leif's manner at that time
which rather perplexed his friends, and quite puzzled Anders, his
major-domo.

That free and easy individual could not understand the dreamy moods into
which his master fell, still less could he comprehend the gleams of
quiet humour and expressions of intense seriousness, with other
contradictory appearances, which occasionally manifested themselves in
Leif's visage and demeanour.  It was plain that there was much on his
mind, and that much of that was gay as well as grave.  Anders made
several attempts to find out what was the matter, but was met at one
time with grave evasion, at another with quiet jocularity, which left
him as wise as before.

Towards the Scottish brothers Leif maintained an unvarying aspect of
reserve, which filled them with uneasiness; but with the female members
of his household, and the children, he was all gentleness, and often
playful.

"Leif," said Karlsefin to him one day, "it appears to me that something
weighs on your mind, or else ye have left some of your wits in Vinland."

"Think ye not that the cares of such a large and growing colony are
sufficient to account for any new wrinkles that may appear on my brow?"
replied Leif, with a peculiar smile, and a glance from the corner of his
eye.

"Well, I daresay that might account for it, and yet things are swimming
on so well that these cares do not seem to be much increased."

"Sometimes domestic cares trouble a man more than public ones,
Karlsefin.  Look at thy friend Thorward, now.  'Tis little that he would
care for a mountain of outside troubles on his broad shoulders if he
might only drop them when he crossed the threshold of his own door."

"That is true," returned the other; "if a man have not peace in his own
house, there is no peace for him on earth.  Nevertheless my friend
Thorward is not in such a bad case.  Freydissa has improved vastly of
late, and Thorward has also grown more amiable and less contradictions--
add to which, he and she love each other dearly.  But, Leif, there can
be no domestic troubles in your case, for your household is well
ordered."

"Thank God there are none," said Leif seriously.  It was the first time
that Leif had used that expression, and his friend heard it with some
surprise and pleasure, but said nothing.

"Still," continued Leif, "I am not destitute of troubles.  Has not that
thrall Hake overturned the peace of my sweet kinswoman Bertha?  The girl
loves the thrall--I can see that, as plain as I can see the vane on
yonder mast-head--and there is no cure for love!"

Karlsefin looked earnestly at his friend as if about to speak, but
observing the stern frown on Leif's countenance, he forbore.

In a minute or so Karlsefin remarked quietly that Hake was a faithful
thrall.

"I'm not so sure of that as ye seem to be," returned Leif, with
increasing sternness, "but, whether faithful or not, no thrall shall
ever wed Bertha."

"What is that you say about Bertha?" asked Biarne, coming up just then.

"Nothing of moment," replied Leif.  "What news bring you, Biarne? for
that ye bring news is plain by the glance of your eye."

"My eye is an incorrigible tell-tale," cried Biarne, laughing.
"However, it has not much to tell at present.  Only that you are about
to receive a visit from some old friends, and that Anders will have to
keep his kettles full for some time to come.  A band of Skraelingers
are--.  But here they come to speak for themselves."

At that moment a troop of the Greenland savages came round the point--
the identical point where they had received such a terrible shock some
years before--with Flatface dancing joyously in front of them.

Flatface had heard of their coming, had gone out to meet them, had found
several of his relations among them, and was now returning, scarce able
to contain himself with delight, as he made their mouths water by
dilating at great length on the delicious things contained in Anders's
capacious kettles.

While Leif and the others went to meet the Skraelingers, Heika and his
brother sat in their own sleeping-closet, talking in a low tone, and
making the final arrangements for their flight.

"Now are ye sure that all is on board--nothing omitted?" asked Hake,
"for it will be hard to obtain anything once we are out on the sea, and
we can't well return to fetch what we have forgotten."

"All is ready," answered Heika sadly.  "I cannot tell how much it
grieves me to go away in this fashion; but freedom must be regained at
any price.  Now remember, meet me exactly when the moon shows its upper
edge above the sea to-night.  Not later, and not sooner, for the longer
ye can remain about the hall the less likely will any one be to inquire
after _me_."

"I will be sure not to fail you; but, Heika, is that not a little too
late?  The flood-tide will be past, and if there is any sea on, it will
be ill passing the skerries, many of which are but little covered, even
at high water."

"Trust me, Hake; it will not be too late.  Be sure that ye come no
sooner--else evil may ensue."

"My heart sinks when I think of Bertha," said Hake, with a deep sigh.
"It will seem so cold, so hard, so unaccountable, to leave her without
one word, one farewell."

"Think better of it, brother," said Heika eagerly; "I am prepared to
start alone even now!"

"Never!" exclaimed Hake, flushing,--"What? shall I draw back like a
coward at the last moment, after pledging my word to go? and shall I
leave you to face this enterprise alone?  Nay, Heika, we have suffered
for many years together, we shall triumph now together--or perish."

"My poor brother," said Heika, grasping Hake's hand, and kissing it with
deep feeling.--"But go now to the hall, and leave me; I hear them laying
the tables for supper.  The window is easily removed; I will hasten at
once and get things ready.  Take good care not to re-enter this closet
after leaving it, for the carls are moving about the hall, and may
chance to observe that it is empty.  Be circumspect, brother."

They squeezed hands again, and Hake went into the hall, where he mingled
with the house-carls, and chatted carelessly about the events of the
day.

The instant he was gone Heika rose and removed the parchment window,
took a billet of firewood and laid it across the bed, then, leaping out,
he walked smartly towards the west end of the village.

It was beginning to grow dark, and few of the people were about.  To
those whom he passed Heika nodded familiarly, but did not stop.  The
moment he had rounded the cliff which hid Brattalid from view, he ran
westward at full speed.

Meanwhile supper was laid in the hall, and all were awaiting the
entrance of the master of the house and Karlsefin, but there was no
appearance of either.  After a quarter of an hour had passed, and they
were beginning to wonder what had become of them, the door opened and
Biarne entered, saying that Leif had sent him to say that as he had
business which would keep him out late, they were not to wait supper for
him.

Hake began to feel somewhat uneasy at this, and when supper was finished
he resolved to leave the house a little before the appointed time.  For
that purpose he entered the sleeping-closet, intending to pass out by
the window.

The first thing that caught his eye was the billet of firewood lying
_across the bed_!  His heart almost stood still at the sight, for this,
coupled with Heika's display of deep feeling, and their recent
conversation about signs, caused the truth to flash upon him.

With one bound he passed through the window and flew westward like the
wind-round the point, over the ridge, and down towards the appointed
rendezvous at the skerries.

But, to return to Heika.  When he neared the inlet he changed his pace
to a rapid walk, and glanced cautiously from side to side, to make quite
sure that he was not observed by any one who might chance to have
wandered in that direction.

Now, it is a well-known fact in the affairs of this world, that many
strange things occur in a most unaccountable manner.  Who can tell how
it was, or why it was that, just a few minutes before Heika approached
the inlet from the landward side, a small boat entered it from the
seaward side, out of which stepped Leif Ericsson and Karlsefin?  They
drew their boat into a corner in deep shadow, and then, going to another
corner, also in deep shadow, sat down on a ledge of rock without
uttering a single word.

They had never been in that inlet before; had never seen it, probably
never thought of it before, yet there they were, quietly seated in it--
and, just in the nick of time!

From the place where they sat neither their own boat nor Leif's could be
seen--only the landward opening of the inlet.

Presently approaching footsteps were heard.  The two friends rose.  A
moment later and Heika stood before them.  He stopped abruptly on
beholding them, and his eyes blazed with astonishment, rage, and
despair.  Suddenly he looked round as if in search of a weapon, or of a
way of escape.

"Be wise, lad," said Leif, kindly yet very gravely; "no evil will come
of it if ye are wise, and take your misfortunes like a man."

Heika was subdued by the gentle tone.  He crossed his arms on his
heaving chest, and stood erect before them with his head slightly
drooped, and a look of profound sadness, rather than disappointment, on
his countenance.

"Come hither, Heika," said Leif, pointing seaward, "I have somewhat to
show thee."

They went down the beach till they stood beside the boat, which was
ready for sea.

"This is a strange sight," he continued; "here is an excellent boat,
well found, well loaded, well busked in every way for a long voyage.
Knowest thou aught in regard to it, Heika?"

"I know," answered the Scot, bitterly, "that if ye had come hither only
half-an-hour later, that boat would have been on its way with me to
Scotland."

"What, with you _alone_?"

"Ay--with me alone."

"That is strange," said Leif, somewhat perplexed; "I had fancied that
you brothers loved each other passing well; but I suppose that a man who
can be guilty of ingratitude is not to be much depended on in the matter
of affection."

Heika winced at these words--not that the charge of ingratitude affected
him, but he could not submit calmly to the unjust supposition that in
his contemplated flight he had been actuated by selfish indifference to
his brother.  At the same time he would not condescend to give any
explanation of his conduct.  Drawing himself up, he looked Leif full in
the face.

"Norseman," he said, "small is the gratitude I owe to thee.  'Tis true,
ye have treated me and my brother kindly since we came hither, and for
that I owe thee thanks, and would gladly have paid this debt before
leaving, had such been consistent with flight; but kindness, however
great, is not a worthy price for liberty, and when King Olaf Tryggvisson
sent me to thee, I made no promise to sell my liberty at such a price.
But in regard to Hake--"

"Ay, in regard to Hake, go on; why dost thou stop?" said Leif, in a
stern tone.  "There is some truth in what ye say about gratitude; but
what of Hake?"

The Scot still remained silent, with his lips compressed, and dropped
his eyes sternly on the ground.

"This seems to me a bad business," said Karlsefin, who had hitherto
listened with an expression of anxiety and disappointment gradually
deepening on his countenance.  "I had thought better of thee, Heika.
Surely Hake's longing to be free and in his own native land must be to
the full as strong as thine.  I am puzzled, moreover, for two were
better than one in the mad voyage ye thought to undertake."

Heika smiled at this.

"Truly," he said, "my brother loves his native land and freedom,
nevertheless he prefers bondage to freedom, and Greenland to his native
land.  And yet would he fain have sacrificed his preference, and
resigned his bondage out of love to me, if I would have allowed him."

"Resigned his bondage, Heika!" exclaimed Leif.  "Ye speak in riddles,
man; what mean you?"

Instead of replying the Scot looked at Leif with an intelligent smile,
and held up his forefinger as if to call attention.  At the same moment
the sound as if of some one running at full speed was heard faintly in
the distance.

Leif and Karlsefin looked at the Scot in surprise.

"It is my brother," he said, sadly.

In a few seconds the steps were close at hand.  Leif seized Karlsefin by
the arm, and dragged him swiftly under the deep shadow of the cliffs
just as Hake came through the narrow opening with such a rush that on
seeing Heika he could not avoid plunging violently into his extended
arms.

"Was this right in thee, brother?" he cried, laying his hand on Heika's
shoulder, on recovering himself; "was it wise to treat me thus like a
child?"

"It was kindly meant," said Heika, much perplexed as to how he should
act in existing circumstances.

"Kindly meant!" exclaimed Hake, vehemently.  "Ay, well do I know that,
yet it was not wisely kind to forsake me after promising to take me with
you, when ye knew that I did but leave Bertha for a time, and meant to
come back and win or demand her from--."

"Hush! brother, hush!" cried Heika, laying his hand on the other's
mouth.  "Whatever I thought or meant to do matters little now, for I
have found it impossible to undertake this voyage after all."

"Impossible!" echoed Hake; "why, what craven spirit has come over thee?
Is not the boat ready? am not _I_ ready, and is not the opportunity
favourable?"

"All is ready, no doubt," replied Heika, hesitating, "but--"

"But the truth is," cried Leif, as he and Karlsefin issued from their
place of concealment, laughing heartily, "the truth is, that the
opportunity is _not_ favourable, for I have some objection to either of
you leaving me at present--though the objection is not so strong but
that it might give way if ye desired it greatly.  Come hither, all of
you."

He went a few steps towards the boat, and pointing to it, said--"Tell
me, Hake, for thou art not a bad counsellor at need, dost think that
vessel there is a sufficiently large one to venture a voyage in it on
these northern seas at this time of year?"

"It is large enough for men who would be free," replied Hake moodily,
for his astonishment on first beholding his master had given place to
deep mortification, now that he perceived his brother's hopes and plans
were frustrated.

"Nay, as to being free," returned Leif, with a laugh, "thy brother
hinted not long ago something about thy preference for thraldom, in
regard to which I now perceive some glimmering of reason; but I ask thee
for a matter-of-fact opinion.  Dost think there would be much risk in
the voyage thy brother contemplated?"

"There would be some risk, doubtless, yet not so much but that we would
have run it for the sake of freedom."

"H'm!  In my opinion it would have been a mad venture," rejoined Leif.
"What say you, Karlsefin?"

"A useless venture, as well as mad," he replied; "for death, not
freedom, would have been the end of it."

"So I think," returned Leif, "and that is my only objection to your
undertaking it, Hake.  Nevertheless if you and Heika are still willing
to venture, ye may do so.  There lies the boat; a fair wind is blowing
outside; get on board, shove off, hoist the sail and away to bonny
Scotland if you will, for _I grant you freedom to go_!"

"It is ill to jest with thralls," said Heika, looking sternly at his
master.

"Nay, I do not jest--nor are ye thralls," replied Leif, assuming a look
and tone of unwonted seriousness.  "Give me your attention, friends; and
thou, Karlsefin, take note of what I say, for I care not to talk much on
this subject until my mind is more clear upon it.  My opinion is that
this new religion which we hear so much of just now, is _true_.  It is
of God--not of man, and I believe that Jesus Christ, my Lord, has come
in the flesh to save His people from their sins.  Many things have led
me to this opinion, in regard to which I will not speak.  I have thought
and heard much for some years past, and woefully have I been staggered,
as well as helped on, by the men who have been sent to Greenland with
the Good News.  Some have, by their conduct squaring with their
profession, led me to believe.  Others have, by their conduct belying
their profession, hindered me.  But the Lord Himself has led me into a
certain measure of light; and there is one law of His in particular,
which just now comes home to me with much power, namely
this--`Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so
unto them.'  This law, I am persuaded, is of God.  Long have I lived,
and never before have I seen it acted on till these Christians came
amongst us.  They do not, indeed, always practise as they teach; but
they are imperfect, therefore they cannot practise _fully_ as they
teach, because they teach _perfection_.  This law I shall henceforth
follow as I best can.  I follow it to-day.  If I were in thraldom to
_you_, Heika, just now, I would wish you to set me free, therefore I now
set you and your brother free.  The rule is very simple of application.
It only wants a willing spirit.  And let me add--ye have to thank the
Lord, not me, for your freedom."

The brothers stood speechless with surprise on hearing this, but
Karlsefin grasped Leif's hand and said very earnestly--"Ye have done
well, brother.  Long have I thought to urge thee to this, and frequently
have I asked of Him that it might be as it has turned out.  Now, my
prayer is answered.  But what say Heika and Hake to this?"

"Never mind what they say," returned Leif brusquely.  "Doubtless their
thoughts interfere with their speech at present.  And hark 'ee, all; as
I said before, I desire to have no further talk at present on this
point.  Ye are welcome to tell whom ye please what I have said, and what
I have done, and why I have done it--there let the matter rest.  So now,
Heika and Hake," he added, in a gay tone, "I mean what I say.  There
lies the boat, and ye are free to go if it please you.  Only, if ye will
accept my advice you will make up your minds to spend this winter in
Greenland as my guests, and in spring there will be better weather and a
more fitting craft to carry you over the sea to Scotland.  Meanwhile
Hake will have ample opportunity to woo, win, and wed--without
demanding--the fair Bertha!"

Need we say that the brothers gladly accepted this generous invitation,
and endeavoured, in spite of Leif's prohibition, to express their
gratitude in a few earnest though broken sentences.

Great was the surprise that night in Brattalid, when it was made known
that Leif Ericsson had given freedom to his thralls out of regard to the
Christian religion.  Leif afterwards told his friends that it was out of
regard to the Founder of that religion, but it was long before many of
the people could see a distinction in that.  Numerous were the
theological discussions, too, which this act of emancipation called
forth in every household, and great was the joy which it created in one
or two hearts.

To say nothing of the young Scots themselves, it caused the heart of
timid little Bertha to sing for joy, while Gudrid, Astrid, and Thora
rejoiced sympathetically, and looked forward with pleasant anticipation
to the approaching marriage.  Even Freydissa opened out in a new light
on the occasion, and congratulated her handmaiden heartily, telling her
with real sincerity that marriage was the only thing she was fit for!

But it was Olaf who displayed the greatest amount of feeling on the
occasion, and it was Snorro on whom he expended himself!

On the morning after the great event, he hoisted Snorro on his back with
his wonted care and tenderness, and hurried off with him to the solitude
of the sea-shore--for, alas! there were no umbrageous solitudes in
Greenland.  There, not far from the spot where Flatface and his friends
had once been made to wriggle their coat-tails with terror, he set
Snorro down, and, sitting on a rock beside him, said--

"Now, old man, it is going to have a talk with me."

"Iss," replied Snorro, very contentedly.

"Does it know what has happened to Hake and Heika?"

Snorro shook his head.

"Well, my father has set them both free."

"Bof f'ee?" repeated Snorro, with a puzzled look.

"Yes, both."

"W'at's _f'ee_?" asked Snorro.

Olaf was greatly perplexed, for he knew not how to convey an idea of the
meaning of that word to his little friend.  He made various attempts,
however, by means of simple illustrations and words, to explain it, but
without success--as was made plain by Snorro's usually intelligent
countenance remaining a perfect blank.

At last he seized the child by both wrists and held him fast for a few
seconds.

"Snorro," he said, "you are _not_ free while I hold you.  Now," he
added, releasing the wrists, "you _are_ free."

Snorro's countenance was no longer blank, but, on the contrary,
extremely perplexed.

"Leif," he said, "no' hold Heika an' Hake by e _hands_!"

"No," replied Olaf, "but he holds them by the spirit."

"W'at's spiwit?" asked Snorro.

Olaf was in despair!

"Well, well," he cried, after stroking his chin and pulling his nose,
and knuckling his forehead in the vain hope of hitting on some other
mode of explaining his meaning; "it don't matter, old man.  They are
free, and that has made them very happy; and oh!  I am very glad,
because I am so fond of Hake.  Don't you remember how he came to save us
from the Skraelingers, and nearly did it too?  And he is going to be
married to Bertha.  Isn't that nice?  It knows what married means, don't
it?"

"No," said Snorro.

"Well, no matter; it's what seems to make everybody very happy; and
Bertha is very happy, and so am I, for I'm fond of Bertha, as well as of
Hake; and so is Snorro, isn't he?"

"Iss," replied Snorro, with a very decided nod.

"Well, that's all very pleasant," continued Olaf, running on with the
subject until it led him into another subject, which led him into a
third and fourth, and so on, with the ever-varying moods of his gay and
fanciful mind, until he was led in spirit to Vinland, where he and
Snorro remained lost in the woods, perfectly contented and happy, for
the remainder of the day.

And now, patient reader, we must lead you in spirit away from the scenes
on which we have dwelt so long, across the wide ocean to Scotland.

There, on the heights of a lion-like hill, stand Heika and Hake.  A
precipitous crag rises behind them.  In front towers a rock, from which
Edwin's castle frowns down on the huts of an embryo city.  The
undulating woodland between resounds with the notes of the huntsman's
horn.  Away in the distance lie the clear waters of the fiord of Forth,
and the background of Scotia's highland hills mingling with the sky.

The brothers stand in rapt and silent admiration of the scene, as well
they may, for it is surpassingly beautiful.  But they do not stand
alone.  Bertha leans on Hake's arm, and a tall girl with dark hair leans
on Heika's.  Beside them stands a fine-looking though somewhat delicate
old man; whose benignant gaze seems to be more attracted by the young
people than the scenery.

Need we say that this is the Scottish Earl, the father of our
fleet-footed thralls, and that the dark-haired girl is Emma?  We will
not violate your sense of propriety, gentle reader, by talking of Mrs
Heika; nor will we venture to make reference to the little Heikas left
at home!

But these are not all the party.  Karlsefin, Biarne, and Thorward are
there--on a visit to the Earl--with Gudrid and Freydissa; and away on
the fiord they can see their two Norse galleys towering like quaint
giants at rest among the small craft that ply and skim about there.

Shall we listen to what our friends say?  We think not.  Too long
already have we caused them to break the silence which they have
maintained for the last eight hundred years.  Let us rather bid their
shades depart with a kind farewell.

But before the memory of them is quite gone, let us say a word or two in
conclusion.

Whether the Norsemen ever returned again to Vinland is a matter of
uncertainty, for the saga is silent on that point; and it is to be
feared that Snorro, the first American, did not return to take
possession of his native land, for when the great continent was
re-discovered about five hundred years later, only "red-skins" were
found there; and the Pilgrim Fathers make no mention of having met with
descendants of any colony of white men.

What ultimately became of Snorro and Olaf is, we regret to say, unknown.
This, however, is certain, that Karlsefin, according to his
oft-expressed intention, retired to Iceland, where he dwelt happily with
Gudrid, Leif, Biarne, and Thorward for many years.  It is therefore
probable that Snorro and Olaf took to a seafaring life, which was almost
the only life open to enterprising men in those days.  If they did, they
distinguished themselves--there can be no doubt whatever upon that
point.

As to the other personages who have figured in our tale, we can only
surmise--at least hope--that they lived long and happily, for the saga
relates nothing as to the end of their respective careers.  But of this
we are quite sure, that wherever they went, or however long they lived,
they never failed to retain a lively recollection of that romantic
period of their lives when they sojourned in the pleasant groves of
Vinland--that mighty continent which, all unsuspected by these men of
old, was destined, in the course of time, to play such a grand and
important part in the world's history.

Thus ends all that we have got to tell of the adventures of the Norsemen
in the West, and the Discovery of America before Columbus.

THE END.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note.  An important Christian colony existed in Greenland for nearly 400
years--from some time in the tenth to near the end of the fourteenth
century,--a colony in which, in the fourteenth century, there were 190
townships and a town called Garda, in which were a cathedral, bishop's
seat, and twelve or thirteen churches, besides other Christian
establishments, with a regular succession of bishops for their
superintendence, of whom seventeen are named in the sagas.  This colony,
strange to say, was obliterated, no one knew how or when, and its very
existence was forgotten by the civilised world.  It was chronicled,
however, in the Icelandic sagas and brought to light by antiquaries of
the highest authority.  The statistical details given by the sagas have
been corroborated by the actual discovery in Greenland, in the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, of vast ecclesiastical and other
buildings.  These are facts which do not admit of reasonable doubt--so
writes Samuel Laing in his translation of "The Heimskringla, or
Chronicle of the Kings of Norway," volume one, page 141.





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