Chapter Eight.

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 tous?” 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 ofordinarymortals?”“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 débris 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, asIdid 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.

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 tous?” 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 ofordinarymortals?”

“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 débris 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, asIdid 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 robyou, 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.“Youmust not drink, Freydissa,” he continued seriously. “Gudrid did call upon thegirlsto 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.

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 robyou, 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.

“Youmust not drink, Freydissa,” he continued seriously. “Gudrid did call upon thegirlsto 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 theSnake, 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 theSnakemade 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 gothomeat 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 whatyousay,” 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 onlyshewere 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 itwasa 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 thatthouart 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’tsay you did your best for it. You didn’t. Youknowyou 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, althoughshedeserved reproof, the cat did not deserve to be killed.”“Beshrew me!”“Nay,” interrupted Karlsefin, with a laugh, “thatis 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.

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 theSnake, 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 theSnakemade 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 gothomeat 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 whatyousay,” 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 onlyshewere 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 itwasa 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 thatthouart 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’tsay you did your best for it. You didn’t. Youknowyou 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, althoughshedeserved reproof, the cat did not deserve to be killed.”

“Beshrew me!”

“Nay,” interrupted Karlsefin, with a laugh, “thatis 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.

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