promised me that."

"Oh, my dear, my dear," cried Halldis, "to be sure he did! What else
could he say or feel at such a time?" But Gudrid held to her opinion,
and to her token too. She said that she should always wear it; and
Halldis had not the heart to exclaim.

They sailed with a fair wind, having waited for it, and were soon out
of sight of land; but it did not hold. Bad weather overtook them,
contrary winds, driving rain, fog--that overhanging curse of Greenland.
They ran far out of their course and had to beat back again; cattle
died, provision ran short; to crown all a sickness broke out among the
company, whereof near half died. Thorbeorn kept hale and hearty
throughout; and Gudrid took no harm. The wet, the clinging cold, the
wild weather did not prevent her attending the sick, or doing the work
which they should have done, had they been able. She had no time to be
happy or unhappy, and was never afraid of anything.

It was hard upon the winter; the days were short, the nights bitter
cold. The fog, thick and white like a fleece, seemed incapable of
lifting. The wind came in short spells, the sea was lumpy. But one
day as they were labouring and rolling, the ship straining and cordage
creaking, Thorbeorn lifted his head, and bore hard upon the helm.
"Breakers!" he shouted, and the crew sprang to the rail. A dark form
seemed to lift out of the fog, like a core of blackness, and clouds of
sea-birds wheeled overhead with harsh clamour. They were come unawares
to Greenland the White, and within an ace of breaking up against her
cliffs.

None on board knew what headland this might be; but Thorbeorn knew it
was not Ericsfrith, which he had intended to make. They rounded it,
however, without mishap, and had a fair wind when they were beyond it.
At last they could see a shore with a rough breakwater of stones; and
presently upon that shore some men standing together. They cast anchor
and let down their sails, and before all was shipshape a boat came
rowing out to them, with a man in the stern in a blue cloak. The boat
came alongside, and they were hailed. "Who and whence are you?"

Thorbeorn told his name and port of origin. "I hoped to make
Ericsfrith," he said.

"You have made a poor business of it," said the master of the boat.
"This is Heriolfsness, a good ten hours' sailing from the frith; and I
am Heriolf at your service."

Gudrid's heart leapt. This was the father of Biorn, of whom Eina