nd they rode off.

As Helga had said, the camp was not far away. Once across the river,
they turned to the left and wound along the rolling woody banks toward
the fiord. Entering a thicket of hazel-bushes on the crest of the gentle
slope, they were met by faint sounds of shouting and laughter. Emerging
into a green little valley, the camp lay before them.

Half a dozen wooden booths tented over with gay striped linen and
adorned with streaming flags, a leaping fire, a pile of slain deer, a
string of grazing horses, and a throng of brawny men skinning the deer,
chasing the horses, scouring armor, drinking, wrestling, and
lounging,--these were Alwin's first confused impressions.

"There it is!" cried Helga. "Saw you ever a prettier spot? There is
Tyrker under that ash tree. And there,--do you remember that black mane?
Yonder, bending over that shield? That is Egil Olafsson. Now it comes to
my mind again! To-night we go to a feast at the King's house; that is
why he is so busy. And yonder! Yonder is Rolf wrestling. He is the
strongest man in Greenland; did you know that? Even Valbrand cannot
stand against him. Whistle now as you were wont to for the hawks, and
see if they will not remember."

They swept down the slope, the high sweet notes rising clear above the
clatter. One man glanced up in surprise, then another and another; then
suddenly every man dropped what he was doing, and leaped up with shouts
of greeting and welcome. Sigurd disappeared behind a hedge of yellow
heads and waving hands.

Alwin felt himself clutched eagerly. "Donnerwetter, but I have waited a
long time for you!" said the old German, short-breathed and panting.
"That beast was like the insides of me to have out-shaken. Bring to me a
horn of ale; but first give me your shoulder to yonder booth."

CHAPTER IV

IN A VIKING LAIR

Leaving in the field his arms,
Let no man go
A fool's length forward:
For it is hard to know
When, on his way,
A man may need his weapon.
Ha'vama'l

The camp lay red in the sunset light, and the twilight hush had fallen
upon it so that one could hear the sleepy bird-calls in the woods
around, and the drowsy murmur of the river. Sigurd lay on his back under
a tree, staring up into the rustling greenery. From the booth set apart
for her, Helga came out dressed for the feast. She had replaced her
scarlet kirtle and hose by garments of azure-blue silk, and changed her
silver hel