e dream was broken,
and neither of them spoke of it. Their preparations were soon made,
and then they left the ship.

Thorstan Black rowed them ashore with strong and leisurely strokes. He
told them that he lived over the ridge beyond the Settlement. He had a
sleigh of dogs waiting for him, packed up Gudrid, put Thorstan one side
of her and himself the other, cracked a great whip, uttered a harsh
cry; and they were off. The dogs panted and strained at the ropes;
sometimes one yelped in his excitement. And so they came to a
broad-eaved house, and were welcomed by the good wife, whose name was
Grimhild.

XX

The winter fell upon them in bitter earnest within the next fortnight.
The snow was up to the top of the windows, and being there, froze hard,
and had to be cut away with an axe. That was how they made a road to
the byres where the stock were, and where they must be fed. The two
Thorstans worked hard at this and at fuel-getting, and hewing of wood.
Gurth the reeve helped them, but he was ailing already with the
sickness, and not much use.

Grimhild, a strong-faced, huge woman, managed all the house, but Gudrid
helped her now willingly. There were no maids there. In the evenings
they sat by the fire and told tales. It was as merry as might be, and
with Thorstan Black there was always some fun to be had. He was the
lightest-hearted man and the happiest whom Gudrid had seen in
Greenland, where mostly, it seemed, men had to fight with life at too
long odds to have any heart left over for pastime. Thorstan Black
owned to it. "There is no people but ours of Iceland, I do believe,
who would hold out against this white death," he said. "So fast as we
come we die of it. Then come others, and so the game goes on. It is
the fighting we love; we were always fighters--what with horses, or our
young men. But here we fight with the earth, sea and sky, and do
little slaughter of our own kind."

"It is the fog that kills us," said Grimhild; and Gurth smothered his
cough and hugged himself over the fire.

Gudrid said: "Why should you stay here? I think it is a terrible
country. We shall go to Wineland as soon as the spring comes." Then
she told them of that good country--of the tall trees, and the clear
sky, of the dew which was sweet to the taste, of the vines tumbling
over the hot rocks, the birds' voices in the forest, and the strange
stars at night. Grimhild was moved by the recital.

"Ay," she