n a halting fashion could make them comprehend him. His
companions listened in wonder. Not even Anders had really believed in
that language.

At last Thorolf held out his hand, and the leader of the Skroelings came
forward in a very gingerly manner and took it. Then walking in single
file, toes pointed straight forward, the savages melted into the forest
as frost melts in sunshine.

With a broad grin, the first he had worn for some time, Thorolf
translated.

"He asked why we came here. I told him, to see the country and trade
with his people. He says that white men have come here before, very long
ago. I think they were killed and he did not wish to say so. He says
that the Sagem, the jarl of his people, lives in a castle over there
somewhere. I told him to give the Sagem greeting from our commander, and
invite him to visit the place where our ships are. He says that it will
not be safe for us to go further into the forest until the Skroelings
have heard who we are and what we are doing here."

"That is very good advice," said Anders with a wry face, as he plucked
some moss to stanch the wound in his arm. The arrow-head which had made
it was a shaped piece of flint bound to the shaft with cords of fine
sinew. "We are too few to get into a general fight. Besides, that is not
in our orders."

They accordingly went back to the ships, arriving a little before
sundown. Knutson was greatly interested.

"You have done well," he said. "A boat was hovering about soon after you
left. This may have been a scouting party sent through the forest to cut
you off."

All the next day they waited, but nothing happened. On the morning
after, a large number of boats appeared rounding the headland to the
south. In the largest sat the Sagem, a very old man wrapped in furs. The
boats were made of birchbark laced on a wooden framework with fibrous
roots, like the toy skiff Mother Elle had made for little Peder.

The Skroelings landed, and advanced with great dignity to meet Knutson,
who was equally ceremonious. Nils and Thorolf had all they could do to
interpret the old chief's long speech, although many phrases were
repeated again and again, which made it easier. Knutson made one in
reply, briefer but quite as polite, and brought out beads, little
knives, and scarlet cloth from his trading stores. The red cloth and
beads were received with eagerness, the knives with interest, and after
a young chief had cut himself, with some awe. T