crowded with attendants that there was barely room for
the servants to run between the horses with the ale horns. Outside the
fence there was nearly always a mob of children and paupers and thralls
lying in wait, like a wolf-pack, to tear information out of any member
of the household who should venture beyond the gates.

Usually it was only vague rumor and meagre report that fell to the share
of these outsiders; but the day before Leif's departure it happened that
they got a bit of excitement first-hand.

Late that afternoon word went around that the trading-ship of Arnor
Gunnarsson was coming up Eric's Fiord. The arrival of that merchant was
one of the events of the year. Not only did it occasion great feasting
among the rich, which meant additional alms among the poor, but besides
a chance to feast one's stomach, it meant an opportunity to feast one's
eyes on beautiful garments and wonderful weapons; and in addition to all
else, it meant such a budget of news and gossip and thrilling yarns as
should supply local conversation with a year's stock of topics,--a stock
always run low and rather shopworn towards the end of the long winters.
At the first hint of the "Eastman's" approach, a crowd of idlers was
gathered out of nowhere as quickly as buzzards are drawn out of empty
space.

As the heavy dun-colored merchantman came slowly to its berth and the
anchor fell with a rattle and a splash, the motley crowd cheered
shrilly. When the ruddy gold-bearded trader appeared at the side, ready
to clamber into the boat his men were lowering, they cheered again. And
they regarded it as an appropriate tribute to the importance of the
occasion when one of their number came running over the sand to announce
breathlessly that Leif Ericsson himself was riding down to greet the
arrivals, accompanied by no less a person than his high-born foster-son.

"Although it is no great wonder that the Lucky One feels interest," they
told each other. "The last time that Eric the Red came to meet traders,
they returned his greeting with a sweep of their arms toward their
ships, and an invitation to take whatever of its contents best pleased
him."

"The strange wonder to me," mumbled one old man, "is that it is always
to those who have sufficient wealth to purchase them that presents are
given. It may be that Odin knows why gifts are seldom given to the poor:
certainly I think one needs to be all-wise to understand it."

His companions clapped