e brooding stranger; nor did the latter
give any sign of noticing the slight. But the chief's keen eyes saw it,
as they saw everything.

From his seat under the maple-tree, he called out with the voice of
authority: "Hardy bear-fighters are not made by abstaining from food;
nor are wits sharpened by sulking. I invite the Norman to sit with me,
while he drinks his ale and tells me what lies heavy on his mind."

It was with more embarrassment than gratification that Robert Sans-Peur
responded to this invitation.

"It may well be that my head is drowsy because I have had too much ale,"
he made excuse, as he took his seat.

Over the chunk of bread he was raising to his mouth, the chief regarded
his guest critically.

"There is an old saying," he observed, "that when it happens to a man
that his head is sleepy in the day-time, it is because his mind is not
in his body but wanders out in the world in another shape. In what land,
and in what form, do the Norman's thoughts travel?"

After a moment, Robert the Fearless rose to his feet and bowed low.
"They have returned to rest contentedly in an unnamed land," he
answered; "and they wear the shape of thanks to Leif Ericsson for his
many favors. I drink to the Lucky One's health, and to his undying fame!
Skoal!"

As he set down his horn after the toast, the Norman's glance happened to
encounter a glance from the shield-maiden, who was passing. Taking
another horn from the thrall, he bowed again, with proverbial French
gallantry; then quaffed off the second measure of ale to the honor of
Helga the Fair.

Leif turned in time to catch a rather unusual expression on the maiden's
face, though her courtesy was a model of formality. He held out his hand
peremptorily.

"Come hither, kinswoman, and tell me how matters go with you," he
commanded. "It is to be hoped that Tyrker has not lost you out of his
mind, as I have done during these last weeks. How are you entertaining
yourself this morning, while he is absent?"

Helga sped a guilty thought to a certain green nook on the river bluff;
and winged heavenward a prayer of thanks that she had put off until
afternoon her daily pilgrimage to the beloved shrine.

She answered readily, "I have entertained myself very poorly so far,
kinsman, for I have been doing such woman's-work as Thorhild commends. I
have been in your sleeping-house, sewing upon the skin curtains that are
to make the fourth wall of my chamber."

Leif glanced