wed by a shout of laughter, and then the others, rising,
resumed their search, not doubting that their irate companion would ere
long rejoin them.

But Tyrker did not join them, and when evening drew on apace they became
anxious, gave up the search for vines, and went about looking for him.
At last it became too dark for them to continue the search, and they
were obliged to return home without their comrade.

On leaving them Tyrker had no definite idea what he meant to do or where
he meant to go. He just walked straight before him in high dudgeon,
taking no notice of the route by which he journeyed, or the flight of
time. At length he awoke from his absent condition of mind and looked
up. A vast amphitheatre of wooded hills surrounded him, and there, in
the heart of a secluded dell, under a clump of trees, were the long
sought and much-desired vines!

For some time Tyrker stood gazing at them in silent admiration and
delight. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes; there could be no
question as to their reality. There hung the rich purple clusters such
as he had seen on his first visit to Vinland, and such as he had been
wont to see in his own land in days long gone by. He pinched himself,
pulled his hair, punched his eyeballs, but no--all that failed to awaken
him; from which circumstance he naturally came to the conclusion that he
was awake already. He then uttered a wild, probably a Turkish, cheer,
and rushed upon the spoil.

Filling both hands with the fruit he crammed his mouth full. Then he
raised his eyes upwards in ecstasy and did it again. He repeated it!
After which he paused to sigh, and leaped up to cheer and sat down again
to--guzzle! Pardon the word, good reader, it is appropriate, for there
is no disguising the fact that Tyrker was a tremendous glutton, and did
not care a fig--or a grape--for appearances.

After eating for a long time he was satisfied and sat down to rest. By
that time the shades of evening were falling. They proved to be
soporific, for he gradually reclined backwards on the green turf and
fell asleep, surrounded by and partially covered with grapes, like a
drunken and disorderly Bacchus.

Now Tyrker was a man in robust health; full of energy and high spirits.
Sleep therefore was to him a process which, once begun, continued till
morning. Even the puckered little Snorro did not rest more soundly in
his kneading-trough crib than did Tyrker on the greensward under his