Knutson wrote to the King, but got no reply for a long time.  A ship with a cargo of trading stores was sent for, and was wrecked on the Faroes.  But in the following spring an expedition to Vinland was really planned.  There was no general desire to take part in it.  Many of Knutson’s party now longed for their native land, where the mountains were drawn swords flashing in the sun, and the malachite and silver waters and flowery turf, the jeweled scabbards.  They dreamed of the lure sounding over the valleys, of bright-paired maidens dancing the spring dans.  Nevertheless in due season the Rotge left the Greenland shore and pointed her inquiring beak southeast by south.  In the Gudrid sailed Knutson and his immediate following, with the trading cargo and most of the provisions.  By keeping well out to sea at first the commander hoped to escape the perils of the coast.

This hope was dashed by an Atlantic gale which drove them westward.  For two days and two nights they were tossed between wind and tide.  Toward the end of the second night the sound of the waves indicated land to starboard.  In the growing light they saw a harbor that seemed spacious enough for all the ships in the world, sheltered by wooded hills.  If this were Vinland, it was greater than saga told or skald sang.

They landed to take in fresh water, mend a leak and see the country, but found no grapes, no Skroelings nor any sign of Northmen’s presence.  On the rocks grew vineberries, or mountain cranberries, and Knutson thought that perhaps these and not true grapes were the fruit found in Vinland.  He sent a party of a dozen men, Anders and Thorolf leading, to explore the forest, ascend some hill if possible and return the same day.  He himself remained with the ships and kept Nils by him.  He rather expected that the natives, learning of the strangers’ arrival, would be drawn by curiosity to visit the bay.

The scouting party followed the banks of the little stream that had given them fresh water, Anders leading, Thorolf just behind him.  Wind stirred softly in the leaves overhead, unseen birds fluttered and chirped, sunshine sifting through the maple undergrowth turned it to emerald and gold and jasper.  Once there was a discordant screech from the evergreens, but it was only a brilliant blue jay with crest erect, scolding at them.  A striped squirrel flashed up the trunk of a tree to his hole.  Then sudden as lightning, from the bushes they had just passed, came a flight of arrows.

Two men were slightly wounded, but most of the arrows were turned by the light strong body armor of the Norsemen.  The foe remained unseen and unheard.  Nothing stirred, though the men scanned the woods about them with the keen eyes of seamen and hunters.

Thorolf was seized with an inspiration.  He went forward a step or two, lifted his hand in salutation, and called,—­

“Klooskap mech p’maosa?"[4] (Is Klooskap yet alive?)