It is not easy to conceive the state of alarm that prevailed in the settlement of the Norsemen when it came to be known that little Snorro and Olaf were lost. The terrible fact did not of course break on them all at once.

 

For some hours after the two adventurers had left home, Dame Gudrid went briskly about her household avocations, humming tunefully one of her native Icelandic airs, and thinking, no doubt, of Snorro. Astrid, assisted by Bertha, went about the dairy operations, gossiping of small matters in a pleasant way, and, among other things, providing Snorro’s allowance of milk. Thora busied herself in the preparation of Snorro’s little bed; and Freydissa, whose stern nature was always softened by the sight of the child, constructed, with elaborate care, a little coat for Snorro’s body. Thus Snorro’s interests were being tenderly cared for until the gradual descent of the sun induced the remark, that “Olaf must surely have taken a longer walk than usual that day.”

 

“I must go and meet them,” said Gudrid, becoming for the first time uneasy.

 

“Let me go with you,” said Bertha.

 

“Come, child,” returned Gudrid.

 

In passing the spot where the little bear had been cut up and skinned, they saw Hake standing with Biarne.

 

“Did you say that Olaf took the track of the woodcutters?” asked Gudrid.

 

“Ay, that was their road at starting,” answered Biarne. “Are they not later than usual?”

 

“A little. We go to meet them.”

 

“Tell Olaf that I have kept the bear’s claws for him,” said Biarne.

 

The two women proceeded a considerable distance along the woodcutters’ track, chatting, as they went, on various subjects, but, not meeting the children, they became alarmed and walked on in silence.

 

Suddenly Gudrid stopped.

 

“Bertha,” said she, “let us not waste time. If the dear children have strayed a little out of the right road, it is of the utmost importance to send men to search and shout for them before it begins to darken. Come, we will return.”

 

Being more alarmed than she liked to confess, even to herself, Gudrid at once walked rapidly homewards, and, on approaching the huts, quickened her pace to a run.

 

“Quick, Swend, Hake, Biarne!” she cried; “the children must have lost their way—haste you to search for them before the sun goes down. Shout as ye go. It will be ill to find them after dark, and if they have to spend the night in the woods, I fear me they will—”

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