There was a silence stiller than death.  The Norsemen faced the ominous thicket without moving a muscle.  Some one within it called out something which Thorolf did not understand.  But no more arrows came.  He tried another sentence.

“Klooskap k-chi skitap, pechedog latogwesnuk.” (Klooskap was a great man in the country far to the northward.)

This time he made out the answer.  In a swift aside he explained to his comrades,—­

“‘K’putuswin’ means ‘let us take council.’  They want to have a talk.”

He managed to convey his assent to the unseen listeners, and every tree, rock and log sprouted Skroelings.  They were quite unlike the natives of Greenland, though of copper-colored complexion.[5] These men—­there were no women among them,—­were tall and sinewy, and wore their coarse black hair knotted up on the head with a tuft of feathers.  They were naked to the waist, and wore fringed breeches of deerskin, and soft shoes embroidered in bright colors.  Some had necklaces of bears’ claws, beads or shells, but the only weapons seemed to be the bow and arrow and a stone-headed hatchet or club.  They stared at the white man half curiously and half threateningly.

Then began the queerest conversation that any one present had ever heard.  Thorolf discovered the wild men’s language to be so nearly like that learned from the Wind-wife that he could understand it when spoken slowly, and in a halting fashion could make them comprehend him.  His companions listened in wonder.  Not even Anders had really believed in that language.

At last Thorolf held out his hand, and the leader of the Skroelings came forward in a very gingerly manner and took it.  Then walking in single file, toes pointed straight forward, the savages melted into the forest as frost melts in sunshine.

With a broad grin, the first he had worn for some time, Thorolf translated.

“He asked why we came here.  I told him, to see the country and trade with his people.  He says that white men have come here before, very long ago.  I think they were killed and he did not wish to say so.  He says that the Sagem, the jarl of his people, lives in a castle over there somewhere.  I told him to give the Sagem greeting from our commander, and invite him to visit the place where our ships are.  He says that it will not be safe for us to go further into the forest until the Skroelings have heard who we are and what we are doing here.”

“That is very good advice,” said Anders with a wry face, as he plucked some moss to stanch the wound in his arm.  The arrow-head which had made it was a shaped piece of flint bound to the shaft with cords of fine sinew.  “We are too few to get into a general fight.  Besides, that is not in our orders.”

They accordingly went back to the ships, arriving a little before sundown.  Knutson was greatly interested.

“You have done well,” he said.  “A boat was hovering about soon after you left.  This may have been a scouting party sent through the forest to cut you off.”