“It is two weeks now, foster-father, since the winter booths were finished and you began the practice of sending out exploring parties.  In all those days you have but once permitted me to share the sport.  I ask you to tell me how long I shall have to endure this?”

It appeared that the hand which stroked the chief’s mustache also hid a dry smile.

“You grasp your weapon by the wrong end, foster-son,” he retorted.  “You forget that each time I have chosen an exploring party to go out, I have also chosen a party to remain at home and guard the goods.  How is it possible that I could spare from their number a man who has shown himself so superior in good sense and firm-mindedness—­”

Sigurd’s foot came down in an unmistakable stamp; and the remaining berries were crushed in his clenching fist.

“Enough jests have been strung on that thread!  I have submitted to you patiently because it appeared to me that your anger was not without cause, yet it is no more than just for you to remember that I was helpless in the matter.  Since the girl was already so far, it would have been dastardly for me to have refused her aid.  It is not as though I had enticed her from Norway—­”

A confusing recollection brought him suddenly to a halt, the blood tingling in his cheeks.  He knew that the eyes above the brown hand had become piercing, but there were many reasons why he did not care to meet them.  After a moment’s hesitation, he frankly abandoned that tack and tried a new one.  Dropping on one knee to wipe his berry-stained hand in the grass, he looked up with his gay smile.  “There is yet another reason why you should allow me my way, foster-father.  Upon the one occasion when I did accompany the party, the discovery was made of those fields of self-sown wheat which you prize so highly.  Since then I have remained at home, and nothing of value has come to light.  Who knows what you might not find this time, if you would but take my luck along with you?”

Leif pushed the cub aside and rose to his feet, the strengthening savor of broiled salmon announcing the imminent approach of the morning meal.

“Although I cannot say that I consider that an argument which would win you a case before a law-man,” he observed, “yet I will not be so stark as to punish you further.  Take your chance with the rovers if you will; though it is not likely that you will have time both to eat your food and to make yourself ready.”

Sigurd was already gone on a bound.

“It will not take me long to choose between the two,” he called back joyously, over his shoulder.

While the rest feasted noisily at the long table before the provision sheds, the Silver-Tongued hurried between sleeping house and store-room, rummaging out his heaviest boots, his stoutest tunic, his oldest mantle.  At the last moment, the edge on his knife was found to be unsatisfactory, and he went and sat down by one of the cook-fires and fell to work with a sharpening stone.