But the next day proved to be so glorious, bright, and sunny that Steve could not realise the fact that the winter would be upon them soon. There were tiny flowers in sunny corners, the sea and sky were of a brilliant blue, and the birds that were sailing round and round, and, chasing each other, made the rocks echo with their joyous cries.
“This place is so sheltered that we ought not to feel the winter so very much,” he said to himself; and he walked up to where the Norsemen were seated rebinding the lashing about their lance heads, examining the grommetting round the harpoons, and planing up a fresh shaft for a lance whose handle had been cracked in an encounter with a huge walrus, which gave one vigorous flap and broke away, the lance handle snapping as if it had been a match, at the same time preparing one for Johannes’ weapon broken by the bear.
“Morning,” he said; and the fair, big, grave-looking fellows returned his salute with a smile.
“Going to be fine weather?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, fine and clear for some days yet. I don’t think we shall have any snow.”
“I should hope not,” said Steve, smiling. “I say, Johannes, didn’t we have a bit of a frost this morning?”
“Yes, sir, a slight one.”
“You don’t think that’s a sign of the winter coming, do you?”
“Yes, sir; and very soon.”
“What nonsense!” cried Steve. “Why, we often have sharp frosts at home in April and May, and they don’t mean that winter is coming. Why do you think it is coming so soon?”