Ingolf and his serf rode over the sand-dunes. On each sand-hill sat a gull. Full of an injured sense of proprietorship, the birds sat there and followed silently with an inscrutable look these strange animals who brought disturbance into the landscape. These sands were intersected by a countless number of powerful glacier streams. But fortunately the glacier proved passable in that part, so that Ingolf and his companion succeeded in circumventing the rivers in that way.
On the evening of the second day they were again stopped by a glacier stream as broad as a fjord, and with a treacherous bottom of fine sand. It traversed the district Ingolf and Leif had penetrated on their expedition southward from the Svanefjords the previous summer. Ingolf tried to circumvent it in the same way as he had the other river. But here the glacier was so full of deep crevasses along and across its course, that after many vain attempts he had to give it up. There was nothing for it but to turn round and put off the examination of the coast till the winter had bridged with ice the impassable rivers.
The remainder of the summer passed in winter preparations of all kinds. There were plenty of things to take in hand and look after.
Ingolf kept an eye on his sister, Helga, and showed her great friendliness in his words and behaviour. He could not exactly ascertain the real state of her feelings. She was quiet as ever, and all smiles and good-humour. She played with the boy, helped Hallveig, and there was apparently nothing in the least the matter with her spirits. But Ingolf had now and then, early in the morning, before any one else was up, surprised her standing staring with a long look towards the distant mountains that showed bluish in the south-west. In that direction lay Hjor-Leif's point, although so far away that it could not be discerned. It cut Ingolf to the heart to see his sister stand gazing so—her face was so unusually pale in the mornings, and her blue eyes darker than at other times, as though shadowed by a twilight below them.
He had been many times on the point of telling her about the last words he had exchanged with Leif. For he knew that she was not aware of Hjor-Leif's real reason for letting her remain behind with himself and Hallveig, and had no idea what she thought about it. But on further reflection he gave up the thought of telling her every time. Perhaps by doing so he would only cause her unnecessary anxiety and sorrow. She would certainly hardly be so quiet as now, if she were seriously anxious for Hjor-Leif. Best not to interfere with her thoughts. For his own part, Ingolf was not for an instant afraid of anything happening to Hjor-Leif, though he agreed with him that it was best not to expose Helga to the results of any conspiracy among the serfs, which he might well have reason to fear. But Ingolf knew Hjor-Leif. Even if his brother had been alone with the ten seditious serfs he would not have felt anxious for him. Hjor-Leif was on the watch, and he had successfully managed worse situations.
The winter began with slight frost and much snow. It was past Yuletide before the rivers were frozen.
As soon as possible, Ingolf equipped Vifel and another of his serfs, named Karle, and sent them eastward along the coast with orders to examine closely every creek and every promontory, and not to return till they had inspected both Svanefjord's, except in the event of their finding the pillars before.
The serfs experienced wretched weather, with snow-storms and intense frost. They remained away for two weeks, and returned hungry and weary. They had examined the coast-line as far as north of the Svanefjords, but seen nothing of the pillars anywhere. When they had informed Ingolf, he heaved a deep sigh and gave up the Svanefjords.