Why could not Leif be content with the difficulties he had stirred up for him at Gaulum? Why further entice him into breaking the promise he had given his father to follow the main roads and to be cautious?
At first Ingolf had only been angry with himself for having let Leif seduce him into disobedience and breaking his word. But in his present condition he had no power to apportion his anger. He had to heap it all together with the blame on Leif.
The riders had slackened their pace, and rode quietly side by side, close together. But they avoided looking at each other, and did not say a word. Leif perceived that Ingolf, for some reason or other, had become very angry.
That did not surprise him. Ingolf, who was accustomed to preserve his calm on occasions when others became angry, was also wont to become angry at the strangest times. Leif searched his conscience. It was fairly uneasy, as usual, but nothing more. It was impossible to see how he had deserved Ingolf's wrath at that moment more than at others. He had not mocked at the gods, and he had till just now been so cheerful. He felt a little irritated, and was also curious to see what had happened in Ingolf's mind, but he had resolved that it was not worth while to irritate him by speaking. He would see if he could not, by keeping silence, charm the anger out of him. Ingolf could not well remain angry indefinitely. Still, it was a nuisance; all the pleasure of the ride was gone.
They rode on at a rapid trot, and Leif remained silent. But he was not accustomed to ride in that way. A great feeling of heaviness came over him, and quenched in its darkness all the lively sparks of his humour. But they would soon be home. He yawned till his jaws seemed to crack. Would there be a storm? He felt reckless. But what an endless way back it seemed when they approached the forest which they must go round. What sense was there in the forest lying there and barring their way to the valley? But for that, they might easily be home by bedtime. If the horses only had such long legs as their shadows on the snow possessed, they could stride over the forest. What wretched short-legged jades they were!
Yes, everything had gone wrong that evening. Nothing was as it should be. There rode Ingolf with a bee in his bonnet. One dared not even speak to him. And why had they no food with them? He felt suddenly so ravenously hungry that he actually seemed to sniff the scent of roast meat. Meat and bread and beer—hm hm! And now that he had once begun to think of food, he continued to do so. He could at last almost taste it upon his tongue. Could they not ride through the wood?
He suddenly forgot all caution and addressed Ingolf in the simplicity of his heart. "I know a path through the forest."
It sounded quite naturally, as though he had suddenly thought of it. But for those who knew Leif, his voice was too sincere to be able to conceal a lie. Ingolf saw through him at once. So Leif was not yet content with the harm done! He looked angrily and scornfully at him. "Do you?" he answered, with an excessively quiet and indifferent air. "Then you'd better make a short cut through."
Leif looked uncertainly at him. He knew no path through the wood; on the contrary, he had lost his way in it one summer's day, and only with great difficulty got out of it again. It had just occurred to him that if he induced Ingolf to try the wood, they would be able to manage it.
It was only a matter of keeping the right direction, and that can always be done when there are two going together. The wood could certainly not be impassible. And to try it would at least be a change. To stay here would be tedious in the long run.