"And you thought of frost giants!"
Then they sailed on for days and days. They met many of these icebergs. On one of them was a white bear.
"Yonder is a strange pilot," Eric laughed.
"I have seen bears come floating so to the north shore of Iceland," an old man said. "Perhaps they come from the land that we are going to find."
One day Eric said:
"I see afar off an iceberg larger than any one yet. Perhaps that is our white land."
But even as he said it he felt his boat swing under his hand as he held the tiller. He bore hard on the rudder, but he could not turn the ship.
"What is this?" he cried. "A strong river is running here. It is carrying our ship away from this land. I cannot make head against it. Out with the oars!"
So with oars and sail and rudder they fought against the current, but it took the boat along like a chip, and after a while they put up their oars and drifted.
"Luck has taken us into its own hands," Eric laughed. "But this is as good a way as another."