They found him kneeling beside a trench-like trail, testing with his bared hands the condition of the snow that had fallen back into it.
"If this were a five days' journey north, I should declare them elk tracks," he said. "Snorri of Iceland shot many a one of them up there, last winter, which he thought greatly superior to any we have in Norway. I would give my head for another elk hunt." He remained gazing at the trail in pleased retrospection, which moved the two Greenlanders to say enviously that they had never seen an elk.
"You will find it sport when you do," the Sword-Bearer assured them. Then he came out of his musing and arose, once more Alrek the Chief, brief and purposeful. "They can scarcely be less than deer's, however; and they were made this morning. It is easier to find tracks than to find what made them, as it is one thing to sight land across drift-ice and another to land on it; but we shall have poor luck if we can not get our meat out of this."
Instinctively they fell again under his leadership, straightening as he rose and turning their runners in the direction he was facing.
"Certainly the snow could not be in better condition," Brand gave tacit assent, and reassured himself of the safety of the quiver at his back.
"I knew that we should have luck to-day, because I heard a wolf howl last night," Gard added, with a hitch to his belt.
Then they glided away, single file, under the white arches spanning the white aisles.