“Ay, that was their road at starting,” answered Biarne. “Are they not later than usual?”
“A little. We go to meet them.”
“Tell Olaf that I have kept the bear’s claws for him,” said Biarne.
The two women proceeded a considerable distance along the woodcutters’ track, chatting, as they went, on various subjects, but, not meeting the children, they became alarmed and walked on in silence.
Suddenly Gudrid stopped.
“Bertha,” said she, “let us not waste time. If the dear children have strayed a little out of the right road, it is of the utmost importance to send men to search and shout for them before it begins to darken. Come, we will return.”
Being more alarmed than she liked to confess, even to herself, Gudrid at once walked rapidly homewards, and, on approaching the huts, quickened her pace to a run.
“Quick, Swend, Hake, Biarne!” she cried; “the children must have lost their way—haste you to search for them before the sun goes down. Shout as ye go. It will be ill to find them after dark, and if they have to spend the night in the woods, I fear me they will—”
“Don’t fear anything, Gudrid,” said Biarne kindly. “We will make all haste, and doubtless shall find them rambling in the thickets near at hand.—Go, Hake, find Karlsefin, and tell him that I will begin the search at once with Swend, while he gets together a few men.”
Cheered by Biarne’s hearty manner, Gudrid was a little comforted, and returned to the house to complete her preparation of Snorro’s supper, while Hake gave the alarm to Karlsefin, who, accompanied by Leif and a body of men, at once went off to scour the woods in every direction.