“Yonder youths seem to think little of this sort of thing,” he said to Karlsefin.
“You are right, Leif; it is mere child’s play to them. These are the two Scots—the famous runners—whom I was charged by King Olaf to present to you. Why, these men, I’ll engage to say, could overtake the Skraelingers even yet, if they chose.”
“Say you so?” cried Leif. “Do they speak Norse?”
“Yes; excellently well.”
“Their names?”
“The one is Heika, the other Hake.”
“Ho! Hake and Heika, come hither,” cried Leif, beckoning to the men, and hastening round the point, where the Skraelingers could be seen nearly a mile off, and still running as if all the evil spirits of the North were after them.
“See there, carls; think you that ye could overtake these rascals?”
The Scots looked at each other, nodded, smiled, and said they thought they could.
“Do it, then. Let them see how you can use your legs, and give them a shout as you draw near; but have a care: do them no hurt, and see that they do no injury to you. Take no arms; your legs must suffice on this occasion.”