72 FOLLOW THE WHALE 



at the head of the valley and beyond the long, narrow, blue lake, is 

 there any brightness, for there hangs the bluish whiteness of the 

 glacier, depending like an immense glistening tongue from the 

 mighty snow fields above. Around it always is the brightness of re- 

 flection, so that even the dour rock faces of the mountainsides on 

 either hand seem lightened and the meadows on the valley bottom 

 shine vividly green. Looking up the valley is like looking up through 

 a window at the land of the Gods, a vista leading directly to Valhalla 

 itself. 



Then from far off down the fjord towards the sea and beyond the 

 first sharp bend which shuts off all view, because there the mighty 

 cliffs seem to curve and clash together, there comes a sound. It is a 

 steady rhythmical sound, a thudding interspersed with a creaking, 

 the sound of a fast-approaching boat. Rapidly it draws nearer and 

 louder as it is amplified by the walls of the canyon. Figures appear 

 out of the doorways of the big house; people come running down 

 the pastures from the mountainsides; a horseman comes galloping 

 down the valley from the lake; and children gather swiftly on the 

 stony, boulder-strewn beach. By the time the boat appears round 

 the bend in the fjord, the whole village is gathered on the shore. 



It is the skutaboat of Thorvald the Long with every man aboard 

 laboring at the oars, even three to an oar amidships, and Biarni the 

 Yellow standing in the bow holding a trumpet of cow's horn in his 

 hand. The oarsmen grunt as they pull in unison and Thorvald beats 

 out the strokes on the gunwale with his left hand and a club, while 

 with his right hand he feathers the steering oar. Now Biarni raises 

 the horn to his lips and gives a long-drawn blast. This is the an- 

 nouncement of something very important afoot and a call for all 

 men to come quickly. The crowd waves and the children shout. The 

 skuta drives up the fjord amid the surging sweeps of the sculls, and 

 Biarni cups his hands and yells, ''Seigval . . . seigval . . . seig- 

 val . . ." 



Now, all the boats had left before dawn to go down to the sea in 

 search of the cod which are running in great numbers inside the 

 islands and it is a full day's pull with the oars to the mouth of the 

 fjord and the open sea. Why is it, therefore, that the skuta of Thor- 

 vald the Long returns so soon, calling out that seigval, or cod whales, 

 are coming.^ Most of the people do not know, but some of the older 



