Evidently Thorar knew nothing of the message, and Estein became
silent again.

They were gradually approaching a dark forest, which stretched
from the edge of the lake inland, and latish in the afternoon they
entered it by a narrow, rutty road. Darkness closed in fast as
they wound their way through the wood. The air grew colder and
colder, till their hands and faces tingled with the frost. Silence
fell upon them, and for some time nothing could be heard but the
occasional clash of steel and the continual creaking of snow and
breaking of dead branches under foot. Then a hum of voices came to
them fitfully, and at last the path opened into a wide glade.

"We are almost there," said Thorar. "Smile not, Estein, at our
rude hospitality; or, if you do, let our welcome make amends."

A young moon had just risen above the trees, and by its pale light
they saw a small village at the end of the glade. Many lights
flashed, and a babel of voices chattered and shouted as they
approached.

"All King Bue's men have not fled, it seems," Helgi said in a low
voice.

Estein made no reply, but the two foster-brothers fell back, and
placing themselves at the head of their twenty followers, entered
the little village. They found that it consisted of a few mean
houses clustered outside a high wooden stockade. Thorar led them
up to a gateway in this fence, and crying, "Welcome, Estein!"