" He nodded and
disappeared in the crowd.
Now it is written in the Saga of Eric the Red or that of Thorfin Karlsefne,
that nine hundred years ago when Karlsefne's galleys came to Leif's booths,
which Leif had erected in the unknown land called Markland, which may or may
not have been Rhode Island, the Skroelings--and the Lord He knows who these
may or may not have been--came to trade with the Vikings, and ran away because
they were frightened at the bellowing of the cattle which Thorfin had brought
with him in the ships. But what in the world could a Greek slave know of that
affair? I wandered up and down among the streets trying to unravel the
mystery, and the more I considered it, the more baffling it grew. One thing
only seemed certain and that certainty took away my breath for the moment. If
I came to full knowledge of anything at all, it would not be one life of the
soul in Charlie Mears's body, but half a dozen--half a dozen several and
separate existences spent on blue water in the morning of the world!
Then I walked round the situation.
Obviously if I used my knowledge I should stand alone and unapproachable until
all men were as wise as myself. That would be something, but manlike I was
ungrateful.
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