"First work, then play!" he commanded, in a tone which permitted no opposition, and the Vikings directed their course further against the deserted town. Holmsten and the other sons of Atle had not bought anything but corn, honey, and wine. What they wanted in the shape of articles of luxury and clothes, they expected to get without further expenditure. It was plain that there was plenty to take in the town. A rich booty of ornaments, silks, clothes, precious stones, and other similar things was collected in bundles and carried to the waiting ships. When this had been seen to, Holmsten gave as many of his men as he could spare leave to go on shore. Now they could go and flirt with the girls if they liked. Holmsten remained on board and stowed away the booty. So Leif could not manage to go on shore, though he greatly wanted to see what was up there in the wood.
When sunset approached, and it began to be evening, Holmsten told Leif to go on shore and blow the signal with the horn for the crews to go on board. They had collected plenty of booty, and there was nothing more to wait for. Now they had been long enough on shore. Leif had from the ship marked a little height which lay apart, and from which the horn could be heard far around. Upon it he meant to stand and give the signal. The ascent to the height was covered with low bushes. In one of these bushes Leif's eye fell on a girl. He looked more closely, and knew her again. Her eye was soft and timid, and she was very young. Leif forgot what he had gone for, and remained with her. He cooled his hot face in the profusion of her dark hair, and lost himself. First he was taken with her extravagant wildness; then he was scared, and rapidly cooled off. When he left her, she wept. Leif went slowly farther up the ascent. When he reached the top, he set the horn to his mouth and blew hard. Its tones reverberated angrily over the landscape. Leif was depressed in mind by disappointment and weariness. It was not a pleasant weariness like that after a battle. He had toyed with the British girls, and dared not think of Helga. The remembrance of Helga was like a wound in his soul--a wound which he dared not touch lest he should tear it open. It must have time to heal, which it might by forgetfulness. He felt a great relief when they rowed out from the bay and set sail. He never wished to come here again. Up on the height a girl sat and wept. In self-defence he hardened himself. Let her weep! What was it to him? He was not hers, and she had sought him herself.