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white areas of unexplored territory on the chart. “Karlsefni, may we take this Skraeling, Odin, with us?”
    “No!” snapped the colonist. “I may need him as an interpreter.”
    They quickly abandoned that idea. There was some further discussion, of routine sailing plans, supplies, and water. Thorwald Ericson stated his intention to depart on tomorrow’s high tide.
    As the meeting broke up, an idea occurred to Nils.
    “Karlsefni,” he asked, “who is the tall woman with blue eyes and blond hair?”
    The colonist chuckled.
    “Ah, you have met Ingrid!”
    “Ingrid?”
    “Yes. You can take her with you, instead of Odin.”
    The others laughed, and Nils felt himself beginning to redden. He wished he had not inquired. The woman was apparently well known. But, he decided, since he had begun this, he might as well play it out to the end.
    “But who is she? Does she have a husband?”
    “Of course. Olaf, the cooper, poor bastard. A good, hardworking lad, to be treated so.”
    “Treated how?”
    “Like she treats him. Like dirt. She’s like a bitch in heat. Wanted you to take her away? I thought so. The woman is constant trouble. After a man like a dog on a bone.”
    Nils was embarrassed and a bit angry that he had been taken in by this wench. But no, there were two sides to any story. He thought of the tears, the pleading, and the warmth and feeling of those kisses. The girl really did have a problem, and he had promised to help her. He would do so, when the time came. On their return, when they sailed for Norway again, he would keep that promise. He would like to see her again, to talk to her and assure her that he planned to take her away. He would attempt to contact her before their departure. But meanwhile, he must think of other things.
    Thorwald and Helge were discussing navigation as Nils turned his attention back toward them. Helge was examining a small object that Thorwald had just handed him.
    “It can find north even in an overcast,” Thorwald insisted.
    “But how? How does it work?” asked the puzzled Helge.
    The object, which Thorwald had just taken from a soft leather pouch, was a flat stone, oval in shape and very thin. Its color was a dull gray, but it was almost translucent as Helge held it up to the light between thumb and forefinger.
    “What is it? I do not understand,” Nils asked, puzzled.
    “A
solarstein
,” Thorwald explained. “It sees the sun when we cannot. Come, I will show you.”
    The four men trooped outside.
    “Now,” announced Ericson, “it is easier to show with clouds overhead, but watch the sun-stone.”
    He held the stone above his face at arm’s length, the flat surface exposed to the sun’s rays. There was nothing special in evidence, except that it was apparent that the translucent stone allowed some of those rays to pass through. Then Thorwald began to rotate the disc slowly, the flat surface still facing upward. As the long axis of the oval began to approach the north-south position, Thorwald spoke again, his voice eager with excitement.
    “Now watch!”
    There was a subtle change in the color of the stone, a bluish tint that seemed to grow in intensity as he continued to rotate it, ever so slowly. When the stone pointed due north, the blue color had actually become a glow, an exciting, living thing that caused Nils to gasp in astonishment. Karlsefni crossed himself.
    “Magic!” he muttered.
    “No,” insisted Thorwald Ericson, “not magic. The stone is aligned to the north, just as the Polestar is. The sun tells when it is right. When it is not, the stone is gray.”
    “But it works even in cloudy weather?” Helge asked.
    “Yes. It is better then, because there are no shadows. It takes only enough daylight to light the stone.”
    Thorwald was elated at the success of his demonstration.
    “See how this will aid navigation?”
    Helge, too, was becoming enthusiastic.
    “Where can I get one?” he demanded.
    Thorwald chuckled.
    “Helge, I give you this