divided minds concerning the adventure. "Floki spoke evil of the
country; but Herolf told the best and the worst of it; and Thorolf
said that butter dripped out of every blade of grass there." He was
a poet and his figure clove to him. "Therefore he was called Butter
Thorolf."

The first real settlers were two sworn brethren, Ingolf and Leif. They
went because they had made their own country too hot to hold them,
having in fact slain men in heaps. This had been on a lady's account,
Helga daughter of Erne. They had gone a-warring with Earl Atle's three
sons, and been very friendly until they made a feast afterwards for
the young men. At that feast one of the Earl's sons "made a vow to get
Helga, Erne's daughter, to wife, and to own no other woman." The vow
was not liked by anybody; and it was not, perhaps, the most delicate
way of putting it. Leif in particular "turned red," having a mind
to her himself. These things led to battle, and the Earl's son was
killed. Then the sworn brethren thought they had best go to Iceland,
and they did; but Leif took Helga with him. They left their country
for their country's good, and for their own good, too.

Having found your asylum, how did you choose the exact quarter
in which to settle? The popular way was that adopted by the sworn
brethren. "As soon as Ingolf saw land, he pitched his porch-pillars
overboard to get an omen, saying as he did so, that he would settle
where the pillars should come ashore." That was his plan. If it wasn't
porch-pillars it was the pillars of your high seat. Either might be
the nucleus of your house; both sets were sacred things, heirlooms,
symbols of your worth. You never left them behind when you flitted.
Another plan, and a good one, was to leave the site to Heaven.
Thorolf, son of Ernolf Whaledriver, did that. He was a great