“My son, all men are lovely in my eyes,” replied the crone, and she looked at him with eyes that gleamed like the orbs of a cat in the darkness. “Do you know, I’m right glad you came this way. You look strong. Will you carry my parcels for me?”
“Certainly I will,” replied the Nugget cheerfully. “Where do you live?”
“My hut stands on the range yonder, on the other side of this bush. Dear me, how tired I am to be sure!”
How her cat’s eyes glowed as she looked at him! The Nugget did not see nor heed anything about the old woman; his whole thoughts were centred on the capture of his foe.
“Come, madam,” said he, “one good turn deserves another. Tell me where I may find the fellow I seek, and I’ll carry your goods and yourself on top of them.” [[24]]
“Oh, good youth, haste is a bad master. If you seek for Dusk in haste, you’ll never find him.”
“Dusk! Who’s Dusk, mother?”
“The dwarf you came to find,” she answered quickly. “Beware, he’s a cunning sprite.”
The Nugget laughed. “I should only like the opportunity to measure weapons with the cowardly little imp,” he said. “Have you seen him?”
“Yes; he passed this way not an hour ago,” she answered.