Ormarr did not dismount. He rode straight up to the trader, and said:
“My father has given orders that his wool is to be weighed in at once.”
He spoke without the slightest trace of emotion; as if it were a matter of course that the trader should stop the weighing of any one else’s wool and attend to Ørlygur’s forthwith.
Bjarni again indulged in an erroneous inference: Ørlygur à Borg had stayed away because he feared his demands might be refused. And if “the King” himself thought that possible—why, then, it could be done!
A wave of joy swept over Bjarni. He felt as if he had already won a decisive battle against heavy odds. And his reply was given in a tone more overbearing than usual—though he regretted it the moment he had spoken.
“We can’t very well stop weighing in this lot now. What do you say, Sera Daniel?”
Sera Daniel said nothing at all. His friend Bjarni would have to carry the matter through without assistance.
Bjarni turned to Ormarr once more—the boy was still in the saddle—and adopting a fatherly tone, went on:
“But it won’t take very long, you know. If you start unloading the horses now, and get the bales undone, while we’re finishing this, there won’t be much time lost.”
But before any one could say more, a new development occurred. Ørlygur à Borg, on his snorting, fiery mount, Sleipnir, dashed into the stockroom.