The burly captain frowned and scratched his head, as though deliberating how to do a thing so foreign to his genius as the telling of a narrative.
"On a certain day you left us," he began.
"Well told indeed," cried Helgi, laughing, "an excellent beginning—no skald could do it better."
"Nay," replied Ketill, frowning angrily, "if you want matter for a jest, tell a tale yourself. Mine have been no boy's deeds."
"Take no offence," replied Helgi, still laughing; "tell your deeds of derring-do, and let Thor himself envy, I will undertake to make you laugh at mine own adventures afterwards."
"I will warrant your doings will make me laugh rather than envy," said Ketill. "But, as I said, you left us, and so we were left here without you."
"Nay, Ketill," interposed his tormentor, very seriously, "this story passes belief, impose not on my youth."
"How mean you?" exclaimed the black-bearded captain, wrathfully, his hand seeking his sword hilt.
"Peace, Helgi," cried Estein, who saw that his good offices were needed; "and you, Ketill, heed not his jests. He is but young and foolish."
"And slender," added the irrepressible Helgi, though not loud enough for Ketill to hear, and the stout Viking resumed his story, sulkily enough.