“Cael, my pulse,” said the Carl, “we had better build a house or a hut to pass the night in.”
“I’Il build nothing,” Cael replied, looking on the Carl with great disfavour.
“No!”
“I won’t build house or hut for the sake of passing one night here, for I hope never to see this place again.”
“I’Il build a house myself,” said the Carl, “and the man who does not help in the building can stay outside of the house.”
The Carl stumped to a near-by wood, and he never rested until he had felled and tied together twenty-four couples of big timber. He thrust these under one arm and under the other he tucked a bundle of rushes for his bed, and with that one load he rushed up a house, well thatched and snug, and with the timber that remained over he made a bonfire on the floor of the house.
His companion sat at a distance regarding the work with rage and aversion.
“Now Cael, my darling,” said the Carl, “if you are a man help me to look for something to eat, for there is game here.”
“Help yourself,” roared Cael, “for all that I want is not to be near you.”
“The tooth that does not help gets no helping,” the other replied.