“Get away with you, d’you hear?” says Enok, coming closer.
Levion was choking and swallowing with anger. He cried out loud, “Remember that day in the fjord, when I caught you pulling up my lines? I twisted one ear off then....”
And that was why Enok went about with a kerchief round his head; he had but one ear. And both he and Levion had very good reasons for keeping quiet about the matter.
“You’re no better than a murderer, to speak of,” said Enok.
The priest’s boat was heard rushing in to land, and from the other side came the roar of the fire, ever nearer. Enok writhed, and tried again to make Levion retreat; he drew his knife—that excellent knife for cutting things.
Levion rolled his eyes and screamed out, “As sure as you dare come waving knives at me, there’s folk at hand already, and here they come!”
Enok put up his knife again. “What d’you want standing there anyway?” he said. “Get away with you!”
“What are you doing here yourself, anyway?”