One morning when she saw her husband taking out his bow and arrows she said:
“Where are you going now?”
“I’m going hunting,” he told her.
“Isn’t that just like you!” she cried. “You’re going off to have a good time hunting and you don’t give a thought to me who have to stay home alone with two stupid old people!”
“If I didn’t go hunting,” Helli said, “and shoot something, we’d have nothing to put in the pot for dinner and then you would have reason to scold.”
At that the woman burst into tears.
“Of course, as usual blame me! Whatever happens it’s my fault!”
Poor Helli hurried off, hoping that by the time he returned his wife would be in a calmer state of mind. He had small success with his hunting. He shot arrow after arrow but always missed his mark. Then when he had only one arrow left he saw a Grouse standing in some brushwood so near that there was little likelihood of his missing it.
He took good aim but before he could fire the Grouse said:
“Don’t shoot me, brother! Take me home alive.”