A burst of laughter from the chief cut him short.
“You don’t seem to be quite sure of what you mean,” he cried, “or to be able to say it. Come, come, prince, if the Hebrew claims a right to remonstrate because he is twenty years or so older than I am, surely I may claim the same right, for I am full twenty years older than you. Is it seemly to let your hot young blood boil over at every trifle? Here, let me replenish your platter, for it is ill hunting after man, woman, or beast without a stomach full of victuals.”
There was no resisting the impulsive chief.
Both his guests cleared their brows and laughed—though there was still a touch of exasperation in the Hebrew’s tone.
While the search was being thus diligently though needlessly prosecuted in the neighbourhood of the Hot Swamp by Gadarn, who was dearly fond of a practical joke, another chief, who was in no joking humour, paid a visit one evening to his mother. Perhaps it is unnecessary to say that this chief was Gunrig.
“From all that I see and hear, mother,” he said, walking up and down the room, as was his habit, with his hands behind him, “it is clear that if I do not go about it myself, the king will let the matter drop; for he is convinced that the girl has run off with some fellow, and will easily make her way home.”
“Don’t you think he may be right, my son?”
“No, I don’t, my much-too-wise mother. I know the girl better than that. It is enough to look in her face to know that she could not run away with any fellow!”
“H’m!” remarked the woman significantly.
“What say you?” demanded the chief, sharply.