“Can you on foot run down the hare, the deer, the bear, the wild-boar, or even the rabbit?”
“Not I. My legs are swift enough, though short, but they are not equal to that.”
“Well, then, as we have neither bow nor shaft, and my good sword would be of little use against such game, why waste our time and strength in the woods?”
“But we might find honey,” suggested Maikar.
“And if we did not find honey, what then?”
“Berries,” answered the little man.
“Berries are not nearly ripe yet.”
“True, I forgot that.”
“Say you did not know it, man,” interposed the captain with a laugh; “never be ashamed of confessing ignorance in regard to things that you’re not bound to know. Lead on, Bladud, we will follow. You know more of woodcraft than either of us. If it were the sea we had to do battle with I would claim to lead. On land, being only a babe, I freely resign the helm to one who knows how to steer.”
Agreeing to this arrangement, Bladud led his companions up the steep face of a cliff until a projecting ledge was reached, which was just wide enough to form a camping-ground with a perpendicular cliff at the back, and with its other sides so precipitous as to render the approach of enemies—whether two or four-legged—exceedingly difficult. By piling a few stones at the head of the path by which it was reached, they rendered it impossible for any one to approach without awakening the sleepers.