“You see,” he said, “the rock against which my poor hut rests.”
Then the old man referred to the advantages of the situation for supplying himself with food by hunting in the forest, as well as by cultivating the patch of garden beside the hut, until his visitor began to show signs of impatience, when he apologised for intruding his domestic affairs at such a time, and finally offered to join and aid the search party.
“Aid us!” exclaimed Gunrig in contempt. “Surely we need no aid from you, when we have the king’s head-huntsman as our guide.”
“That may be true, chief, nevertheless in the neighbourhood of my own hut I could guide you, if I chose, to secret and retired spots, which it would puzzle even the head-huntsman to find. But I will not thrust my services upon you.”
“You are over-proud for your station,” returned the chief angrily, “and were it not for your years I would teach you to moderate your language and tone.”
For a moment the eyes of the old man flashed, and his brows contracted, as he steadily returned the gaze of Gunrig. In his youth he had been a man of war, and, as we have said, his strength was not yet much abated by age, but years and deep thought had brought wisdom to some extent. With an evident effort he restrained himself, and made no reply. The chief, deeming his silence to be the result of fear, turned contemptuously away, and left the hut with his followers.
During this colloquy, poor Branwen had stood in the dark passage, listening and trembling lest her hiding-place should be discovered. She was a strange compound of reckless courage and timidity—if such a compound be possible. Indignation at the man who had slighted her bosom friend Hafrydda, besides insulting herself, caused her to feel at times like a raging lion. The comparative weakness of her slight and graceful frame made her at other times feel like a helpless lamb. It was an exasperating condition! When she thought of Gunrig, she wished with all her heart and soul that she had been born a big brawny man. When she thought of Bladud, nothing could make her wish to be other than a woman!
As she stood there listening, there occurred a slight desire to clear her throat, and she almost coughed. The feeling came upon her like a shock—what if she had let it out! But a sneeze! It was well known that sneezes came even to people the most healthy, and at moments the most inopportune, and well she knew from experience that to repress a sneeze would ensure an explosion fit to blow the little nose off her face. If a sneeze should come at that moment, she was lost!
But a sneeze did not come. The olfactory nerves remained placid, until the visitors had departed. Then she retreated to the inner cave, drew the grey shawl over her head, and awaited the development of her plans.
Presently she heard footsteps, and the voice of the Hebrew calling to her softly, but she took no notice. After a moment or two it sounded again, somewhat louder.