"Don't talk to me about Grettir," said Gisli; "I've had battles with harder men than he. I hope he may came in my way, that I may dress his skin for him."
The farmer to whom he said this shook his head. "You don't know of whom you are speaking. If you were to kill him you would be well off,—six marks of silver were set on his head, and Thorir of Garth has added three more, so that there stand on him nine marks of silver."
"All things can be done for money," said Gisli; "and as I am a merchant I'll see to it. And when we meet—I'll dress his skin for him."
The farmer said it would be well not to talk about the matter. Gisli agreed. "I will abide this winter in Snowfell-ness," he said. "If his lair is on my road thither I'll look out for him, and dress his skin as I go along."
Now, whether he talked in spite of the caution given him, or whether some one overheard what he said, who was a friend of Biorn of Holm, is uncertain. Any how Gisli's threat reached the ears of Biorn, who at once warned Grettir to be on his guard against the merchant.
"If he comes your way," said Biorn, "teach him a lesson; but don't kill him."
"No," said Grettir with a grim smile, "I'll merely dress his skin for him."
Now it happened one day that Grettir was looking out of the entrance to his lair, when he saw a man with two attendants riding along the highway. His kirtle was of scarlet, and his helmet and shield flashed in the sun. Then it occurred to him that this must be the dandified Gisli, of whom he had heard, so he came running down the shale descent to the road. He reached the man, and at once he went to his horse, clapped his hand on a bundle of clothes behind the saddle, and said, "This I am going to take."
"Nay, not so," answered Gisli, for it was he. "You do not know whom you are addressing."
"Nor do I care," said Grettir. "I have little respect for persons. I am in poor and lowly condition myself, so low that I am driven to be a highway robber."