The face of the chief is sad. Would that his men could bear his grief for him, and they would willingly stand between him and death.
“Thank you, brothers—thank you,” replied the chief, as he leapt down amongst them; “but my woe is so deep that even your cheering voices cannot drive it away.”
“The chief, then, is in love—”
“And likely to lose his love, brothers, if you will not help him.”
“Help! Yes—yes—yes.”
“See you that castle there, below us, with the red sun full on it. She lives there—she lives there! If you love your chief, you will help him to bring her here—here to the mountains.”
“Yes—yes—yes!” replied a hundred voices.
“She would follow me anywhere; she will love the mountains for my sake. You will help me!”
“Yes—yes—yes.”
“Then let the night be our friend; when darkness has come we will storm the castle, and then she is amongst us.”