"Frankly, then, I don't want to carry the weight of the wolf-skin; I should feel like a man buried up to his neck in sand. I dreamed of that the other night, and how a raven that had Quinton Edge's face came and pecked at my eyes."
"Then you really don't care," commented Constans, shrewdly.
"No; except to have my fair share of the fighting and feasting—and, of course, Esmay."
Constans laughed. "You always come back to the girl."
"How could it be otherwise, since I love her?" said Ulick, simply.
Constans grew sober again. "Strange that it should be the same man, Quinton Edge, for whom we are both seeking. I can see, however, that my arrow must not leave the string until first you have had speech with him."
"But that is just what I cannot do," returned Ulick, with a frown. "It is a week now that any one has seen him, and yet neither galley nor troop has left the city since the new moon."
"He must show himself in time; we have only to wait."
"Waiting! it is the one thing——"
"Yet you must; the chance is certain to come. Only, if I help you in this, then afterwards when you have learned what you want——"