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Einar hailed him, to all appearance innocent as could be. “Hey, Ormarr, out shooting? Let’s go together?”

Ormarr had no desire to go out shooting with Einar, but was curious to know why the other had suggested it.

“Then we can see who’s the best shot.”

This was irresistible. Einar was a proverbially bad shot with a gun, and Ormarr knew it. He made no protest, and they went on together.

Every time he fired, Ormarr brought down two or three birds. Einar got at the most one bird at a shot, and often sent the birds fluttering away with broken wings.

Nevertheless, Einar picked up all the birds that fell, and stuffed them into his own bag. Ormarr demanded his share.

“Oh, you’ve no bag, and there’s no sense wasting time tying your birds together at every shot. Wait till we’ve done.”

Ormarr had his suspicions, but said nothing.

After a while they came to a good-sized rock, with two paths round. Ormarr knew that the paths to the south was the longer.

“Let’s go round and meet on the other side. I’ll go this way,” he said, taking the northern path. And Einar agreed.