Torarin saw at once that no man here thought of making his weapon
ready for a deed of blood. He slammed the door again and would
have gone his way, but the host came after him. He asked Torarin
to stay, since he had come, and led him into the room.

Torarin sat for a good while enjoying himself and chatting with
the peasants. They were in high good humour, and Torarin was glad
to be rid of all his gloomy thoughts.

But Torarin was not the only latecomer to the feast that evening.
Long after him a man and a woman entered the door. They were
poorly clad and lingered bashfully in the corner between door and
fireplace.

The host at once came forward to his two guests. He took the hand
of each and led them up the room. Then he said to the others: "Is
it not truly said that the shorter the way the more the delay?
These are our nearest neighbors. Branehog had no other tenants
besides them and me."

"Say rather there are none but you," said the man. "You cannot
call me a tenant. I am only a poor charcoal-burner whom you have
allowed to settle on your land."

The man seated himself beside Torarin and they began to converse.
The newcomer told Torarin how it was he came so late to the feast.
It was because their cabin had been visited by three strangers
whom they durst not leave, three journeymen tanners who had been
with them all day. When they came in the morning they were worn
out and ailing; they said they had lost their way in the forest