When Jon rode up to the house at Holl, he found Brandur out by the
haystack. The old man was carefully groping his way around the
stack, feeling it on all sides and counting the strips of turf in so
loud a voice that Jon could hear him: O-n-e, t-w-o, three.

Jon dismounted and, going over to Brandur, saluted him with a kiss.

How are you? God bless you, said Brandur. And who may this be?

Jon of Bakki, replied the visitor.--Gudrun sends greetings.

Ah, yes. And how is my Gunna? Is she well?

She was well when I left home this morning. Now I am on my way back
from the meeting that was held to discuss the desperate situation--
you must have heard about it.

Yes, certainly. I've heard about it. I should say so! One can't get
away from talk of hay shortage and hard times. That is quite true.
Any other news?

Nothing worth mentioning, answered Jon. Nothing but the general hard
times and hay shortage. Every farmer at the end of his tether, or
almost there, no one with as much as a wisp of hay to spare, and
only a few likely to make out till Crouchmas without aid.

Too bad! said Brandur. Too bad! And he blew out his breath, as
though suffocating from strong smoke or bad air.

For a while there was silence, as if each mistrusted the other and