weary. And one of
the women, still panting with the dance, spake as she looked on the
loveliness of her limbs, which one of the swains was caressing:
"Brother," said she, "great strokes thou smitest; when wilt thou have
smitten the last of them, and come to our house again?"

"Not for many days, fair sister," said he, without looking up.

"Alas that thou shouldst talk so," said a carle, rising up from the warm
sand; "what shall all thy toil win thee?"

Spake Hallblithe: "Maybe a merry heart, or maybe death."

At that word they all rose up together, and stood huddled together like
sheep that have been driven to the croft-gate, and the shepherd hath left
them for a little and they know not whither to go. Little by little they
got them to the wain and harnessed their beasts thereto, and departed
silently by the way that they had come; but in a little time Hallblithe
heard their laughter and merry speech across the flowery meadows. He
heeded their departure little, but went on working, and worked the sun
down, and on till the stars began to twinkle. Then he went home to his
house in the wood, and slept and dreamed not, and began again on the
morrow with a good heart.

To be short, no day passed that he wrought not his full tale of work, and
the days wore, and his ship-wright's work throve. Often the folk of that
house, and from otherwhere round about, came down to the strand to watch
him working. Nowise did they wilfully hinder him, but whiles when they
could get no talk from him, they would speak of him to each other,
wondering that he should so toil to sail upon the sea; for they loved the
sea but little, and it soon became clear to them that he was looking to
nought else: though it may not be said that they deemed he would leave
the land for ever. On the other hand, if they hindered him not, neither
did they help, saving when he prayed them for somewhat which he needed,
which they would then give him blithely.

Of the Sea-eagle and his damsel, Hallblithe saw nought; whereat he was
well content, for he deemed it of no avail to make a second sundering of
it.

So he worked and kept his heart up, and at last all was ready; he had
made him a mast and a sail, and oars, and whatso-other gear there was
need of. So then he thrust his skiff into the sea on an evening whenas
there were but two carles standing by; for there would often be a score
or two of folk. These two smiled on him and bespake him kindly, but
wo