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The Men.
[All talking together.] And I will have—I will have[The rest becomes indistinct in the hubbub.
Paul Flida.
Away! Every man to his quarters; bethink you that you are in the King's hall.
The Men.
Ay, ay—hail to the King, hail to King Skule!
King Skule.
To bed now, good fellows! We have sat long over the drinking-table to-night.
A Man-at-Arms.
[As the crowd is trooping out.] To-morrow we will cast lots for the Birchlegs' goods. Another. Rather leave it to luck! Several. Nay, nay! Others. Ay, ay! Bård Bratte. Now the Wolf-skins are fighting for the bear-*fell. Paul Flida. And they have yet to fell the bear.
[All go out by the back.
King Skule. [Waits till the men are gone; the tension of
