The man reflects, stands on his long leg, keeps the other up in the air; it dangles a little.
"No," he replies. "Do you know what cargo she was taking in here?"
"No," I answer. But by this time I had already lost interest in the Nun, and I asked the man how far it might be to Holmestrand, reckoned in good old geographical miles.
"To Holmestrand? I should think . . ."
"Or to Vœblungsnaess?"
"What was I going to say? I should think to Holmestrand . . ."
"Oh, never mind; I have just remembered it," I interrupted him again. "You wouldn't perhaps be so kind as to give me a small bit of tobacco—only just a tiny scrap?"
I received the tobacco, thanked the man heartily, and went on. I made no use of the tobacco; I put it into my pocket. He still kept his eye on me—perhaps I had aroused his suspicions in some way or another. Whether I stood still or walked on, I felt his suspicious look following me. I had no mind to be persecuted by this creature. I turn round, and, dragging myself back to him, say:
"Binder"—only this one word, "Binder!"
