"I don't usually carry that much with me when I come down into the low country, though—only to pay for what I need. I leave the rest of it hid back up there in the mountains."

"Why do you do it then?" Durnik asked. "Spend all your time looking for gold, I mean? You don't spend it, so why bother?"

"It's something to do." The fellow shrugged. "And it gives me an excuse to be up there in the mountains. A man feels sort of frivolous if he does that without no reason." He grinned again. "Then, too, there's a certain kind of excitement that comes with finding a pocket of gold in a streambed. Like some say, finding is more fun than spending, and gold's sort of pretty to look at."

"Oh, it is indeed," Silk agreed fervently.

The old gold hunter glanced at the she-wolf and then looked at Belgarath. "I can see by the way she's acting that you're the leader of this group," he noted.

Belgarath looked a bit startled at that.

"He's learned the language," Garion explained.

"How remarkable," Belgarath said, unconsciously echoing the comment of the wolf.

"I was going to pass on some advice to these two young fellows, but you're the one who probably ought to hear it."

"I'll certainly listen."

"The Dals are a peculiar sort, friend, and they've got some peculiar superstitions. I won't go so far as to say they think of these woods as sacred, but they do feel pretty strongly about them. I wouldn't advise cutting any trees—and don't, whatever you do, kill anything or anybody here.'' He pointed at the wolf. "She knows about that already. You’ve probably noticed that she won't hunt here. The Dals don't want this forest profaned with blood. I'd respect that, if I were you. The Dals can be helpful, but if you offend their beliefs, they can make things mighty difficult for you."

"I appreciate the information," Belgarath told him.

"It never hurts a man to pass on things he's picked up," the old fellow said. He looked up the track. "Well," he said. "This is as far as I go. That's the road to Balasa just on up ahead. It's been nice talking with you." He doffed his shabby hat politely to Polgara, then looked at the wolf. "Be well, mother," he said, then he thumped his heels against his pony's flanks. The pony broke into an ambling sort of trot and jolted around a bend in the road to Balasa and out of sight.

"What a delightful old man," Ce'Nedra said.

"Useful, too," Polgara added. "You'd better get in touch with Uncle Beldin, father," she said to Belgarath. "Tell him to leave the rabbits and pigeons alone while we're in this forest."

"I'd forgotten about that," he said. "I'll take care of it right now." He lifted his face and closed his eyes.

"Can that old fellow really talk with wolves?" Silk asked Garion.