There was a man with Thorbiorn Oxmain who was called Ali; he was a
house-carle, a somewhat lazy and unruly man.

Thorbiorn bade him work better, or he would beat him. Ali said he had
no list thereto, and was beyond measure worrying. Thorbiorn would not
abide it, and drave him under him, and handled him hardly. Then Ali
went off from his service, and fared over the Neck to Midfirth,
and made no stay till he came to Biarg. Atli was at home, and asked
whither he went. He said that he sought service.

"Art thou not Thorbiorn's workman?" said Atli.

"That did not go off so pleasantly," said Ali; "I was not there long,
and evil I deemed it while I was there, and we parted, so that I
deemed his song about my throat nowise sweet; and I will go to dwell
there no more, whatso else may hap to me; and true it is that much
unlike ye are in the luck ye have with servants, and now I would fain
work with thee if I might have the choice."

Atli answered, "Enough I have of workmen, though I reach not out to
Thorbiorn's hands for such men as he has hired, and methinks there is
no gain in thee, so go back to him."

Ali said, "Thither I go not of my own free-will."

And now he dwells there awhile; but one morning he went out to
work with Atli's house-carles, and worked so that his hands were
everywhere, and thus he went on till far into summer. Atli said nought
to him, but bade give him meat, for he liked his working well.