What - empty-handed? Don't be absurd. This is my chance at glory. Adulation. I'll return with a slain bear -

[ He grunts as he lowers himself down amongst the rocks, recovering that arrow. ]

Mikhail Ivanovich, I will name him. His pelt will make me a fine coat, and make the camp a fine stew. Admiration of the lovely women of our camp will follow - both of them - and wine, bottles of it, and then I will finally get properly drunk and properly laid. Marvelous vision, isn't it?

[ A few moments of blessed silence follow as he has to hold the arrow between his teeth so that he has both hands free to climb back up to William's level. Enjoy it while it lasts. ]