Sir Brian never appeared to have a chance against his gigantic adversary. What avails a cunning guard, when sheer strength beats it down, and when blow follows blow so rapidly and with such outrageous force, that the wiriest opponent has much ado to hop out of the way of them, leaving all attempt at retaliation out of the question for the present? In spite of Sir Brian's best activity, the giant's weapon several times reached his body, crushing the light plates of iron armour, and once or twice biting through them to the flesh. 'The caitiff must needs wax scant of breath ere long,' thought Sir Brian to himself, as he saw that steel flail flash up and down; but it was dangerous work waiting for that time to arrive. In a moment a blow fell upon his helmet, sheared away the left side of it, and grazed the scalp, so that blood rushed forth and made gory the knight's face and gorget. A little giddy from this shock, Sir Brian staggered, his knees bent, and his neck felt an inch or two shorter than was comfortable. Perceiving this, his enemy resolved to make an end of him forthwith; for there was no question of giving quarter in this fight, but one or both must never fight again. Grasping his sword with both hands, therefore, he poised it for a back-stroke into which he threw the whole force and weight of his body. Sir Brian, glancing dizzily up, saw the keen blade glitter above him; then down it came--but not all the way down! For in mid-descent it came in contact with a low-lying limb of the oak tree--nine inches thick of hard living wood--sheared through it to the last half-inch, and the hilt flew from the striker's grasp. His arms dropped to his sides, tingling to the shoulder. At the same moment Sir Brian had lunged forward with the strength of despair, and his rapier passed clean through the neck of the other, who fell backwards with a groan and a gurgle, breaking the rapier-blade short off in the wound. He never spoke a word, but bled like a bull, and in a few minutes was dead. Sir Brian Kildhurm leaned upon the fragment of his sword, recovering his breath, and staring at the red-bearded face of his dead enemy. 'So much for my Lady Ursula's sweetheart!' he muttered to himself.