But Sir Gareth seemed to take no note of this. "I seek, Sir Brian, to find a youth who accompanied us. His name is Breunor le Noire, and he seemed to have met with foul adventure." "Not foul, Sir Gareth, but only such as is meet for all of King Arthur's henchmen." "Then, I take it, you know of him and of his whereabouts," said Sir Gareth. Still was his manner mild, yet forked lightning seemed to flash from his eyes. "That we do," replied the other. "He is indeed in safe keeping, such keeping being no other than ours." "I must trouble you, Sir Knight, to make return of him to us." "And if I will not?" questioned Sir Brian. Insolence was in his tone, a sneering smile was on his lips. "I take it, if you will not release him you will fight me as would any honorable knight." "That will I. Right gladly and to the uttermost, Sir Gareth. For all knights of the Round Table, I am sworn foe." Then there began a battle such as there was seldom seen. Confidence was in Sir Brian's every move, and truly it would seem that this young knight, still unknown in the field of chivalry, was but a poor adversary to one of the best known of England's knights. But if Sir Gareth was young, if he was but little known, yet the skill at which Sir Launcelot had marveled, stood him in good stead. This, Sir Brian soon realized. As steel met steel, the older knight knew that his adversary was no mean one. So they battled for a time, neither of them gaining advantage over the other. Great strength was Sir Brian's, but it was matched by skill and quickness of thrust and parry. Allan, a lone figure, the only one of the group assembled to stand for Sir Gareth, watched the struggle with bated breath. This boy who had seen men like Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram, Sir Percival and others of almost equal repute, found his friend no less able and bold. Clenched were his hands, tense the boyish figure, as with heart and soul afire he watched the two knights. But soon it became evident that unless untoward happening occurred the outcome of the brave fight was but a matter of time. Slowly, yet surely Sir Brian gave ground. Slowly but surely Sir Gareth pressed him. All the cunning of his foe availed him naught. To the last Sir Brian fought bitterly, silently. His heart held bitterness over the probable outcome, over the youthfulness of the victor to be. Now as he parried a bold stroke of the other, for each of them had turned to swords long before, there came a flash of steel and Sir Brian felt a great nausea overcome him. Then he knew nothing more for a long time. He came to later. Eager hands were ministering to him. Feebly he turned, not knowing for the moment why all of this should be. Then his eyes beheld the victor and the boy next to him and he realized what had taken place. "Sir Gareth," he murmured, as his knights moved aside in response to the weak gesture of his hand, "yours are a victor's spoils. Well have you fought and won."