Then the captain, seeing there was nothing left but to fight, drew, and Feargus drew also his sword, but it was not his own blade; fiercely they fell to and the robber wrought with great might till Feargus drew back a pace and dealt a great blow, and the blade shore the robber’s helm clean through the side, leaving the head unharmed, but breaking itself nigh to the hilt, and the robber staggered from left to right as one drunk. Then Feargus was without arms, but, keeping still the broken hilt of the sword in his hand, he dashed at his antagonist, striking him full in the face; then wresting the sword from his hand, flung it across the burn and, lifting the robber, gripped him so hard that he cried out; then, running a few paces, hurled him into the flood nigh to where it took a mighty leap of many feet amid jagged rocks: and so no creature save the raven saw him thereafter. Feargus turned back to where the Pict stood awe-stricken at so fierce a fight, and he took his bow and bade him lead to the cave. Lightly he obeyed, and they entered, and there Feargus found his byrny and his great sword of wondrous temper and all that he had lost. Then the Pict told him they must get away lest the rest of the band should return from the neighbouring dales and find their captain slain. “And I will take what will serve me and fly, for they will not believe my story, and I will away into Galloway privily and find my kin and then will I come north to serve thee all my days, for the greatest of warriors art thou. Thou wilt find difficulty enough in fending for thyself and thy young friend else would I join thee.”