“Wilt thou then follow the banners of Gerda?--or would I forsake her?” said Ottur, in a hollow voice from his closed helmet;--“since these are questions that may never be peaceably answered betwixt us, let us straightway to our bloody work!--If thou wilt not begin the attack, I shall at all hazards hurl my spear against thee; and surely, since thou wear’st the semblance of Ottur, thou canst not prove a runaway and a coward!” “Heaven forbid!” answered the Knight of Trautwangen, who now drew down his visor, and prepared himself, like his antagonist, for the combat. For a little space thereafter, the two tall champions stood with their shields uplifted, and watching each other, when, lo! the Knight of Trautwangen beheld a new and strange assailant, who was rushing from the thickets against his adversary;--a wild bull, which had perchance been disturbed and enraged by the movements of the troops, came forth foaming, bellowing, and tossing his horns,--directing all his wrath against Ottur, whom he would doubtless have hurled from the precipice; for the youth seemed never to observe his approach. In a moment the Knight of Trautwangen sent forth his javelin with irresistible strength, and so correct an aim, that it passed clear over the head of his pagan foe, and struck deep into the neck of the raging animal, which immediately fell, wrestling with death, among the deep snow. “What meanest thou, Otto?” said the pagan youth, at the same time dropping his spear; “it is impossible that thou couldst have been so bad a marksman, as to throw the weapon over my head!--or, peradventure, thou hast done this but in mockery?”--Sir Otto made a signal that he should look behind him; and, on turning round, Ottur saw the wild beast with the arrow in his neck, which was now stretching his convulsed limbs in the last agonies of death. At this sight he paused, and at length, turning to the Knight of Trautwangen, he threw back his visor, whereupon the latter followed his example; and the sun, which just then rose, shone brightly on the features of both the young heroes. They looked at each other with kindness and confidence, till Ottur said,--“Shall we then exchange swords in token of good-will, though the fates forbid that we should march in the battle-field together?”--“Nay,” answered Sir Otto, “I dare not give away my sword; for it is a sacred pledge received from my father’s hand, otherwise it should be thine, and that right willingly;--but mark what I have now to say. If thou indeed lookest on me as a friend, then, for the future, let thy rapier be named Otto, in remembrance of me, and I, in like manner, will name mine Ottur.”--“Be it so,” answered the pagan; “I agree thereto with all my heart; and, methinks, thou art far wiser, and better able to afford good counsel than I am, although thou seem’st to be several years younger.”--“Ay, truly,” answered the Knight of Trautwangen, “thou lookest somewhat older than I am, though, in other