It was this sudden turning that saved the day. As the knight with the lance drove into the Abbot he was forced to take his aim a little off the straight line. The point of the weapon struck the Abbot a hard blow on the mail under his arm. His horse veered, half staggering but continued on his course. The knight found himself in a sort of a knot, for the shaft of his lance was twisted by the swerving of the Abbot’s horse and was almost torn from his grasp. The butt of it drove back and took him on the shoulder with such force that it was within a hair of knocking him from the saddle. Then the skill of the Abbot showed itself. As soon as his horse had steadied itself, he drove his spurs into its side. As fast as he could ride he made for the two knights who were coming up in the rear. He laid his hand upon his mace and held it in readiness by his side. The two knights, who had just witnessed the smoothness with which he had warded off the attack of the rider with the lance, now braced themselves to deliver him a blow that would end the fight once for all. They saw him coming down the middle of the road. They separated with a space between them wide enough to allow him to pass through. It was plain to be seen that they intended to let him into the trap so that they could attack him with one on each side. The Abbot sped on. Little by little he verged to the edge of the road. The two knights verged with him but kept the opening between them as wide as before. They came on and on. They drove their spurs into their horses. But the Abbot never altered his pace until he was within a few feet of them. Then he drew his left rein, sharply and with great quickness. The horse under him was as sure-footed as a mountain goat. He crossed to the side of the two assailants. When he was abreast of them he swung his mace a crashing blow on the head and shoulders of the nearest rider that shook him to his heel. From where we were standing we saw the man try to shift his weapon from the one hand to the other. We heard the clang of the mace upon the ringing steel. The knight fell forward. In his helplessness he tried to hold on by grasping the horse’s mane. But his strength was gone. His fingers clutched into the empty air and he sprawled like a sack of meal to the earth. The Abbot, after he passed these two, drew up with a jerk. He wheeled around before the last of the three men could think fast enough to make a move, and before the first knight (the one with the lance) was in position to return to the fray. It was now one against one. With all odds for the final victory in favor of the Abbot, he grasped his mace in his hand and was about to put spurs to his horse to make an attack.