So Prince Guthred caught up Edgiva in his strong arms and began to run, while Wulnoth threw a stone at the bear to make him turn his way. But the bear did not turn; perhaps he thought that two children were better than one--but he commenced to rush after Guthred, with great roars of rage; and Wulnoth ran after the bear, calling him a coward and a nithing, and bidding him stop and fight; and, as he ran, he unsheathed his stout knife and held it ready. It was the only weapon he had, and the stoutest hunters might have been forgiven if they had feared to attack such a monster with no better arms. But Wulnoth did not think of that. Edgiva must be saved, and he and that knife must save her. And just then Guthred caught his foot in a trailing bramble, and fell, and the bear was now very nigh them. But Wulnoth was also very near to the bear, running so swiftly that the blades of grass had not even time to bend beneath his weight before he had passed on, and the gleaming knife was ready in his hand. Now Wulnoth knew full well that the bear would not harm the others without first rising on his hind legs--for that is the way in which the bears always attack--and for that he was ready and waiting. The bear stopped with a clumsy jerk just as Guthred scrambled to his feet, and it opened its great paws wide to seize the boy. But Wulnoth was there, and he pushed Guthred aside and darted under the bear's paws, and buried his knife in its broad, hairy chest, once, twice, and yet a third time, swifter than the lightning plays or the adder darts. Then the bear roared, and strove to bite with its wide-open, slavering jaws, and it dug its long claws deeply into Wulnoth's back, and tore muscle and flesh to the bone. But that was all it could do. It had no strength left, and it fell on its side and struggled and died; and Wulnoth uttered a mighty shout of joy, and thought nothing of his painful wounds, for he had done a man's deed and had saved Edgiva and his friend the Prince. And Guthred and Edgiva came to him and strove to check the blood that dripped from his hurts, and the Princess would make him sit while she used her own scarf for this purpose. "Oh, Wulnoth!" cried Guthred, "surely here is the story already, for weakness has become strength, and you have conquered the waster while I fled like a nithing." "Wulnoth has been brave," said Edgiva, "but you have naught to grieve for, dear brother. As for the story, this cannot be it, for the sign of the thorn and the cross are not here." "Let us not worry about stories," laughed Wulnoth, and he was as happy as could be. Indeed, his only sorrow was that Guthred had not slain a bear also, so that they could have been alike. "Let us skin this monster and take his coat home for the Princess to have a rug for her feet."