champion."

"Thank God!" said the yeoman. "I will do it at once; I will guard thy
coat and shoes and good steed safely--and may Jesus Christ speed thee
well!"

Gamelyn Enters

When Gamelyn entered the ring, barefooted and stripped for wrestling,
all men gazed curiously at the rash youth who dared to challenge the
stalwart champion, and the great man himself, rising from the ground,
strolled across to meet Gamelyn and said haughtily: "Who is thy
father, and what is thy name? Thou art, forsooth, a young fool to come
here!"

Gamelyn answered equally haughtily: "Thou knewest well my father while
he lived: he was Sir John of the Marches, and I am his youngest son,
Gamelyn."

The champion replied: "Boy, I knew thy father well in his lifetime,
and I have heard of thee, and nothing good: thou hast always been in
mischief."

"Now I am older thou shalt know me better," said Gamelyn.

Defeats the Champion

The wrestling had lasted till late in the evening, and the moon was
shining on the scene when Gamelyn and the champion began their
struggle. The wrestler tried many wily tricks, but the boy was ready
for them all, and stood steady against all that his opponent could do.
Then, in his turn, he took the offensive, grasped his adversary round
the waist, and cast him so heavily to the ground that three ribs were
broken, and his left arm. Then the victor said mockingly:

"Shall we count that a cast, or not reckon it?"

"By heaven! whether it be one or no, any man in thy hand will never
thrive," said the champion painfully.

The yeoman, who had watched the match with great anxiety, now broke
out with blessings: "Blessed be thou, young sir, that ever thou wert
born!" and now taunting the fallen champion, said: "It was young
'Mischief' who taught thee this game."

"He is master of us all," said the champion. "In all my years of
wrestling I have never been mishandled so cruelly."

Now the victor stood in the ring, ready for more wrestling, but no man
would venture to compete with him, and the two judges who kept order
and awarded the prizes bade him retire, for no other competitor could
be found to face him.

But he was a little disappointed at this easy victory. "Is the fair
over? Why, I have not half sold my wares," he said.

The champion was still capable of grim jesting. "Now, as I value my
life, any purchaser of your wares is a fool; you sell so dearly."

"Not at all," broke in the yeoman; "you have bought