he
castle, and the invincible strength it seemed to be of, he suspected
some strange adventure to befall him; so, buckling close his armour,
which, on account of the heat he had loosened, and drawing his sword, he
climbed the mountain, when he espied, on a craggy rock, the headless
body of the Giant, on which the ravens and other birds of prey were
feeding. Then he approached the castle gate, when, what was his
astonishment to see a long procession of mourners come forth, with the
King of Georgia at their head; and, on inquiry, was told that the old
man mourned for his six daughters, whom he could by no means get changed
back into their natural shapes.

Saint Andrew, on hearing this strange tale, expressed his firm belief,
in language somewhat strong, that such things could not be.

Whereon the King and all his courtiers were highly indignant, and
numberless knights stepped forth, and challenged the stranger to mortal
combat. The lists were quickly prepared. Then the valiant Champion of
Christendom entered the arena, when the King, in company with many
Georgian lords, was present to behold the contest. Thrice had Saint
Andrew traced his war-steed up and down the lists, flourishing his
lance, at the top whereof hung a pendant of gold, on which, in silver
letters, was traced, "This day a martyr or a conqueror!" Whereon there
entered a knight in exceeding bright armour, mounted on a courser as
white as snow, whose caparison was the colour of the elements.

A fierce encounter followed; but the Georgian was defeated, and retired
in disgrace from the lists.

Then entered a knight in green armour, his steed an iron grey. Loud
rang their spears against their shields, fierce clashed their swords,
and clanged their battle-axes, till the Georgian warrior fairly took to
flight.

The third knight who entered wore a black corselet, and his huge
war-horse was covered with a veil of sable silk. In his hand he bore a
baton of mighty weight, and bound round with iron; but no sooner did the
champions meet than their lances shivered in pieces from the furious
shock, and flew high up into the air, when, alighting from their steeds,
they resumed the combat with their keen-edged falchions, the sparks
flying from their helmets as from a blacksmith's anvil.

The faithful Murdoch meantime looked on with anxious gaze, when he was
accosted by a little old woman of mean aspect, who had in vain tried to
obtain information from the othe