advanced towards the baron. Sintram
the while was struggling in vain to make his way up the rock against the
masses of snow continually slipping down.

Joyful at a combat so long untried as almost to be new, Folko of
Montfaucon levelled his hunting spear, and awaited the attack of the
wild beast. He suffered it to approach so near that its fearful claws
were almost upon him; then he made a thrust, and the spear-head was
buried deep in the bear's breast. But the furious beast still pressed on
with a fierce growl, kept up on its hind legs by the cross-iron of the
spear, and the knight was forced to plant his feet deep in the earth to
resist the savage assault; and ever close before him the grim and bloody
face of the bear, and close in his ear its deep savage growl, wrung
forth partly by the agony of death, partly by thirst for blood. At
length the bear's resistance grew weaker, and the dark blood streamed
freely upon the snow; he tottered; and one powerful thrust hurled him
backwards over the edge of the precipice. At the same instant Sintram
stood by the Baron of Montfaucon. Folko said, drawing a deep breath:
"But I have not yet the prize in my hands, and have it I must, since
fortune has given me a claim to it. Look, one of my skates seems to be
out of order. Thinkest thou, Sintram, that it holds enough to slide down
to the foot of the precipice?"

"Let me go instead," said Sintram. "I will bring you the head and the
claws of the bear."

"A true knight," replied Folko, with some displeasure, "never does a
knightly deed by halves. What I ask is, whether my skate will still
hold?"

As Sintram bent down to look, and was on the point of saying "No!" he
suddenly heard a voice close to him, saying, "Why, yes, to be sure;
there is no doubt about it."

Folko thought that Sintram had spoken, and slid down with the swiftness
of an arrow, whilst his companion looked up in great surprise. The hated
form of the little Master met his eyes. As he was going to address him
with angry words, he heard the sound of the baron's fearful fall, and he
stood still in silent horror. There was a breathless silence also in the
abyss below.

"Now, why dost thou delay?" said the little Master, after a pause. "He
is dashed to pieces. Go back to the castle, and take the fair Helen to
thyself."

Sintram shuddered. Then his hateful companion began to praise
Gabrielle's charms in so glowing, deceiving words, that the heart of the
youth swelled