fell wounded to death, and in falling brought his rider with him to the
ground; others again crushed their foes under them in their death-fall.
Folko rushed through--he and his war-steed unwounded--followed by
a troop of chosen knights. Already were they falling into
disorder--already were Biorn's warriors giving shouts of victory--when
a troop of horse, headed by Jarl Eric himself, advanced against the
valiant baron; and whilst his Normans, hastily assembled, assisted
him in repelling this new attack, the enemy's infantry were gradually
forming themselves into a thick mass, which rolled on and on. All these
movements seemed caused by a warrior whose loud piercing shout was in
the midst. And scarcely were the troops formed into this strange
array, when suddenly they spread themselves out on all sides, carrying
everything before them with the irresistible force of the burning
torrent from Hecla.

Biorn's soldiers, who had thought to enclose their enemies, lost courage
and gave way before this wondrous onset. The knight himself in vain
attempted to stem the tide of fugitives, and with difficulty escaped
being carried away by it.

Sintram stood looking on this scene of confusion with mute indignation;
friends and foes passed by him, all equally avoiding him, and dreading
to come in contact with one whose aspect was so fearful, nay, almost
unearthly, in his motionless rage. He aimed no blow either to right or
left; his powerful battle-axe rested in his hand; but his eyes flashed
fire, and seemed to be piercing the enemy's ranks through and through,
as if he would find out who it was that had conjured up this sudden
warlike spirit. He succeeded. A small man clothed in strange-looking
armour, with large golden horns on his helmet, and a long visor
advancing in front of it, was leaning on a two-edged curved spear, and
seemed to be looking with derision at the flight of Biorn's troops as
they were pursued by their victorious foes. "That is he," cried Sintram;
"he who will drive us from the field before the eyes of Gabrielle!" And
with the swiftness of an arrow he flew towards him with a wild shout.
The combat was fierce, but not of long duration. To the wondrous
dexterity of his adversary, Sintram opposed his far superior size; and
he dealt so fearful a blow on the horned helmet, that a stream of blood
rushed forth, the small man fell as if stunned, and after some frightful
convulsive movements, his limbs appeared to stiffen