e art of the axe, gave him with the great end of his mast a homethrust a
little above the breast; then, bringing along the blow to the left side,
with a slash struck him between the neck and shoulders. After that,
advancing his right foot, he gave him a push upon the couillons with the
upper end of his said mast, wherewith breaking the scuttle on the top
thereof, he spilt three or four puncheons of wine that were left therein.

Upon that Loupgarou thought that he had pierced his bladder, and that the
wine that came forth had been his urine. Pantagruel, being not content
with this, would have doubled it by a side-blow; but Loupgarou, lifting
up his mace, advanced one step upon him, and with all his force would
have dashed it upon Pantagruel, wherein, to speak the truth, he so
sprightfully carried himself, that, if God had not succoured the good
Pantagruel, he had been cloven from the top of his head to the bottom of
his milt. But the blow glanced to the right side by the brisk nimbleness
of Pantagruel, and his mace sank into the ground above threescore and
thirteen foot, through a huge rock, out of which the fire did issue greater
than nine thousand and six tons. Pantagruel, seeing him busy about
plucking out his mace, which stuck in the ground between the rocks, ran
upon him, and would have clean cut off his head, if by mischance his mast
had not touched a little against the stock of Loupgarou's mace, which was
enchanted, as we have said before. By this means his mast broke off about
three handfuls above his hand, whereat he stood amazed like a bell-founder,
and cried out, Ah, Panurge, where art thou? Panurge, seeing that, said to
the king and the giants, By G--, they will hurt one another if they be not
parted. But the giants were as merry as if they had been at a wedding.
Then Carpalin would have risen from thence to help his master; but one of
the giants said unto him, By Golfarin, the nephew of Mahoom, if thou stir
hence I will put thee in the bottom of my breeches instead of a
suppository, which cannot choose but do me good. For in my belly I am very
costive, and cannot well cagar without gnashing my teeth and making many
filthy faces. Then Pantagruel, thus destitute of a staff, took up the end
of his mast, striking athwart and alongst upon the giant, but he did him no
more hurt than you would do with a fillip upon a smith's anvil. In the
(mean) time Loupgarou was drawing his mace out of the ground, and, hav