him he heard the loose of the Dalesmen's bows.
Sooth to say, as he cast, he almost looked to see all that turmoil
clear away as a dream, and that he should see Elfhild falling with the
spear in her breast. But nought it befel: the gold-decked chieftain
took the spear under his arm, and he and his spear fell over clashing
and clattering down into the gulfs of the green water, and many of the
strong-thieves fell before the shaft-storm of the Dalesmen; but
therewith the foemen shot also, and some of the Dalesmen were slain
and divers hurt, but that abated their hearts no jot. But Osberne took
twelve shafts from out his quiver and nocked them one after the other,
and every time he loosed a man's life went away on the arrow-point;
but bitter was his wrath and his grief that he might not slay them all
and deliver his love. Many a shaft smote him, but the more part of
them fell off scatheless from the rings of Hardcastle's loom. Now were
many of the thieves slain; yet so fierce and eager were they, that the
more part would not draw aback, nay, some were so hungry for that
cruel slaughter of them that they heeded not the sundering of the
Flood, but rushed on as if there were nought between them, and fell
over into the boil of waters and were lost in the bottomless depths.

So fared the battle, and the ranks of the Dalesmen began to thin; but
Osberne had no thought of going back a foot's length, and his men were
so valiant that they deemed nought evil save the sundering of the
Flood. Osberne was hurt in three places, but not sorely; but Stephen
bore a shaft in his side, yet he stood upon his feet and shot no less
valiantly than erst.

But now all of a sudden the raging throng before them had some new
goings-on in it and began to sidle landward, and therewithal beyond
them rose a great shout, and therein the Eastdalers knew the voice of
their kinsmen, and they shouted all together in answer as they plied
the bow, and the strong-thieves turned about and ran yelling and
cursing toward the landward and the south-west, for the Westdalers
were upon them with spear and axe and sword.

That was the end of the shot-stour, and the aliens came never again
that tide under the shafts of the Eastdalers. But betwixt the kenning
of their dead and the tending of their hurt folk, they stood gazing
out anxiously over the field, if they might but see how the battle of
handy-strokes had gone, and by seeming right hard it had been; but in
a while