im, for he knew not where he was: and his low disdainful laugh
came back. 'Laugh he who wins,' thought I.

A gnarled and half-starved oak, as stubborn as my own resolve, and
smitten by some storm of old, hung from the crag above me. Rising from
my horse's back, although I had no stirrups, I caught a limb, and tore
it (like a mere wheat-awn) from the socket. Men show the rent even now,
with wonder; none with more wonder than myself.

Carver Doone turned the corner suddenly on the black and bottomless bog;
with a start of fear he reined back his horse, and I thought he would
have turned upon me. But instead of that, he again rode on; hoping to
find a way round the side.

Now there is a way between cliff and slough for those who know the
ground thoroughly, or have time enough to search it; but for him there
was no road, and he lost some time in seeking it. Upon this he made up
his mind; and wheeling, fired, and then rode at me.

His bullet struck me somewhere, but I took no heed of that. Fearing only
his escape, I laid my horse across the way, and with the limb of the
oak struck full on the forehead his charging steed. Ere the slash of the
sword came nigh me, man and horse rolled over, and wellnigh bore my own
horse down, with the power of their onset.

Carver Doone was somewhat stunned, and could not arise for a moment.
Meanwhile I leaped on the ground and awaited, smoothing my hair back,
and baring my arms, as though in the ring for wrestling. Then the little
boy ran to me, clasped my leg, and looked up at me, and the terror in
his eyes made me almost fear myself.

'Ensie, dear,' I said quite gently, grieving that he should see his
wicked father killed, 'run up yonder round the corner and try to find
a pretty bunch of bluebells for the lady.' The child obeyed me,
hanging back, and looking back, and then laughing, while I prepared for
business. There and then I might have killed mine enemy, with a single
blow, while he lay unconscious; but it would have been foul play.

With a sullen and black scowl, the Carver gathered his mighty limbs, and
arose, and looked round for his weapons; but I had put them well away.
Then he came to me and gazed; being wont to frighten thus young men.

'I would not harm you, lad,' he said, with a lofty style of sneering: 'I
have punished you enough, for most of your impertinence. For the rest I
forgive you; because you have been good and gracious to my little son.
Go, and be contented.'