horse me this time."

"Did he indeed so say?" said Sir James. "Then belike he meaneth to
strike at thy helm. Thy best chance is to strike also at his. Doth thy
hand tremble?"

"Not now," answered Myles.

"Then keep thy head cool and thine eye true. Set thy trust in God, and
haply thou wilt come out of this bout honorably in spite of the rawness
of thy youth."

Just then Edmund Wilkes presented the cup of wine to Myles, who drank it
off at a draught, and thereupon Gascoyne replaced the helm and tied the
thongs.

The charge that Sir James Lee had given to Myles to strike at his
adversary's helm was a piece of advice he probably would not have given
to so young a knight, excepting as a last resort. A blow perfectly
delivered upon the helm was of all others the most difficult for the
recipient to recover from, but then a blow upon the helm was not one
time in fifty perfectly given. The huge cylindrical tilting helm was so
constructed in front as to slope at an angle in all directions to one
point. That point was the centre of a cross formed by two iron bands
welded to the steel-face plates of the helm where it was weakened by the
opening slit of the occularium, or peephole. In the very centre of
this cross was a little flattened surface where the bands were riveted
together, and it was upon that minute point that the blow must be given
to be perfect, and that stroke Myles determined to attempt.

As he took his station Edmund Wilkes came running across from the
pavilion with a lance that Sir James had chosen, and Myles, returning
the one that Gascoyne had just given him, took it in his hand. It was
of seasoned oak, somewhat thicker than the other, a tough weapon, not
easily to be broken even in such an encounter as he was like to have. He
balanced the weapon, and found that it fitted perfectly to his grasp.
As he raised the point to rest, his opponent took his station at the
farther extremity of the lists, and again there was a little space of
breathless pause. Myles was surprised at his own coolness; every nervous
tremor was gone. Before, he had been conscious of the critical multitude
looking down upon him; now it was a conflict of man to man, and such a
conflict had no terrors for his young heart of iron.

The spectators had somehow come to the knowledge that this was to be
a more serious encounter than the two which had preceded it, and a
breathless silence fell for the moment or two that the knights stood in
pl