ming blasts of hate, rage, and despair swept his
heart as with a fiery whirlwind.

As Myles looked at the motionless, bleeding figure, his breast swelled
with pity. "My Lord," said he, "thou art sore wounded and the fight is
against thee; wilt thou not yield thee?"

No one but that other heard the speech, and no one but Myles heard the
answer that came back, hollow, cavernous, "Never, thou dog! Never!"

Then in an instant, as quick as a flash, his enemy spurred straight upon
Myles, and as he spurred he struck a last desperate, swinging blow, in
which he threw in one final effort all the strength of hate, of fury,
and of despair. Myles whirled his horse backward, warding the blow with
his shield as he did so. The blade glanced from the smooth face of the
shield, and, whether by mistake or not, fell straight and true, and with
almost undiminished force, upon the neck of Myles's war-horse, and just
behind the ears. The animal staggered forward, and then fell upon its
knees, and at the same instant the other, as though by the impetus of
the rush, dashed full upon it with all the momentum lent by the weight
of iron it carried. The shock was irresistible, and the stunned and
wounded horse was flung upon the ground, rolling over and over. As his
horse fell, Myles wrenched one of his feet out of the stirrup; the other
caught for an instant, and he was flung headlong with stunning violence,
his armor crashing as he fell. In the cloud of dust that arose no
one could see just what happened, but that what was done was done
deliberately no one doubted. The earl, at once checking and spurring
his foaming charger, drove the iron-shod war-horse directly over Myles's
prostrate body. Then, checking him fiercely with the curb, reined him
back, the hoofs clashing and crashing, over the figure beneath. So
he had ridden over the father at York, and so he rode over the son at
Smithfield.

Myles, as he lay prostrate and half stunned by his fall, had seen his
enemy thus driving his rearing horse down upon him, but was not able to
defend himself. A fallen knight in full armor was utterly powerless to
rise without assistance; Myles lay helpless in the clutch of the very
iron that was his defence. He closed his eyes involuntarily, and then
horse and rider were upon him. There was a deafening, sparkling crash,
a glimmering faintness, then another crash as the horse was reined
furiously back again, and then a humming stillness.

In a moment, up