anner of Scotland quickly banished doubt as to which part;
that youthful warrior belonged; knights and yeomen alike threw
themselves in his path to obtain possession of so dear a prize. Followed
by about ten stalwart men of his clan, the young knight gallantly cut
his way through the greater number of his opponents, but a sudden gleam
on the helmet of one of them caused him to halt suddenly.

"Ha! Sir Henry Seymour, we have met at length!" he shouted. "Thou
bearest yet my gage--'tis well. I am here to redeem it."

"Give up that banner to a follower, then," returned Sir Henry,
courteously, checking his horse in its full career, "for otherwise we
meet at odds. Thou canst not redeem thy gage, and defend thy charge at
the same moment."

"Give up my charge! Never, so help me heaven! Friend or foe shall claim
it but with my life," returned Alan, proudly. "Come on, sir knight; I am
here to defend the honor thou hast injured--the honor of one dearer than
my own."

"Have then thy will, proud boy: thy blood be on thine own head," replied
Seymour; but ere he spurred on to the charge, he called aloud, "let none
come between us, none dare to interfere--'tis a quarrel touching none
save ourselves," and Alan bowed his head, in courteous recognition of
the strict observance of the rules of chivalry in his adversary, at the
very moment that he closed with him in deadly strife; and such was war
in the age of chivalry, and so strict were its rules, that even with the
standard of Scotland in his hand, the person of the heir of Buchan was
sacred to all save to his particular opponent.

It was a brief yet determined struggle. Their swords crossed and
recrossed with such force and rapidity, that sparks of fire flashed from
the blades; the aim of both appeared rather to unhorse and disarm than
slay: Seymour, perhaps, from admiration of the boy's extraordinary
bravery and daring, and Alan from a feeling of respect for the true
chivalry of the English knight. The rush of battle for a minute
unavoidably separated them. About four feet of the banner-staff yet
remained uninjured, both in its stout wood and sharp iron head; with
unparalleled swiftness, Alan partly furled the banner round the pike,
and transferred it to his right hand, then grasping it firmly, and
aiming full at Sir Henry's helm, backed his horse several paces to allow
of a wider field, gave his steed the spur, and dashed forward quick as
the wind. The manoeuvre succeeded. Compl