the men of Denby were proud of stout William of the Scar.

Then up spoke Sir Richard, gently. “Nay,” said he, “the youth is right; if the other dieth, he dieth in the wrestling ring, where he took his chance, and was cast fairly enow.”

But in the mean time three men had come forward and lifted stout William from the ground, and found that he was not dead, though badly shaken by his heavy fall. Then the chief judge rose and said, “Young man, the prize is duly thine. Here is the red gold ring, and here the gloves, and yonder stands the pipe of wine to do with whatsoever thou dost list.”

At this the youth, who had donned his clothes and taken up his staff again, bowed, without a word, then, taking the gloves and the ring, and thrusting the one into his girdle and slipping the other upon his thumb, he turned and, leaping lightly over the ropes again, made his way through the crowd, and was gone.

“Now, I wonder who yon youth may be,” said the judge, turning to Sir Richard; “he seemeth like a stout Saxon from his red cheeks and fair hair. This William of ours is a stout man, too, and never have I seen him cast in the ring before, albeit he hath not yet striven with such great wrestlers as Thomas of Cornwall, Diccon of York, and young David of Doncaster. Hath he not a firm foot in the ring, thinkest thou, Sir Richard?”

“Ay, truly; and yet this youth threw him fairly, and with wondrous ease. I much wonder who he can be.” Thus said Sir Richard in a thoughtful voice.

For a time the Knight stood talking to those about him, but at last he arose and made ready to depart, so he called his men about him, and tightening the girths of his saddle, he mounted his horse once more.

Meanwhile the young stranger made his way through the crowd, but, as he passed, he heard all around him such words muttered as, “Look at the cockeril!” “Behold how he plumeth himself!” “I dare swear he cast good William unfairly!” “Yea, truly, saw ye not bird-lime upon his hands?” “It would be well to cut his cock’s comb!” To all this the stranger paid no heed, but strode proudly about as though he heard it not. So he walked slowly across the green to where the booth stood wherein was dancing, and standing at the door he looked in on the sport. As he stood thus a stone struck his arm of a sudden with a sharp jar, and, turning, he saw that an angry crowd of men had followed him from the wrestling ring. Then, when they saw him turn so, a great hooting and yelling arose from all, so that the folk came running out from the dancing booth to see what was to do. At last a tall, broad-shouldered, burly blacksmith strode forward from the crowd swinging a mighty blackthorn club in his hand.

The men of Denby follow the stranger, reviling him.

The smith of Denby falls upon the stranger, but getteth more than he bargained for.

“Wouldst thou come here to our fair town of Denby, thou Jack in the Box, to overcome a good honest lad with vile, juggling tricks?” growled he in a deep voice like the bellow of an angry bull. “Take that, then!” And of a sudden he struck a blow at the youth that might have felled an ox. But the other turned the blow deftly aside, and gave back another so terrible that the Denby man went down with a groan, as though he had been smitten by lightning. When they saw their leader fall the crowd gave another angry shout; but the stranger placed his back against the tent near which he stood, swinging his terrible staff, and so fell had been the blow that he struck the stout smith, that none dared to come within the measure of his cudgel, so the press crowded back, like a pack of dogs from a bear at bay. But now some coward hand from behind threw a sharp jagged stone that smote the stranger on the crown, so that he staggered back, and the red blood gushed from the cut and ran down his face and over his jerkin. Then, seeing him dazed with this vile blow, the crowd rushed upon him, so that they overbore him and he fell beneath their feet.

Now it might have