there was a twang from the wood; an arrow whizzed, and stuck hard
in his fur cap, stopping only at the steel of his helmet.

"This archer will deem my fur is of singular proof," he said to
himself, with the flicker of a smile, as he let a shaft fly in
return. He could see his foe move to one side, and heard his arrow
strike a branch. Instantly the man fired again, and this time
struck him on the breast, and the arrow, checked by the ring-mail
beneath, hung from his wolf-skin coat.

He smiled to himself again, and thought, "Never, surely, has that
bowman shot at so stout a garment. Yet he shoots hard and
straight. I wish not to meet with a stronger archer, and could do
well with a worse one now." And with that he took his shield from
his back.

His situation was indeed far from safe, and he had to come to some
instant decision. Standing in the open against the snow, he
offered a fair mark, while his opponent among the trees was hard
to see and harder to hit. To try to rush so good an archer, though
risky, would certainly have been his scheme, had he not strongly
suspected that this one man was set as a decoy to tempt him into
an ambush. His blood was up, and he vowed that run he would not at
any cost; and, in fact, flight was far from easy, for behind him
lay the stream, and in crossing he must expose himself.

It took him but a moment to turn the alternatives over in his
mind, and then he suddenly hit upon a plan. His shield was one of
the long, heart-shaped kind, coming to a point at the lower end,
and covering him down to the knee as he stood upright. He raised