long like this," exclaimed Helgi.

So thought Liot, and he bided his time with patience. He was
opposed, however, by one of the best and most determined swordsmen
in Norway, and Estein as well as any one knew the risk he ran. He
rained in his blows like a hailstorm; but fast though they came,
he was sparing his strength, and there was less vigour in his
attack than there seemed. He bent all his energies on driving Liot
back on the ring, shifting his ground as fast as his foe, heading
off his attempts to move round, and all the while watching keenly
for an opening.

"He wins, Ketill! he wins!" cried Helgi.

"Ay," said the black-bearded captain; "there is little skill we
can teach Estein."

As they neared the stones, Estein's onset became more furious than
ever; sword and shield had to shift up and down, right and left,
to guard his storm of blows, and all the while Liot was being
driven back the faster towards one place where larger stones than
usual had been used to make the ring. In vain he sprang suddenly
to one side; Estein was before him, and his blade nearly found its
way home. Two paces more Liot gave way, and then his heel struck a
boulder. For an instant he lost his balance, and that moment was
his last on earth. As the shield shifted, Estein's sword came full
on his neck, and it was only the bairn-slayer's body that fell
without the ring.

"Bring the spades!" cried Ketill--"a fitting enough epitaph for