horse. Once again he couched lance, and again he drove down upon
his bruised and wounded enemy. This time the lance struck full
and fair, and those who watched saw the steel point pierce the
iron breast-plate and then snap short, leaving the barbed point
within the wound.

Baron Conrad sunk to his knees and the Roderburg, looming upon
his horse above him, unsheathed his sword to finish the work he
had begun.

Then those who stood looking on saw a wondrous thing happen: the
wounded man rose suddenly to his feet, and before his enemy
could strike he leaped, with a great and bitter cry of agony and
despair, upon him as he sat in the saddle above.

Henry of Trutz-Drachen grasped at his horse's mane, but the
attack was so fierce, so sudden, and so unexpected that before
he could save himself he was dragged to one side and fell
crashing in his armor upon the stone roadway of the bridge.

"The dragon! the dragon!" roared Baron Conrad, in a voice of
thunder, and with the energy of despair he dragged his prostrate
foe toward the open side of the bridge.

"Forward !" cried the chief of the Trutz-Drachen men, and down
they rode upon the struggling knights to the rescue of their
master in this new danger. But they were too late.

There was a pause at the edge of the bridge, for Baron Henry had
gained his feet and, stunned and bewildered as he was by the