and waited in scornful silence; but in a moment Alwin also was
empty-handed.

"I do no murder," he panted. "Man to man we will finish it."

With lowered heads and watchful eyes, like beasts crouching for a
spring, they moved slowly around the circle. Then, like angry bears,
they grappled; each grasping the other below the shoulder, and striving
by sheer strength of arm to throw his enemy.

Only the blood that mounted to their faces, the veins that swelled out
on their bare arms, told of the strain and struggle. So evenly were they
matched, that from a little distance it looked as if they were braced
motionless. Their heels ground deep into the soft sod. Their breath
began to come in labored gasps. It could not last much longer; already
the great drops stood on Alwin's forehead. Only a spurt of fury could
save him.

Suddenly, in changing his hold, Egil grasped the other's wounded
shoulder. The grip was torture,--a spur to a fainting horse. The blood
surged into Alwin's eyes; his muscles stiffened into iron. Egil swayed,
staggered, and fell headlong, crashing.

Mad with pain, Alwin knelt on his heaving breast. "If I had a sword," he
gasped; "if I had a sword!"

Shaken and stunned, Egil still laughed scornfully. "What prevents you
from getting your sword? I shall not run away. Do you think it matters
to me how soon my death-day comes?"