adversary to one of the best known of England's knights.

But if Sir Gareth was young, if he was but little known, yet the skill
at which Sir Launcelot had marveled, stood him in good stead. This,
Sir Brian soon realized. As steel met steel, the older knight knew
that his adversary was no mean one.

So they battled for a time, neither of them gaining advantage over the
other. Great strength was Sir Brian's, but it was matched by skill and
quickness of thrust and parry.

Allan, a lone figure, the only one of the group assembled to stand for
Sir Gareth, watched the struggle with bated breath. This boy who had
seen men like Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram, Sir Percival and others of
almost equal repute, found his friend no less able and bold. Clenched
were his hands, tense the boyish figure, as with heart and soul afire
he watched the two knights.

But soon it became evident that unless untoward happening occurred the
outcome of the brave fight was but a matter of time. Slowly, yet
surely Sir Brian gave ground. Slowly but surely Sir Gareth pressed
him. All the cunning of his foe availed him naught. To the last Sir
Brian fought bitterly, silently. His heart held bitterness over the
probable outcome, over the youthfulness of the victor to be.

Now as he parried a bold stroke of the other, for each of them had
turned to swords long before, there came a flash of steel and Sir
Brian felt a great nausea overcome him. Then he knew nothing more for
a long time.