upon his breast; but the smile had faded from his face.

"How do you feel now?" asked Mimer in a half-mocking tone.

"Rather strangely, as if cold iron had touched me," faintly
answered the upstart.

"Shake thyself!" cried Mimer.

Amilias did so, and, lo! he fell in two halves; for the
sword had cut sheer through the vaunted war-coat, and cleft
in twain the great body incased within. Down tumbled the
giant head and the still folded arms, and they rolled with
thundering noise to the foot of the hill, and fell with a
fearful splash into the deep waters of the river; and there,
fathoms down, they may even now be seen, when the water is
clear, lying like great gray rocks among the sand and gravel
below. The rest of the body, with the armor which incased
it, still sat upright in its place; and to this day
travellers sailing down the river are shown on moonlit
evenings the luckless armor of Amilias on the high hill-top.
In the dim, uncertain light, one easily fancies it to be the
ivy covered ruins of some old castle of feudal times.

The master, Mimer, sheathed his sword, and walked slowly
down the hillside to the plain, where his friends welcomed
him with glad cheers and shouts of joy. But the Burgundians,
baffled, and feeling vexed, turned silently homeward, nor
cast a single look back to the scene of their disappointment
and their ill-fated champion's defeat.