The unknown himself evidently felt this slight, for his gauntleted hand clenched itself as if it would crush the strong metal to powder, and the way in which he settled in his saddle told that he meant to make himself felt in earnest.
Both lances flew crashing into a thousand splinters; but through the whirling dust of the charge Huon’s helmet was seen to fly from his head high into the air, and he himself, after swaying dizzily to and fro for an instant, sank helplessly from his saddle to the earth.
Raoul growled a curse through his barred helmet, and pressed forward to avenge his fallen brother; but the terrible challenger (who seemed to gather fresh strength from every new course) met him with so fierce a shock that it smote down horse and man.
Alain, the eldest, was now left alone, and between him and the Black Champion lay the honour of the day.
As the unknown took his place for this final combat it was noticed that he bent his head forward, and seemed to look keenly at his opponent through the bars of his visor, like an eagle fixing its eye on the prey on which it is about to swoop; and all who saw the gesture judged that it boded no good to the swaggering Alain.
Nor were they mistaken. The two closed with the shock of a thunderbolt, and when the dust rolled away Alain was seen stretched on the earth, groaning feebly—as he well might, for the fall had broken his collar-bone and two of his ribs!
THE BLACK CHAMPION CONQUERS
The general shout which greeted his overthrow told that, in the judgment of the spectators, the young braggart had got no more than his due. But as the applause died away, from one of the galleries came a deep, strong voice, that of Sir Yvon du Guesclin—
“Ho, there! bring forth my war-horse quickly. I will try the mettle of this gay spark who hath overthrown my nephews.”