"Nay, by my body, but this is ungenerous of you, forester," cried the tall man. "I have only a stick and you have a bow! If we are to fight, surely you might fight fairly."
Again the youth laughed brightly. "Nay, by my inches, friend," replied he, "but how can we fight fairly with staves when you are so much the bigger?"
"Cut yourself a longer cudgel, friend," retorted the big fellow.
The youth threw down his bow, and, opening a knife which hung at his waist, went forthwith towards the nearest bush. He cut himself a stout ash staff and fell to trimming it deftly.
When it was complete he came coolly up to his foe.
"Make ready, friend," said he, giving his cudgel a twirl. "Now take tune from me. One, two——"
"Three!" roared the giant, smiting at him instantly.
The fight was a long one, for the youth had such skill and so ready a guard that the other but wasted his anger on him. This "stripling" jumped from one side to the other so lightly and unexpectedly, and parried each thrust so surely, that presently the giant relaxed a little from the fury of his onslaught. Then the youth ran in and gave him such a crack as to make the welkin ring.
"By my life, but you can hit hard!" cried the giant, dropping his stick that he might rub his pate. "For so small a man that was a right hearty blow." He picked up his stick again. "Fall to, spitfire. I am ready!"
They sparred for a minute longer, and then the giant had his chance. He caught the jumping youth so sound a thwack as to send him flying over the low parapet of the bridge far into the bubbling brook. "How now, spitfire? Have you had enough?"