“I am thankful to you,” said Art, jestingly; “but I’ll take a trial of you.”
They fought as before. The gruagach had twice the strength of the first day; and Art was knocking no quarters out of him, but suffering from every blow, his flesh falling and his blood flowing.
“I am not to last long,” thought Art, “unless I can do something.” He remembered his father and mother then, and how far he was from home; that moment the strength of two hundred men came to him. With one blow he swept off the gruagach’s head and sent it twice as far into the sky as on the first day; the body sank through the earth. Art stood at the place where the body had vanished.
When the head was coming down, and was near, he caught it and held it firmly by the hair; then, cutting a withe, he thrust it through the ears and, throwing the head over his shoulder, started for the castle of the King of Greece; but before reaching the old man’s cabin, he met three men and with them a headless body.
“Where are ye going?” asked Art.
“This body lost its head in the eastern world, and we are travelling the earth to know can we find a head to match it.”
“Do you think this one would do?” asked Art of one of the men.
“I don’t know,” said he; “it is only for us to try.”
The moment the head was put on the body, men, head, and body went down through the earth.