Seeing that Max paid no attention to him, Xit drew nearer, and stamping his foot furiously on the ground several times, made a lunge at him, screaming—“Sa-ha! sa-ha! sirrah,—to the combat!—to the combat.”
Still, Max did not notice him, but kept his small red eyes fixed on the gallery, expecting that something would be thrown to him. Enraged at this contemptuous treatment of his defiance, Xit snatched up his cap, flung it in the bear’s face, and finding even this insult prove ineffectual, began to prick him with the point of his sword, crying, “Rouse thee, craven beast! Defend thy life, or I will slay thee forthwith.”
Thus provoked, Max at length condescended to regard his opponent. He uttered a fierce growl, but would not perhaps have retaliated, if Xit had not persevered in his annoyances. Gesticulating and vociferating fiercely, the dwarf made a number of rapid passes, some of which took effect in his antagonist’s hide. All at once, Max made a spring so suddenly, that Xit could not avoid it, struck down the sword, and catching the dwarf in his arms, hugged him to his bosom. All Xit’s courage vanished in a breath. He screamed loudly for help, and kicked and struggled to free himself from the terrible grasp in which he was caught. But Max was not disposed to let him off so cheaply, and the poor dwarfs terror was excessive when he beheld those formidable jaws, and that terrible array of teeth ready to tear him in pieces. It had been all over with him, if Gog, who stood at a little distance, and narrowly watched the fray, thinking he had suffered enough, had not run to his assistance.
Grasping the bear’s throat with his right hand, the giant forced back his head so as to prevent him from using his teeth, while planting his knee against the animal’s side, he tore asunder its gripe with the other hand. Hairun, who was likewise flying to the rescue, seeing how matters stood, halted, and burst into a loud laugh. The next moment, Gog gave Max a buffet on the ears that laid him sprawling on his back, and Xit escaped from his clutches. As soon as the bear regained his legs, he uttered a low angry growl, and scrambled off to his cage. For a few seconds, Xit looked completely crest-fallen. By degrees, however, he recovered his confidence, and bowing to the gallery, said,—“I can scarcely with propriety lay claim to the victory, as if it had been for my friend Gog—”
“Nay, thou art welcome to my share of it,” interrupted the giant.
“If so,” rejoined Xit, “I must be pronounced the conqueror, for Max has acknowledged himself vanquished by beating a retreat.” As he spoke, the bear growled fiercely, and putting his head out of his cage, seemed disposed to renew the fight—a challenge so alarming to Xit, that he flew to Gog for protection, amid the laughter of the assemblage. Mary then arose, and giving a purse of gold to Sir Henry Bedingfeld, to be bestowed upon the bearward, took her departure for the palace.
As Xit was conversing with his friends, maintaining that he should have vanquished the bear, if Hairun had not most unfairly instructed the beast what to do, and offering to renew the combat on an early occasion, Lawrence Nightgall, accompanied by two halberdiers, entered the court, and approaching him, directed his companions to attach his person. Xit drew his sword, and called upon Gog to defend him.