“Faith, then, I hope that time will never arrive then, my beauty,” answered the faithful Terence, making a spring, and leaping nimbly on the crocodile’s back. “It’s not exactly the sort of steed I’d choose, except for the honour of riding, but I’ll make him pay the piper, at all events;” whereupon he began slashing away with his trusty sword most furiously on the neck and shoulders of the crocodile. A delicate maiden might as well have tried to pierce the hide of an aged hippopotamus with a bodkin.
At last, losing patience, he sprang to his feet on the back of the monster, and plunged his sword into one of his eyes, just as he was about to make a snap at Saint Patrick’s thigh. The crocodile, feeling itself wounded, turned aside, when the Squire plunged his weapon into the other eye.
Thus blinded, and furious with pain, the brute rushed forward, snapping in every direction, and running against his master, caught hold of the calf of his leg with a gripe so firm that the Giant, groaning with pain, turned aside his proud looks to see what was the matter.
The opportunity was not lost on Saint Patrick, who, pressing forward, plunged his falchion into the neck of his antagonist, who, bellowing louder than ten thousand bulls, made a desperate cut with his battle-axe at the helm of the Knight. The Champion sprang aside, and the blow descended on the neck of the tame crocodile, whereby its head was severed from its body, Terence narrowly escaping from the effects of the blow.
The death of his favourite brute enraged the Giant still further; but rage invariably blinds judgment, and neglecting his proper guards, he soon found himself treated as he had treated the crocodile, his head, by a stroke of the Knight’s battle-axe, falling on the sand, while his eyes continued to roll most horribly, as if still animated with fury and malicious hatred.
The faithful Terence having found a huge brazen key, and a purse of gold, in the Giant’s pocket, and transferred the latter to his own, to be ready for future emergencies, Saint Patrick and he left the two carcasses to be devoured by the birds of the air, and proceeded to the Giant’s castle. The huge brazen key opened the castle gate; when entering, they wandered amazed through the spacious halls, and courts, and galleries, admiring the wonders there collected. In the armoury were numerous tall and straight trees of cocoa-nut and pine, with iron or steel points, which served the Giant as spears; his sword even Saint Patrick could scarcely lift, while near was another tree, taller than all the rest, with a cable at one end, and a hook bigger than a huge ship’s anchor, with which in his hand the Giant sat on a rock and bobbed for whales.
In the stables, instead of some vast horses, which they expected to find, capable of carrying so monstrous a being, they beheld rows of alligators and hippopotami, which the Giant was wont to harness to his brazen chariots when he went to war, or out a pleasuring; while, as no saddles or bridles were found, it was evident that he possessed no steed capable of bearing his ponderous weight.
Saint Patrick and his Squire, making themselves at home in the Giant’s castle, passed several pleasant days, while they recovered from the fatigues of their combat and refreshed themselves after their voyage. Then, that they might keep their own steeds ready for any emergency, they harnessed a dozen hippopotami, and as many tame crocodiles, to one of the Giant’s chariots, and so, with great comfort and convenience, proceeded on their journey. The canopy of the chariot was of azure silk fringed with silver, which sheltered them from the warm rays of the sun.
“Faith, this is pleasanter far than riding along over a dusty road!” quoth the Squire to the Knight, with that easy familiarity which the superior delighted to encourage in his faithful attendant. “What would they say in Old Ireland if they saw us two now a travelling along, quite at our ease, over the burning plains of Africa!” Whereat Saint Patrick made some suitable reply. But their pleasant conversation was cut short by the sounds of some terrible wails and laments, uttered by female voices, and at the same time of loud harsh voices and rude laughter, proceeding from out of a neighbouring wood, which they beheld before them. On this Terence whipped on the crocodiles and hippopotami with right good will, their own trusty steeds trotting behind till they arrived at the borders of the wood; when, securely fastening their chariot to a stout tree, they mounted their chargers, and dashed forward, in the direction from whence the cries proceeded.
Louder and louder grew the shrieks and lamentations, till the Knight and his Squire arrived at a spot whence, looking down into a sylvan dell, they beheld a sight which made their hearts melt with pity, and their blood run cold with horror. There, with the salt tears running down their cheeks, and their eyes imploring mercy and pity, they saw six lovely damsels, clad in green garments, bound to as many trees, while round them danced a hundred fierce satyrs, terrible of aspect, and hideous to behold.