"And what can you do?" asked Utgard-Loki, looking at Thialfi.

"I can run," said the youth.

"We shall soon see about that. Let us go outside to the course."

The whole company went forth to a level stretch of plain. A slim youth whom they called Hugi took his place beside Thialfi. The latter, who had never been beaten in swiftness, smiled confidently.

The word was given. The two runners were off like arrows from the bow. But Thialfi could hardly credit his eyes when, before he had covered half the distance to the turning-point, he met Hugi coming back already.

"You will have to ply your legs better than that," said Utgard-Loki, "if you expect to win in this company."

A second course was run. Thialfi strained every nerve and muscle to the utmost. His heart beat as if it would burst through his ribs. Yet Hugi reached the goal when he was still a bowshot off.

"You run bravely," remarked the king. "Still, it seems to me this match will not be yours. The third trial must decide."

Once more they toed the mark and sped away. Thialfi did his best, but he was wearied with his last effort; his swift adversary crossed the finish line ere he had quite gone halfway.

The whole assemblage declared there was no need of further trial. Utgard-Loki turned to Thor.

"We have heard much of your prowess, Asa. What is your choice to prove to us that rumor's tales are true?"

"I will drink a draught with any of you," growled Thor between his teeth.

"Excellent," returned the king. He led the way back into the hall, and bade his cup-bearer bring the drinking-horn. It was borne forth.

"A good drinker," remarked Utgard-Loki, "empties this at a single draught. Some men make two of it. The puniest of all can take it off in three."

Thor looked at the horn critically. It did not appear of extra size, though the end stretched away behind the bearer. Moreover, he was very thirsty. So little doubt had he of emptying it at a draught, that he did not pause to take breath, but set it to his lips and pulled long and deeply.

He set it down with a clatter, thinking to ask for more. To his chagrin, he could hardly perceive any lowering of the liquor.

"Well!" exclaimed the king. "Surely that is not much for Asa-Thor to boast of. I would not have believed it if it had been told me. Perhaps, though, you were saving yourself for a second draught."

Without answering, Thor seized the horn once more and quaffed a mighty draught. Yet on looking in, it seemed as if he had made less impression than before. Still the vessel could now be carried without spilling.

The king shook his head. "A man must use his own sort of skill. Certainly, though, you have left most of the task for your last attempt. I fear your reputation here will hardly match what you have in Asgard if this is a sample of your prowess."

Too angry to speak now, Thor grasped the horn again. Tilting it back, he drank and drank till he thought he would burst with the effort. But when he could do nothing more, he found he had emptied only the top inch or two.

He handed the horn back to the cup-bearer.

"I see plainly," said Utgard-Loki, "that what we have heard of you was a traveller's tale. Still, do you wish to try something else? I confess it does not seem likely that you will bear away many prizes here."

"I know," Thor replied doggedly, "that such draughts would not be accounted small among the Æsir—but I will attempt another feat. What have you to propose?"

"We have a game here, a sort of childish exercise. Before witnessing this last performance, I would scarce have dared mention it to Asa-Thor. It is merely lifting my cat from the floor."

A large gray cat walked out, its tail held high.

Thor looked at it, uncertain.

"He is large—for a cat," said the king.

Stung to the quick, Thor stepped forward, put a hand under the beast's belly and lifted hard.

The cat arched his back, not resisting at all. Heave and strain as he might, Thor could only get one paw off the floor.

"I imagined as much," said Utgard-Loki. "Even my cat is too large for such a little one."

"Little I may be," cried Thor. "Yet let me see the man here who will wrestle with me at this moment."

Utgard-Loki looked at the massive figures ranged along the benches.

"I see no one small enough for that. If you must wrestle, however—call old Elli, the nurse. She has thrown many a better man than you have yet proved yourself."

In came a bent, withered, toothless old crone. At the king's bidding, she grappled with the aroused Thor.

Violently he strove, till the muscles on his arms and legs stood out like ropes. Locking his mighty arms, he strained this way and that. The more he put forth his power, the firmer did the frail old woman seem to stand.

Then Thor began to feel an inexorable grip tightening upon himself. He struggled as if his very life hung on the issue. Yet his legs began to bend. Presently he was forced down upon one knee.

Old Elli released him and hobbled off. With heaving breast, dripping sweat, and vastly ashamed, Thor stood up before them.

"We need hardly further trial," said Utgard-Loki. "Besides, it grows late. Show them to the guest seats."

They were made welcome, and feasted that night with good cheer.

Next morning they prepared to depart. Utgard-Loki saw that they were bountifully provided with food and drink. He himself conducted them to the gate of the city.

"Well, Asa-Thor," said he, as they were about to separate, "are you satisfied with your visit to Utgard? Have you seen more powerful rulers elsewhere on your journeys?"

"Truly," replied honest Thor, "I have brought great shame upon the Æsir. Justly will ye say that I am one of little worth."

"Hardly that," said the giant king. "Now that you are outside of my city—which with my consent you will never enter again—I must tell you the truth. Had I imagined your powers and how near they would have brought me to disaster, you would by no means have seen the inside of it this time.

"Know, then, that I have deceived you all along with illusions.

"The wallet you could not open in the forest was bound with invisible iron wire. The least of the three strokes of your hammer would have ended my days: I brought before me a rocky mountain which you could not see; in this you will find three deep ravines, made by those blows.

"The contests here were illusions likewise.

"Though Loki ate like hunger, Logi who outmatched him was ardent fire itself.

"Hugi was thought: how could even swift Thialfi keep pace with him?

"The horn you tried to empty reached to the sea; when you come to the shore you will see your draughts have caused the ocean itself to ebb. When we saw you lift one of the cat's paws from the floor, we were all terror-stricken: for the cat was in reality the great Midgard serpent which encompasses the whole earth. Nurse Elli was in fact old age—and never yet has man wrestled with her as have you.

"Therefore, let us never meet again. For in spite of all the marvels of your strength, you can never prevail against me because of my illusions."

Wild with anger, Thor laid hold of Miolnir. But Utgard-Loki had vanished. He would have destroyed the city, but even that had disappeared, leaving only a smooth and verdant plain.

There was no help for it save to return to their own land; and in truth as the Asa reflected upon what had happened, he was not so ill pleased as before.

Especially did he recall his feat of lifting the Midgard serpent; and the remembrance of his incredible exploit fired him with a resolution to match himself once more against this monstrous world-encircling progeny of Loki.

It was not long thereafter when he determined to wait no more for this. So hastily did he set out that he took neither car, nor goats, nor followers.

In the semblance of a young man he travelled forth, and at dusk came to the dwelling of a giant named Hymir, who lived by the Elivagar water.

Here he passed the night. At the evening meal he alone ate two of the oxen Hymir had prepared.

"I shall have to go fishing tomorrow to feed you," grumbled the host.

In the morning Hymir made his boat ready to go fishing. Thor offered to accompany him.

"Much use a midget like you would be," returned the giant. "You can eat, of a certainty; but rowing is quite another matter. Worse than that, you would get cold and terrified if I go out to my fishing-grounds and stay as I am accustomed to."

Sorely tempted to try Miolnir on the giant's skull, Thor dissembled:

"I will row as far as you say. We shall see which wishes to turn back first. What bait do we use?"

"Get a bait for yourself," returned the surly fellow.

Thor walked off to where the herd of oxen grazed. The leader was a huge coal-black bull. Seizing the beast by its horns, the Asa wrung off its head, carried it back to the boat and threw it in.

"Better if you had sat still," grumbled Hymir.

They pushed the boat through the breakers and put out to sea, each rowing with a pair of oars. Thor was aft, and Hymir was amazed to see how the boat shot through the waves, even against the strong wind.

Before long the giant pulled in his oars.

"Here is where I catch flat fish," said he.

"No, no; further out," said Thor, pulling harder than ever.

"Stop!" cried Hymir after a while. "We are getting near the dwelling of the Midgard serpent."

"Further out is better fishing," declared Thor; and he rowed on in spite of his companion's protests.

He stopped at last. Muttering, Hymir threw out his line. Presently he drew up a whale. Then another took hold.

Meanwhile Thor had taken out a line and hook, the size of which caused the giant to stare. Fastening the gory bull's head on the hook, he dropped it far down into the depths, till it actually reached the bottom.

He did not have to wait long. Something far down there seized the bait. The line tautened. Thor jerked violently. When the monster felt the hook, it pulled so hard that Thor was forced to hold on to the rowing pins to avoid being dragged overboard.

Then the Asa's spirit waxed high. He hauled at the line so that his feet went through the bottom of the boat and down to the ocean floor. Yet ever he pulled, so stoutly that presently the hideous head of the Midgard snake appeared above the surface.

Nothing daunted by the floods of venom which the beast spouted out at him, Thor darted fiery glances at his enemy, still striving to lift the head into the boat.

Hymir, however, terrified beyond measure and feeling the craft sink beneath him, took his knife out of the sheath and cut the line just as Thor launched his hammer.

The monster fell back and sank again to his immemorial abode.

We know not whether those speak truly who declare that Miolnir struck off its head at the bottom of the sea, or whether it still lies encircling the earth. But it is related among the exploits of Alexander the Great that being lowered in a glass cage to the depths of the ocean he beheld a prodigious monster going past, and sat for two days, watching its body ooze along all the time, before its "tail and hinder parts" appeared. Which sounds as if Thor had not made a thorough job of it.

Certain it is, however, that Hymir said no word till they were again at the shore. Then he muttered:

"Do your share: carry the whales in or make the boat fast."

Whereupon Thor picked up boat, oars, whales and all, and bore the whole thing up the wooded hillside to the Jotun's dwelling.

CHAPTER V
THE GIANT PYRAMID-BUILDER

These monsters were enemies both of gods and men. Fierce were the wars waged against them by the people of Tlascala, and many a giant was overcome by their multitudes, or driven forth into the wilderness to perish of starvation.

Always, however, there were enough of the dreadful race left to keep the land in an uproar; and particularly one Xelhua and his six brothers defied all attempts against them, holding themselves above laws, and doing only that which pleased their own ruthless cruelty. Very crafty as well as very strong they were, and the land of Anahuac groaned beneath their devastating tread. Finding there was none alive who might resist them, they waxed arrogant past belief, and scorned the very gods above, confident that there was no power in earth or heaven which could resist their will.

But at last the heavenly rulers grew wearied of this senseless tumult below. They determined to put an end to it all, and poured forth an overwhelming deluge on the earth. The clouds burst wide and precipitated their inexhaustible reservoirs; the irresistible ocean itself was loosed from its bounds; the underground rivers shot up from beneath the earth upon men and giants alike, and those who were not drowned were transformed into fishes.

All except crafty Xelhua and his six brothers: as the flood from above met the rising sea, they fled northward, climbed the lofty slopes of Mt. Tlaloc and hid themselves in seven caverns within its sides, rolling huge boulders in front of the openings to shut out the waters should they rise so high. Here they lay secure while the deluge raged unchecked throughout the universe.

When the appointed time came, the destroying waters withdrew to their stations above the clouds, beneath the earth, and in the ocean. Xelhua and his brothers came forth from their caves of refuge, the only living creatures, and by their arts peopled the earth with a new race, who were to be their servants.

They were now more arrogant than before,—for had they not succeeded in evading the utmost wrath of the gods? So Xelhua, who was skilled in building, determined to erect a structure such as the world had not yet seen—to serve not only as a perpetual memorial of his triumph, but also as an easier means of escape from any future attempt made against him by the lords of the winds and waters.

On the plain of Cholula this edifice was staked out, four sided, in girth like some great hill, in height planned to pierce the very clouds aloft.

In far-away Tlamanalco, at the foot of the Sierra, a multitude of men were set to work at digging clay, shaping it in moulds, and burning it into bricks. Instead of having these heavy loads carried across the hills, Xelhua stationed a line of workmen all the way from the brickyard to Cholula: these passed the bricks from hand to hand continually, so that the builders never lacked a supply. Bitumen too was similarly brought from a great distance to plaster the bricks firmly in place.

Under the hands of these myriads of workers the foundation of the incredible Pyramid grew as if it were a living thing. Day by day it mounted upwards, and the heart of Xelhua waxed high with pride when even he had to climb laboriously to reach the dizzy level where the swarming ant-like laborers still built themselves aloft bodily. Looking upwards, he regretted that he had not planned an even larger base: for surely that was the only thing which in any way limited this monument to his power and guarantee of future security. There was one consolation: when this reached the apex of its sloping sides, he could build another, infinitely larger and loftier. Meanwhile, a future deluge must be worse than the former one to reach him upon the summit of this almost completed structure.

But the gods do not sleep, though they be long silent.

With rising wrath they beheld the growth of this presumptuous edifice and the increasing audacity of its builder. Still they bided their time, and the pyramid of Xelhua crept upwards till the low-hanging clouds often lay far beneath its upper courses.

The day came when a man might easily count the space of time still needed to complete the structure. Xelhua urged on his host of workers.

Then suddenly the heavens opened. A huge mass of flaming rock fell with irresistible force upon the proud pyramid and those that built it. The upper portion crashed down in ruins, carrying to destruction thousands of the laborers and the master-builder Xelhua himself.

Wherefore men doubted no longer that there were eternal powers on high. The fragment of the building which remained was dedicated thenceforth to the Fair God, Quetzal. And down to the time of that worthy Dominican, Pedro de los Rios, the priests showed to unbelievers a portion of the very thunderbolt, a stone shaped like a toad, which had confounded the mad presumption of Xelhua; while the dancing celebrants sang in their festival hymn the tale of these happenings, that reverence might no more perish among men.

Moreover, since that day the tribes have no longer spoken the same tongue, but each has a language of its own, unintelligible to the others.

CHAPTER VI
THE FATAL PRIDE OF VUKUB

His eye-balls gleamed like silver set with precious stones; the enamel of his teeth was so brilliant that to look at them was like gazing at some gleaming emerald, or the light-filled face of the sky. There was nothing in all the world that gave forth light like the eyes and teeth of Vukub.

Great as was his radiant beauty, his pride was greater still. Orgulous was he and puffed-up. And he said:

"Of a truth, only those have been saved from the flood who were above their fellow men. And of all those left alive there is not one like unto me. I am their sun, their dawn, and their moon. It is my splendor by which men come and go. I can see to the limits of creation, and it is so."

Thus he spoke in his arrogance. Nor was his pride lessened when he looked upon his two giant sons: Zipacna, who ruled the cloud-piercing peaks, and Cabrakan, at whose word the mountains belched forth fire, and the earth trembled in sudden convulsions. Moreover, there was none who dared deny that only when he advanced from his throne did the world come to life.

But the gods on high were not deaf to this boasting. They heard and smiled when Vukub said: "I am the Sun"; they smiled when Zipacna said: "I heaped-up and rule the mountains"; and again they smiled when Cabrakan said: "I shake the sky and earth."

Nevertheless, when they perceived that all on earth bowed in assent before these vain boasters, they stirred up against them the hearts of the marvellous twin brothers Hun-Apu and Xbalanque. Miraculously born of an earthly princess, these brethren had become heroes of many surprising adventures; none might compete with them at tlachtli, that universal form of hockey by which a man's prowess was measured; deadly were the long blow-pipes they carried over their shoulders; and withal they were very crafty.

"It is not good that this should be," said the brethren, when they heard the vaunts of Vukub. "Let us put an end to the jewels by reason of which he is so puffed-up."

Now, next to his light-giving features, the thing dearest to Vukub was a huge nanze tree, a tapal, loaded with its round, yellow, aromatic fruit; and each morning he was wont to breakfast on this delicious fare.

Coming one day as usual, he climbed up to the summit of the lofty tree that he might take his choice of the most luscious fruit. Very wrathful was he this morning, when he perceived that the spreading branches were almost completely stripped of the bountiful supply which had hung there the day before.

He glared about to see who had dared to do this thing, and his anger grew ten times greater when he perceived the twins, almost hidden in the thick foliage.

Before he could attack them, Hun-Apu raised the blow-pipe to his mouth and sped a dart which buried itself in the giant's cheek. With a frightful screech he fell from the tree-top to the ground.

Quickly the brothers descended, and ran to seize the groaning giant; but he grasped the arm of Hun-Apu with so fell a grip that he tore it completely away from the shoulder; whereupon they fled from him in haste.

Still holding his enemy's arm, and pressing his hand against the wounded jaw, Vukub made his way home, groaning aloud.

"What has happened to my lord?" asked his wife.

"Those wicked ones have shot a dart into my cheek which tortures me beyond endurance. But I have torn off the arm of one of them; and I shall revenge myself by roasting it over the fire till the pain drives that demon to come for it."

So he suspended the arm before the fire, bidding his wife never cease turning it over the blazes, and lay down groaning more than ever: for the teeth of which he was so proud now caused him an anguish he could not bear. Moreover, the pain had extended even to his shining eye-balls.

Meanwhile the brothers, in order to combat this magic torture, had consulted a pair of mighty sorcerers. Man and wife were this ancient couple; their hair was white as the snows upon the mountain peaks, and the woman was bent double when she sat or stood or walked. Between them they fashioned a subtle plan.

Vukub lay before his golden throne, moaning and howling with the pain that affected him, so that his cries could be heard afar off without the palace.

There came one who told him that two doctors were at the door, enquiring who it might be that suffered so greatly. He ordered that they should be admitted.

In hobbled a very ancient white-haired man and woman. Even in his agony the heart of Vukub was pleased to notice that the woman bowed almost double as she came before him.

"Who are you, and what do you wish?" said the giant king.

"We are doctors, mighty Lord. Hearing one cry out we stopped to enquire the trouble: for we make our living by curing ailments."

"Who are those behind you—your sons?" demanded Vukub suspiciously, noticing two slim figures, dressed in skins, in the rear.

"Not so, lord. These are our grandchildren. Their father and mother are both dead, and they follow us everywhere as we go about to heal, since only thus can we get food for us all."

"What can you heal? Can you ease this pain which devours me?"

"Doubtless we can, for we are wise in all arts—though our special knowledge is that of removing aching teeth."

"Teeth!" exclaimed the king, groaning afresh, and scarcely able to speak. "That is what is killing me—they and my eyes."

"Let me see," said the old man. He bent forward and examined the wounded cheek. "Ah, you have a bad wound there. No wonder you suffer."

"It was those demons who shot me with a blow-pipe," said Vukub thickly. "Cure me if you can, and you shall not complain of your reward."

"It will be necessary to remove those teeth," said the sorcerer. "Also I think the eye-ball is diseased already."

"What! Remove my teeth which give light to all the world! Impossible."

"Are they not loose in the jaw anyhow?"

"Yes, yes, they move in their sockets—and when they do so, deadly pains run throughout my body."

"You see they must come out. But have no fear: such is our skill that we will replace them with others more beautiful by far. More, we will remove them all, so that the new set will be alike. Even the eye-balls we will match as before."

"If you are sure—," began Vukub. Then, as the pain gripped him,—"Quick! Do as you say. I cannot eat; not once have I slept since those evil ones shot me; surely I shall die if I be not healed speedily. But use all your arts: for it is because of the beauty of my teeth and my eyes that I am king."

"Rest assured. Pure and strong and polished will be the new teeth that we shall put in their place."

"Hurry," said Vukub.

Then the two cunning sorcerers, aided by the disguised twins, removed the shining teeth, while the giant howled and wept. And in place of them they inserted only grains of white maize.

Immediately his splendor fell. He knew within himself that he was no longer the dawn and the moon. Nor was he able to resist when they proceeded to remove the gleaming eye-balls which still gave lustre to his countenance.

But when these also were gone, Vukub-Cakix ceased to be. For without his colossal pride he was not.

All this time his wife had been busily turning the severed arm over the fire, to increase the torments of its absent owner. Hun-Apu now snatched the arm, and with the aid of powerful incantations by the sorcerers, replaced it firmly in its socket. Whereupon the brothers went away, well content in that they had humbled the pride of Vukub.

And it is set down in the Written Leaves how later on they overcame through craft both of those gigantic sons of the Proud One, so that the seed of the earth-giants perished utterly from among the Mayas.

CHAPTER VII
OG, KING OF BASHAN

When the wickedness and arrogance of the Cainites brought the Flood upon the earth, Noah, as commanded, gathered his family and the animals into the ark he had built. All the rest of the miserable folk perished in the waters—with the single exception of the giant Og. The latter had persuaded Noah to save him by promising that he and his descendants would in return serve the family of Noah forever. But when they came to embark, it was discovered that the vessel was not large enough to accommodate this huge creature; so he was permitted to sit on top of the ark; and during those weary months when the waters covered the face of the earth, those within passed food to the giant through a hole in the roof.

There are, indeed, writers who declare that Og escaped because his stature was such that the deluge at its deepest reached only to his knees, he being accustomed to drink water direct from the clouds. In fact, Abba Saul avers: "I once hunted a stag which fled into the thigh-bone of a dead man. I pursued it and ran along three parasangs" (about eight miles!) "of the thigh-bone, yet had not yet reached its end"—and this bone proved to be a portion of Og's skeleton. In Moses' time, however, the giant's great iron-bedstead—"is it not in Rabbath of the children of Ammon?"—was a mere thirteen or fourteen feet long. Whatever his height, his breadth was half as great, instead of only one-third as in the normal man.

There was also one animal too large to enter the ark, the reëm or unicorn. It was therefore tied to the stern and "ran on behind." Undoubtedly this difficult mode of travelling proved fatal, since we have no authentic record of that beast since then.

Og had better fortune. Whether wading or bestriding the vessel, he won through; for we find him again some hundreds of years later as the slave of Abraham, to whom he had been presented by Nimrod. (He was, say the rabbins, that very steward called Eliezer in the Bible account.) Finally, after these centuries of servitude, his master freed him as a reward for bringing back Rebekah as a bride for his son Isaac.

"God also rewarded him in this world, that this wicked wight might not lay claim to a reward in the world to come. He therefore made a king of him." He had also received another doubtful reward for a difficult service. Hearing that Abraham's nephew Lot had been carried away into captivity, he sped with the news, and stood by when all others were fearful, thinking in his heart that his master would hasten to his kinsman's help, and would be killed by the marauding kings—which would leave the beautiful Sarah as his own prize. Consequently he was granted another five hundred years of life, but on the conclusion of that term he was to be completely mortal.

Long did this gigantic monarch of gigantic adventures reign in Bashan, east of the Jordan River. Sixty walled cities did he found, and great was his power and fame in all that land. Of his own race to the south was Sihon, King of the Amorites; and across the Dead Sea was another family of his blood, Anak and his sons and daughters. All the kings of Canaan paid tribute to Og of Bashan in return for the defence of their borders by his might. Even had he known of it, he would have been little troubled to hear that the Israelitish slaves of Pharaoh had escaped from bondage in Egypt, and were slowly moving northward through the desert towards Canaan.

Great indeed would have been his amusement had he seen the slinking spies sent out by Moses, when they reached the "City of Four" (Kiriath-Arba, or Hebron), where dwelt Anak and his mighty brood. At the mere shout of one of the sons the spies fell down as dead men; and one day the Israelites heard the Anakim roar to each other as they looked toward the trembling strangers: "There are grasshoppers by the trees that have the semblance of men."

But in spite of the timorous report of most of these scouts—"we be not able to go up against these people; for they are stronger than we"—the day arrived when word came to Og that this band of wanderers had smitten the Amorites, and killed Sihon and his son, and captured the impregnable city of Heshbon, and taken possession of all that region.

This brought the invaders to the very edge of Og's dominions, and when they had rested, they pressed on against the stronghold of Edrei.

Toward night they reached the outskirts, and Moses prepared to attack the following day. At dawn he rose and went forward to reconnoitre; but as he looked ahead through the grayness he cried out:

"Behold, in the night they have built up a new wall about the city!"

Then the light grew gradually stronger, and he perceived that what he had taken for a new fortification was the giant king himself, who sat upon the wall with his feet touching the earth.

Sore dismayed was the Israelitish host at sight of this incredible being, who gazed upon them with scornful confidence. Even Moses himself hesitated and began to feel doubtful. Not only did ordinary weapons seem unavailing against such a prodigy, but he reflected that this giant was reputed to have lived for hundreds of years: "Surely he could never have attained so great an age had he not performed meritorious deeds." He reflected too that Og was the only one of the original giant brood who had escaped the sword of the angel Amraphel, and it seemed therefore as if he must be under some sort of divine protection.

While he thus communed with himself and sought for guidance in prayer, he seemed to hear from on high a direct answer to his questionings:

"What matters to thee Og's gigantic stature? He is as a green leaf in thy hand."

At this he took courage. Yet he could not understand in what manner he might come at the monster, since apparently no weapon he could handle would come anywhere near reaching to his knees.

So he waited, considering this matter. And presently the giant bestirred himself and set about bringing the issue to a close in characteristic fashion. For, noting closely the size of the encampment of the Israelites, he heaved up a huge rock, like a veritable mountain, vast enough to cover the entire camp. Bearing this upon his head, he strode forward, clearly intending to crush the entire force of his enemies at one blow.

Ill would it have fared with the band under Moses that day had they been dependent upon their own might alone. But as the giant advanced, and all waited in terror for the catastrophe, the colossal mass of rock was seen to settle down over his head. He stood still, blinded and bewildered, endeavoring to throw off this imprisoning bulk; but all his efforts were unavailing.

Then Moses, perceiving that the enemy was delivered into his hands, seized a mighty axe, and ran forward, and leaped into the air higher than an ordinary man's head, and dealt such a blow upon Og's leg that he crashed to earth with the rock on top of him.

Thus died Og, King of Bashan, last of the giants who were before the Flood.

And the warriors of Israel fell upon the army which had accompanied him, and conquered it utterly, and took possession of all that land.

CHAPTER VIII
A SON OF ANAK

He was half as tall again as an ordinary man, something over nine feet. His brazen breastplate alone weighed as much as a man; on his head was a helmet of brass; and he carried over his shoulder a mighty spear which looked like a weaver's beam and the head of which alone weighed twenty-five pounds. Brazen greaves were upon his legs, and he bore a shield of gleaming brass.

This daunting figure advanced boldly into the plain, between the two armies drawn up in battle array, and in a great voice cried out:

"Why are ye come out to set your battle in array? Am not I a Philistine and ye servants of Saul? Choose you a man for you and let him come down to me.

"If he be able to fight with me, and to kill me, then will we be your servants: but if I prevail against him and kill him, then shall ye be our servants, and serve us.

"I defy the armies of Israel this day; give me a man, that we may fight together."

Now this was quite customary in the olden times: many a great issue had been decided by the combat of two champions. Moreover, there were brave men enough in the army of the Israelites, for Saul had had war all his days, against the children of Moab and the Amalekites, against Ammon, Edom and Zoab; and when he had seen any strong or valiant fighter among his people, he had straightway taken him unto him. But at the sight of this huge, brazen warrior, his hardiest veterans turned pale and trembled—for was it not a saying passed on from father to son for many generations: "Who shall stand before the sons of Anak?"

So, among all those thousands there was not found one so much as to answer to the giant's challenge. Which, when he perceived, he reviled them and returned to his own people.

The next day he came forth again, morning and evening, and the day after that, and each day following, always repeating his challenge in the face of all the force, and taunting them bitterly. Wherefore Saul was greatly troubled, for he knew well that this open fear of the giant would fight more overwhelmingly against his soldiers, when battle was joined, than the mighty Philistine himself and all his host. He offered, therefore, great riches to any man who would go forth against the challenger; whosoever should slay him should have the king's daughter to wife, and his father's house should be free in Israel. Yet even this could not prevail upon any to stand before the Philistine, so that for forty days he braved and insulted the whole army without response.

Now there were three brothers among those who followed Saul, Eliab, Abinadab and Shammah. They were sons of Jesse, who dwelt but ten or twelve miles from the battlefield in the hills near Bethlehem. This Jesse had a fourth son, David, who was but a stripling and tended his father's sheep.

He was a ruddy youth, of fair gaze, and beautiful to look upon. So cunning a musician was he that when an evil spirit of melancholy had descended upon the king, one of his servants had brought the boy to harp to his master; and the youth's skill in charming away this evil spirit had given him favor in Saul's sight, so that he had kept him before him and made him his armor-bearer. But when the three older sons of Jesse had joined the army gathered against the Philistines, David had returned to his duties with his father's flocks.

It chanced at this time that Jesse called David to him:

"Take now," said he, "this bushel of parched corn and these ten loaves and carry them swiftly to the camp to thy brethren.

"And carry these ten cheeses to the captain of their thousand, and see how thy brethren fare and bring me word again."

So David arose very early in the morning and left the sheep with a keeper and went as his father had commanded to the camp by the valley of Elah.

It was an easy journey for one who spent his days abroad with the sheep, and the sun was but lately up when he reached the encampment.

All was noise and confusion as he arrived, for both hosts were setting themselves in battle array, army against army. So the youth left his burdens with the keeper of the supplies, and ran in among the ranks until he found his brethren and said unto them: "Peace be with you."

As he talked with them, the Philistine champion appeared on the opposite slope. According to his wont, he challenged the whole army and reviled them, while the men of Israel drew back, sore afraid as before.

David heard his insults, and heard also the talk of those who stood by: what great things King Saul had promised to any who might overthrow him, and how long his boast and defiance had gone unquestioned.

"What shall be done," he inquired of his neighbors, "to the man that killeth this Philistine and taketh away the reproach from Israel? For who is this uncircumcised Philistine that he should defy the armies of the living God?"

They answered and told him what the king had promised: "So shall it be done to the man that killeth him."

His eldest brother Eliab heard these questionings, and his anger was kindled against David. He turned upon him, saying:

"Why comest thou down hither? And with whom hast thou left those few sheep in the wilderness? I know thy pride and forwardness: thou art come down that thou mightest see the battle."

"What have I now done?" replied the youth. "Was there not a cause for my coming?"

He turned away and again asked the nearest soldier of the affair, receiving the same answer. And some one came to Saul, relating the words the stripling had spoken. Saul sent for him.

As soon as he stood in the king's presence, David broke out, pointing to the distant figure of the giant:

"Let no man's heart fail because of him; thy servant will go and fight with this Philistine."

"Thou art not able to go against this Philistine to fight with him," answered Saul; "for thou art but a youth, and he is a man of war from his childhood up."

"Thy servant kept his father's sheep," urged the young man, "and there came a lion and a bear and took a lamb out of the flock.

"And I went out after the lion and smote him and delivered the lamb out of his mouth: and when he arose against me, I caught him by the hair and smote him, and slew him.

"Thy servant slew both the lion and the bear: and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be as one of them, seeing he hath defied the armies of the living God."

When Saul saw the eagerness and confidence of this handsome young shepherd, he was reminded of the deed of his son Jonathan when, accompanied only by his armor-bearer, he had climbed up into the enemy's garrison at Michmash, and slain twenty men within the space of half an acre, and started the rout of the whole army of the Philistines which had been about to overrun the land.

"Go," said he, "and the Lord be with thee."

So he armed David with his own armor and put a helmet on his head. And David girded on the king's sword and tried to walk; but he found himself so unaccustomed to the armor that he said to the king:

"I cannot go with these; for I have not proved them."

So he removed the armor, and set out in his shepherd's clothes, with his staff in his hand and his sling hanging from his girdle. This latter was the weapon he knew, and it was by no means to be despised. The plain piece of leather with thongs attached to each end, by means of which a stone could be hurled, was perhaps the very earliest means of fighting at a distance; and it was the traditional arm of more than one nation of the Syrian region. Among the Benjaminites, when they fought with Israel, there were 700 chosen men, left-handed, every one of whom could sling stones at a hair's-breadth and not miss; and an expert slinger had the advantage, against a warrior armed with sword and spear, of being able to deliver an attack long before he himself was threatened.

The youth walked to the brook and carefully selected five rounded stones of the right size, which he put into the wallet slung over his shoulder. Then, in the full sight of both armies, he advanced against the giant warrior in his gleaming harness, who stood brandishing his great spear and shouting his scorn.

Seeing David approach, he came forward, preceded by his shield-bearer. But perceiving only this fresh-faced stripling in his skin garment, he was filled with contempt at such an antagonist.

"Am I a dog," he cried, "that thou comest to me with staves?"

Cursing the youth by his heathen gods, he shouted: "Come to me, and I will give thy flesh to the fowls of the air, and to the beasts of the field."

Calmly David answered:

"Thou comest to me with a sword and with a spear, and with a shield: but I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom thou hast defied.

"This day will the Lord deliver thee into my hand; and I will smite thee, and take thy head from thee; and I will give the carcasses of the host of the Philistines this day unto the fowls of the air, and to the wild beasts of the earth; that all the assembly may know there is a god in Israel."

Enraged at this insolence, the Philistine champion hastened forward to smite down this boaster with one blow.

But David ran towards him. And as he ran he took one of the stones and placed it in his sling. Whirling it about, he hurled it so shrewdly that the stone struck Goliath full in the forehead, burying itself in the skull.

Down crashed that giant bulk to earth. The shield-bearer fled aghast back to his own lines. Running up to his prostrate adversary, the youth drew the giant's sword from his sheath, and, while the multitude looked on in awed silence, he hewed the Philistine's head from his body.

At that the Israelites set up a shout which echoed from hill to hill. The Philistine host turned and fled in utter panic, while Saul's men slaughtered them all the way to the gates of Gath, making great spoil of their belongings.

But David took the giant's sword and placed it in the sanctuary of Nob, where it was to serve him in dire need, at a later day.

And Saul set him over all his men of war.

Part II
IN THE DAYS OF ROMANCE

Though it be hard at times to see of what usefulness were those troublesome monsters of the world's younger days,—there is no such difficulty with the thronging giants of the age of chivalry. For some seven centuries (that is from the institution of this order by Charlemagne till it was shot to death by firearms and gunpowder), the giant's reason for existence was to furnish a large enough measure of the knight's prowess.

"The bigger they are, the harder they fall," says the modern "bruiser"; the old romancers would have added—"and the more resounding los to him who fells them."

Little did their vast size and muscles avail them against these hot thirsters after fame. The magic net of Caligorant, Ferragus's prophetic brazen head, Galafer's magic armor rendering the sinless wearer invulnerable, Mugillo's prodigious mace with its whirling balls—weapons, strength, craft and magic were alike impotent before a Roland, an Arthur, an Amadis, or a Guy of Warwick. Of a list of two hundred giants collected by a curious biographer, well-nigh half came to an untimely end through the sword of some knight-errant. Small wonder that after several hundred years of such eager reaping, these heroes should have left not one live specimen for us of later times to gape at.

Read but the following few tales of such adventures as comprised almost the regular "day's work" of knighthood; and, however much you may bewail the loss, you must speedily comprehend why these Tall Ones, once so plentiful, are today extinct.

CHAPTER IX
FERRAGUS, WHO OWNED THE BRAZEN HEAD

"He was of a ruddy complexion," says Turpin's Chronicle, "with brown hair; of a well-made handsome form, but stern visage. His height was about eight of his own feet which were very long. He was of a strong, robust make; his legs and thighs very stout, and his sinews firm. His face was thirteen inches long; his beard a palm; his nose half a palm; his forehead a foot over. His lion-like eyes flashed fire like carbuncles; his eye-brows were half a palm over. When he was angry it was a terror to look upon him. He required eight span for his girdle besides what hung loose. He ate sparingly of bread, but a whole quarter of lamb, two fowls, a goose, or a large portion of pork; a peacock, crane or a whole hare. He drank moderately of wine and water. He was so strong, that he could at a single blow cleave asunder an armed soldier on horseback, from the head to the waist, and the horse likewise. He easily vaulted over four horses harnessed together; and could raise an armed man from the ground to his head, as he stood erect upon his hand.

"He was liberal, just in his decrees, and fluent of speech. Four days in the year, especially during his residence in Spain, he held a solemn assembly at court, adorning himself with his royal crown and sceptre: namely on Christmas-day, at Easter, Whitsuntide, and on the festival of St. James. A naked sword, after the imperial fashion, was then borne before him. A hundred and twenty devout knights watched nightly around his couch, in three courses of forty each. A drawn sword was laid at his right hand, and a lighted candle at his left."

Yet the chief glory of this regal court was the band of Paladins, (Palace knights), sworn to the Emperor and to each other—Roland of Brittany, Oliver of Genoa, Ogier the Dane, Richard of Normandy, Guy of Burgundy, Rinaldo of the White Thorn, Terry of Ardennes, old Neymes of Bavaria, and the rest. Save perhaps at that Round Table of King Arthur, never was there gathered together such a company of heroes as these Douzepeers. All the world of christendom and paynimry resounded with their fame.

Amid one of these high festivals there arrived messengers spurring hotly from Nager. White-faced, they told of the coming of a Moorish giant hight Ferragus. He sent defiance to Charles and all his knights. Men said no weapon might harm him, while he himself was possessed of twenty men's strength.

Also he was surrounded by a reputation of magic art; for as Valentine and Orson later discovered, his home was on an island far to the south. Here glittered a strong castle of shining metal; and in a chamber therein stood on a pillar a marvellous brazen head, "composed a long time ago by the necromancy of a magician, which Head was of such an excellent composition, that it gave Answer to anything that was demanded." In addition he had for servitor one Pacolet, a dwarf, a very cunning wizard, who had made a wooden horse that would carry him through the air whithersoever he would. Natheless, be what he might, the Saracen challenger must be met, for the honor of knighthood. The Emperor therefore marched to Nager and pitched his camp there.

When the giant appeared from the city next morning, all were aghast at the sight. He was twelve cubits high, and the fingers which gripped his huge brand were three palms in length. From his loathly dark face his eyebrows stuck out like stiff pig's bristles. A hideous and fell creature he looked, and when the French knights beheld his monstrous thews they had little desire to seek "los" in that encounter.

Bold Ogier the Dane, however, demanded the honor of the fight. Carefully he armed himself, chose the heaviest lance he could find, and mounted his stoutest charger. Then he sped forth over the plain before the watching army. When he approached the giant, he set spurs to his horse and thundered down upon him with a speed and force that seemed irresistible.

With utter indifference the monster received the spear point on his shield, and the tough wood flew to pieces. Ferragus was not even staggered by the onset. He stepped forward, thrust a great arm about Ogier, lifted him bodily from his horse, and, despite all the struggles of this renowned warrior, carried him off beneath his arm to the castle, no more disturbed than a falcon is by the fluttering of the prey in his talons.

Next there came against him Rinaldo of the White Thorn, but he fared no better, being seized and borne away in the same manner.

Scornfully the giant taunted the French king:

"Ah, it was you who won Spain! And this is the best you have? By the Prophet, ten such at a time were no match for Ferragus alone."

Chafing under this disgrace, Charlemagne despatched two knights together, Sir Constantine of Rome, and Earl Howel of Nantes—only to suffer the humiliation of seeing the huge Saracen tuck one under each arm and walk away with them as if they were children.

Abandoning all thought of equal combat, he bade ten knights sally out and destroy this prodigy, whose boasting grew ever more difficult to endure. To his amazement, the issue was the same: Ferragus was not so much as wounded, while these doughty knights were borne off in triumph to the castle dungeon.

Ruin instead of renown seemed to lie at the end of this road, and the Emperor refused to risk any more of his knights in conflict with this unearthly being.

Roland's proud heart could not brook this. He came before Charles and demanded the combat. Dreading a similar fate for this best-loved of his douzepeers, the Emperor urged him to forego the adventure; yet when the Duke insisted that he must undertake it, for his own honor and that of France, Charles could no longer withhold his assent.

Armed cap-à-pie, the undefeated Paladin rode forth. So confident and haughty was his mien that Ferragus perceived this was no adversary to be despised. As the knight drew near, the giant's great hand shot out and gripped him inexorably by the sword arm. That vise-like grasp paralyzed the victim's muscles, as the crushing jaws of the lion are said to destroy effort and feeling. Then he put forth all his superhuman power, and lifted the knight from the saddle. Swinging him in front of himself, he urged his huge charger towards the castle, well assured of adding him too to the growing band of captives.

But as he was bearing him to the city (says the chronicler of nearly a thousand years ago), Roland recovered his strength, and trusting in the Almighty, seized the giant by the beard, and tumbled him from his horse, so that both came to the ground together. Roland then thinking to slay the infidel, drew his sword Durandal and struck at him, but the blow fell upon his steed and shore through it.

The giant, being thus on foot, drew his enormous sword; but Roland, who had remounted his own charger, dealt him a sudden stroke on the sword arm. Though Durandal was tempered so that the knight could cut through a block of marble with it, yet could the blade make no impression upon this creature's skin. Still, the sheer force of the blow struck the brand from the giant's grasp.

Greatly enraged at this mischance, Ferragus aimed a blow at Roland with his fist, but, missing him, hit his horse on the forehead and laid it dead on the spot. Avoiding the monster's grasp Roland laid on him lustily with Durandal, but the unfailing weapon could find no spot where the giant's hide might be pierced.

For the rest of that day they battled with fists and stones. The giant then demanded a truce till next day, agreeing to meet Roland without horse or spear. Each warrior then retired to his post.

Next morning they accordingly met once more. Ferragus brought his sword, but Roland armed himself only with a sturdy club to ward off the blows of the giant, who wearied himself to no purpose.

They now began again to batter each other with stones that lay scattered about the field, till at last the giant begged a second truce. This being granted, he presently fell fast asleep upon the ground. Roland, taking a stone for a pillow, quietly laid himself down also. For such was the law of honor between the Christians and the Saracens at that time, that no one on any pretence dared to take advantage of his adversary before the truce was expired, as in that case his own party would have slain him.

When Ferragus awoke, he found Roland awake also, marvelling at the prodigious snoring which came from his huge adversary. He discovered, too, that the knight had placed a block of stone beneath his head for a pillow, and this courtesy caused him to inquire the Frenchman's name.

Roland told him, and inquired in his turn of that matter which most bewildered him: how it was that no wounds had resulted from all his swordplay with his trusted Durandal.

"Because," said Ferragus proudly, "I am invulnerable except in one point."

"And where is that?"

"In the navel."

Ferragus spoke in the Spanish language, which Roland understanding tolerably well, a conversation now followed between them.

"Of what race are you?" asked the giant.

"Of the race of the Franks."

"What law do you follow?"

"The law of Christ, so far as his grace permits me."

"Who is this Christ in whom you profess to believe?"

"The Son of God, born of a Virgin, who took upon him our nature, was crucified for us, rose again from the dead, and ascended into heaven, where he sitteth on the right hand of the Father."

"We believe," said Ferragus, "that the Creator of heaven and earth is one God, and that, as he was not made himself, so cannot another God spring from him. There is, therefore, only one God and not three, as I understand you Christians profess."

"You say well; there is but one God; but your faith is imperfect; for as the Father is God, so likewise is the Son, and so is the Holy Ghost. Three persons, but one God."

"Nay, if each of these three persons be God, there must be three Gods."

"By no means," replied Roland. "He is both three and one. Abraham saw three but worshipped one. Let us recur to natural things. When the harp sounds, there is the art, the strings and the hand, yet but one harp. In the almond there is the shell, the coat and the kernel. In the sun, the body, the beams and the heat. In the wheel, the hub, the spokes, and the nave. In you likewise, there is the body, the members and the soul. In like manner may Trinity in Unity be ascribed to God."

They discoursed at length upon these mysteries, the giant listening with great interest to the knight's explanation of the resurrection from the dead. To Roland's surprise, however, Ferragus presently remarked:

"Well, to end our arguments, I will fight you on these terms: if the faith you profess be the true faith, you shall conquer; otherwise the victory shall be mine. And let the issue be eternal honor to the conqueror, but dishonor to the vanquished."

"Be it so!" said Roland.

Whereupon they immediately fell to blows. The very first which the giant aimed at him would have certainly been fatal, if Roland had not nimbly leaped aside, and caught it on his club, which was, however, cut in twain. Ferragus, seeing his advantage, rushed in upon him, and both came to the ground together.

Then Roland, finding it impossible to escape, implored the divine assistance; and, feeling himself invigorated, he sprung upon his feet, seized the giant's sword and thrust it into his navel.

Finding himself mortally wounded, Ferragus called aloud with a mighty voice upon Mahomet; which the Saracens hearing, sallied from the city, and bore him off in their arms.

Roland returned safe to the camp, to the great joy of Charlemagne and his fellows. Then the French boldly attacked the city, and carried it by storm. The giant and his people were slain, his castle taken, and all the Christian warriors liberated.