o Duke
Hoel, who lies buried here by me."

"Alas! then, the lady is no more?" cried Bedivere, in distress.

"So it is," replied the old woman, weeping more bitterly than ever,
"for when that accursed giant did seize upon her terror did so
overcome her that her spirit took flight. But tarry not on this dread
spot, noble youth, for if her fierce slayer should encounter thee he
will put thee to a shameful death, and afterward devour thee as is his
wont with all those whom he kills."

Bedivere comforted the old woman as best he might, and, returning to
Arthur, told him what he had heard. Now on hearing of the damsel's
death great anger took hold upon the King, so that he resolved to
search out the giant forthwith and slay or be slain by him. Desiring
Kay and Bedivere to follow, he dismounted and commenced to climb St
Michael's Mount, closely attended by his companions.

[Illustration: KING ARTHUR AND THE GIANT OF MONT-SAINT-MICHEL]

On reaching the summit a gruesome spectacle awaited them. The great
fire that they had seen in the distance was blazing fiercely, and
bending over it was the giant, his cruel and contorted features
besmeared with the blood of swine, portions of which he was toasting
on spits. Startled at the sight of the knights, the monster rushed to
where his club lay. This purpose Arthur deemed he might prevent, and,
covering himself with his shield, he ran at him while yet he fumbled
for the weapon. But with all his agility he was too late, for the
giant seized the mighty sapling and, whirling it in the air, brought
it down on the King's shield with such force that the sound of the
stroke echoed afar. Nothing daunted, Arthur dealt a trenchant stroke
with Excalibur, and gave the giant a cut on the forehead which made
the blood gush forth over his eyes so as nearly to blind him. But
shrewd as was the blow, the giant had warded his forehead with his
club in such wise that he had not received a deadly wound, and,
watching his chance with great cunning, he rushed in within the sweep
of Arthur's sword, gripped him round the middle, and forced him to the
ground.

Iron indeed would have been the grasp which could have held a knight
so doughty as Arthur. Slipping from the monster's clutches, the King
hacked at his adversary now in one place, now in another, till at
length he smote the giant so mightily that Excalibur was buried deep
in his brain-pan. The giant fell like an oak torn up by the roots in
the fury