BUT the hero had no time for wonder or exploring; for before him stood the grim she-wolf of the abyss, and it behoved him to be quick in attack. Grasping Hrunting,* he whirled it around her head; but when it descended to strike, he found, to his dismay, that the edge did not bite; for the first time the costly blade failed the master at his need.

With prompt decision he angrily flung it away, and once again trusting wholly to his own strength, seized the hag by the shoulder, and swayed her so violently in his rage that she sank to the pavement. She swiftly repaid him and closed in upon him, crushing the wind out of his body, so that he, fearless as he was, staggered from sheer breathlessness and fell prostrate. Then the hag sat upon his back and drew her broad knife, and her goblin son would have been avenged then and there, but that Beowulf’s mail-shirt was proof against point and edge, which gave him time for a last mighty effort to throw off the hindering weight, — and presently he stood once more erect on his feet.