They halted opposite to, and within reach of, each other, and in turn made more than one feint to strike, in order to ascertain the activity and vigilance of the opponent.

At length, whether weary of these manoeuvres, or fearing lest in a contest so conducted his unwieldy strength would be foiled by the activity of the smith, Bonthron heaved up his axe for a downright blow, adding the whole strength of his sturdy arms to the weight of the weapon in its descent.

The smith, however, avoided the stroke by stepping aside; for it was too forcible to be controlled by any guard which he could have interposed.

Ere Bonthron recovered guard, Henry struck him a sidelong blow on the steel headpiece, which prostrated him on the ground.
"Confess, or die," said the victor, placing his foot on the body of the vanquished, and holding to his throat the point of the axe, which terminated in a spike or poniard.
"I will confess," said the villain, glaring wildly upwards on the sky.
"Let me rise." "Not till you have yielded," said Harry Smith.
"I do yield," again murmured Bonthron, and Henry proclaimed aloud that his antagonist was defeated.
The Dukes of Rothsay and Albany, the High Constable, and the Dominican prior now entered the lists, and, addressing Bonthron, demanded if he acknowledged himself vanquished.
"I do," answered the miscreant.
"And guilty of the murder of Oliver Proudfute ?" "I am; but I mistook him for another." "And whom didst thou intend to slay ?" said the prior.

"Confess, my son, and merit thy pardon in another world for with this thou hast little more to do." "I took the slain man," answered the discomfited combatant, "for him whose hand has struck me down, whose foot now presses me." "Blessed be the saints!" said the prior; "now all those who doubt the virtue of the holy ordeal may have their eyes opened to their error.