She was snorting with rage, and in front of her was a lad long and strong, with a grim face, and a wolf's hide, black and grey, bound about his shoulders in such fashion that the upper jar and teeth of the wolf rested on his head.

He stood before the lioness, shouting, and in one hand he held a large war-shield, and in the other he grasped a heavy club shod with iron.
Now the lioness crouched herself to spring, growling terribly, but the lad with the club did not wait for her onset.

He ran in upon her and struck her on the head with the club.

He smote hard and well, but this did not kill her, for she reared herself upon her hind legs and struck at him heavily.

He caught the blow upon his shield, but the shield was driven against his breast so strongly that he fell backwards beneath it, and lay there howling like a wolf in pain.