a sword in the other, but no shield. He thrust with the right
hand at Sigmund Sigfus’ son, and smote him on his breast, and the
spear came out between his shoulders, and down he fell and was
dead at once, With his left hand he made a cut at Mord, and smote
him on the hip, and cut it asunder, and his backbone too; he fell
flat on his face, and was dead at once.
After that he turned sharp round on his heel like a whipping-top,
and made at Lambi Sigurd’s son, but he took the only way to save
himself, and that was by running away as hard as he could.
Now Thorgeir turns against Leidolf the Strong, and each hewed at
the other at the same moment, and Leidolf’s blow was so great
that it shore off that part of the shield on which it fell.
Thorgeir had hewn with “the ogress of war,” holding it with both
hands, and the lower horn fell on the shield and clove it in
twain, but the upper caught the collarbone and cut it in two and
tore on down into the breast and trunk. Kari came up just then,
and cut off Leidolf’s leg at mid-thigh, and then Leidolf fell and
died at once.
Kettle of the Mark said, “We will now run for our horses, for we
cannot hold our own here, for the overbearing strength of these
men.”
Then they ran for their horses, and leapt on their backs; and
Thorgeir said, “Wilt thou that we chase them? If so, we shall
yet slay some of them.”
“He rides last,” says Kari, “whom I would not wish to slay, and
that is Kettle of the Mark, for we have two sisters to wife; and
besides, he has behaved best of all of them as yet in our
quarrels.”
Then they got on their horses, and rode till they came home to
Holt. Then Thorgeir made his brothers fare away east to Skoga,
for they had another farm there, and because Thorgeir would not
that his brothers should be called truce-breakers.
Then Thorgeir kept many men there about him, so that there were
never fewer than thirty fighting men there.
Then there was great joy there, and men thought Thorgeir had
grown much greater, and pushed himself on; both he and Kari too.
Men long kept in mind this hunting of theirs, how they rode upon
fifteen men and slew those five, but put those ten to flight who
got away.
Now it is to be told of Kettle, that they rode as they best might
till they came home to Swinefell, and told how bad their journey
had been.
Flosi said it was only what was to be looked for; “And this is a
warning that ye should never do the like again.”
Flosi was the merriest of men, and the best of hosts, and it is
so said that he had most of the chieftain in him of all the men
of his time.
He was at home that summer, and the winter too.
But that winter, after Yule, Hall of the Side came from the east,
and Kol his son. Flosi was glad at his coming, and they often
