" Now imagine my
astonishment--and everybody else's, too--to hear the peculiar
bugle-call which announces that another competitor is about to
enter the lists! There was a mystery here; I couldn't account for
this thing. Next, I noticed Merlin gliding away from me; and then
I noticed that my lasso was gone! The old sleight-of-hand expert
had stolen it, sure, and slipped it under his robe.
The bugle blew again. I looked, and down came Sagramor riding
again, with his dust brushed off and his veil nicely re-arranged.
I trotted up to meet him, and pretended to find him by the sound
of his horse's hoofs. He said:
"Thou'rt quick of ear, but it will not save thee from this!" and
he touched the hilt of his great sword. "An ye are not able to see
it, because of the influence of the veil, know that it is no cumbrous
lance, but a sword--and I ween ye will not be able to avoid it."
His visor was up; there was death in his smile. I should never
be able to dodge his sword, that was plain. Somebody was going
to die this time. If he got the drop on me, I could name the
corpse. We rode forward together, and saluted the royalties.
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