“I know not,” said Thorkel, “how thou wilt fare in the end, but men of equal prowess I deem you not:  lay as few burdens on him as thou mayst, Biorn.”

Biorn said, that neither of them should pick and choose words from out his mouth.

Now, when a hill’s brow was between them, Grettir went back to the pass, for now there was no striving with others for the onset.  He drew the sword, Jokul’s gift, but had a loop over the handle of the short-sword, and slipped it up over his hand, and this he did in that he thought he could easier have it at his will if his hand were loose.  He went up into the pass forthwith, and when the beast saw a man, it rushed against Grettir exceeding fiercely, and smote at him with that paw which was furthest off from the rock; Grettir hewed against the blow with the sword, and therewith smote the paw above the claws, and took it off; then the beast was fain to smite at Grettir with the paw that was whole, and dropped down therewith on to the docked one, but it was shorter than he wotted of, and withal he tumbled into Grettir’s arms.  Now he griped at the beast between the ears and held him off, so that he got not at him to bite.  And, so Grettir himself says, that herein he deemed he had had the hardest trial of his strength, thus to hold the brute.  But now as it struggled fiercely, and the space was narrow, they both tumbled down over the rock; the beast was the heaviest of the two, and came down first upon the stone heap below, Grettir being the uppermost, and the beast was much mangled on its nether side.  Now Grettir seized the short-sword and thrust it into the heart of the bear, and that was his bane.  Thereafter he went home, taking with him his cloak all tattered, and withal what he had cut from the paw of the bear.  Thorkel sat a-drinking when he came into the hall, and much men laughed at the rags of the cloak Grettir had cast over him.  Now he threw on to the table what he had chopped off the paw.

Then said Thorkel, “Where is now Biorn my kinsman? never did I see thy irons bite the like of this, Biorn, and my will it is, that thou make Grettir a seemly offer for this shame thou hast wrought on him.”

Biorn said that was like to be long about, “and never shall I care whether he likes it well or ill.”

Then Grettir sang—­

  “Oft that war-god came to hall
  Frighted, when no blood did fall,
  In the dusk; who ever cried
  On the bear last autumn-tide;
  No man saw me sitting there
  Late at eve before the lair;
  Yet the shaggy one to-day
  From his den I drew away.”

“Sure enough,” said Biorn, “thou hast fared forth well to-day, and two tales thou tellest of us twain therefor; and well I know that thou hast had a good hit at me.”

Thorkel said, “I would, Grettir, that thou wouldst not avenge thee on Biorn, but for him I will give a full man-gild if thereby ye may be friends.”

Biorn said he might well turn his money to better account, than to boot for this; “And, methinks it is wisest that in my dealings with Grettir one oak should have what from the other it shaves.”