In the valley of Corihor. Coriantumr again sought battle. He challenged Shiz, from the hill Coranor, by the sound of the trumpet, and Shiz was in no temper to disregard the challenge. Twice he attacked his over-confident foe, with the horde of men, women and children who followed his banner, and twice he was repulsed. On the third occasion he bore so heavily upon Coriantumr that the latter was wounded and fainted from the loss of blood. Their leader stricken, his motley following of old and young fell back; but Shiz was in no condition to take advantage of his victory. Both had lost so heavily that they were unable to renew the contest. Two millions of men, with their wives and children, had already fallen in this inhuman, relentless war.
At this point the heart of Coriantumr was touched with the miseries of his people, and he wrote to Shiz, stating that he would surrender the kingdom if the lives of his people could be spared. Shiz's brutal soul was yet untouched; he replied that if Coriantumr would give himself up so that he (Shiz) might slay him with his own sword, he would spare the lives of the people. To this proposal Coriantumr would not accede. With rekindled anger and hatred the two hosts prepared for renewed hostilities. Shiz was victorious in the first battle, and the enemy retired to the neighborhood of the great lakes. Another furious conflict followed, and Coriantumr triumphed, while Shiz retreated southward, to a place called Ogath, near the hill Ramah. Here the two commanders gathered their hosts for the final struggle. All, babe and grandsire, men and women, had to join one side or the other. The spirit of bloody vengeance filled every heart. Into the trembling hands of age and the feeble grasp of infancy alike, were thrust the sword and spear, while shield and breastplate defended the body strong enough to bear their weights. When once
