urned to his guide.

"I have to thank you for my life," he said, holding out his hand to him.
"It would have gone hard with me if that fellow had attacked me from
behind. I had not bargained for three of them."

"I could not help it, my lord. It was not until Hassan had stepped down
into the boat that I knew he was going to take any one with him; then he
suddenly told two of his men to take their places by him, saying to me,
as he did so, 'I know not whether this message is a snare; but mind,
if I see any signs of treachery, your life at any rate will pay the
forfeit.' I knew not what to do, and indeed could do nothing; but,
knowing my lord's valour, I thought that, even against these odds, you
might conquer with such poor aid as I could give you."

"It was not poor aid at all," Gervaise said heartily. "Greatly am I
indebted to you, and sorry indeed am I, that I am unable to reward you
now for the great service that you have rendered me."

"Do not trouble about that, my lord. I am greatly mistaken if I do not
find in the sashes of these three villains sufficient to repay me amply
for my share in this evening's work. And now, my lord, I pray you to
linger not a moment. The gates of the town shut at ten o'clock, and it
cannot be long from that hour now. But first, I pray you, let me bind up
your shoulder; your garment is soaked with blood."

"Fortunately my bernouse will hide that; but it were certainly best to
staunch the blood before I start, for it would be hard for me to get at
the wound myself."

The man took one of the sashes of the corsairs, tore it into strips, and
bandaged the wound; then with another he made a sling for the arm. As
he took off the sashes a leather bag dropped from each, and there was a
chink of metal. He placed them in his girdle, saying, "I shall have time
to count them when I get back."

Gervaise sheathed his sword, and put on the bernouse, pulling the hood
well over his head; then, with a few more words of thanks, started for
the gate, leaving the man to search Hassan's girdle.

The gate was a quarter of a mile distant. Gervaise passed through with
the usual Arabic salutation to the sentry, and with difficulty repressed
a shout of exultation as he left Tripoli behind him.

Following the coast road he walked till daylight; then he left it and
lay down among the sand hills for five or six hours. He calculated that
no pursuit would be begun until midday. His absence was not likely to be