rs of Mohammed scattered in all directions, and then, like
wasps, clustered around in hope to sting.

Their fleet horses enabled them to keep near the Christian cavalry,
and to annoy them by countless flights of arrows, darts, and
spears, while, as usual, they avoided close contest, as a hunter
would avoid the hug of the bear. When they could not do so, it was
wondrous to see how limbs flew about, and bodies were cleft to the
very chine before the ponderous battle-axes of Western Christendom.

Still, it was with lessened numbers that our heroes fought their
way through, and had it not been that a body of Crusading cavalry,
attracted by the tumult, came prancing down the hill to their
rescue, in all the pomp and panoply of mediaeval warfare, they
might have fared worse.

There was a smart engagement when the succours arrived, ending in
the complete disappearance of all the Saracens and Turks from the
scene, while the victors rode together to the camp, exchanging
news, as if such a small affair was not worth talking about.

When they reached the camp, Edward of Aescendune exerted his powers
of persuasion in vain to induce the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre to
accompany him to his father's tent, there to receive the paternal
thanks.

"When the city is taken, and the Holy Sepulchre free, and the army
(bareheaded and barefooted) accomplishes its vow on Calvary--then,
but not before--we shall meet--Etienne de Malville and--" he
paused, then continued, "and I shall meet once more."

"Once more? have you ever met before?"

"We have, but long ago--let it pass, my son. God's blessing rest
upon thee and protect thee on the morrow, when thou wilt, I fear,
have scant care for thyself."

"It is for Jerusalem or Paradise. I shall rest in one or the other
by tomorrow night at this time. I leave which to God."

"Good youth; the saints keep thee, dear boy, for thy fond mother's
sake."

At that word mother, a tear stood in the warlike stripling's eye.
An embrace fonder than seemed usual with the stern knight of many
deeds, and they parted.

If our tale had not protracted itself to such an extravagant length
already, it would delight us to tell of the feats of valour
performed respectively, by the Knight of the Holy Sepulchre, by
Etienne de Malville, and by Edward his son; but it must suffice to
narrate in as few words as may be, the oft-told history of that
eventful day.

On the fortieth day of the siege the city was carrie