oured out
their expressions of gratitude.

Saint David then told Saint George of his vow to the Emperor of Tartary;
when the English Knight informed him that the Enchanter was in his
power, but that he was unwilling to take his life.

"But, behold the signs of his cruelty!" said Saint David, pointing out
to Saint George the other nine hundred and ninety-eight iron beds in the
hall. "There lie bound many other noble knights and squires who for
many long years have been prevented from engaging in any deeds of
heroism. Think how many victories they might have won; how many captive
knights released; how many forlorn maidens rescued from durance vile;
how many other noble deeds they might have done!"

This speech so completely changed Saint George's view of things, that he
told Saint David he would hand over the Magician to him. Then the
Champion of Wales went forth from the castle, and with one blow of his
sword cut off Ormandine's hideous head, and sticking it on a pole, which
he delivered to the faithful Owen to carry, informed his brother
Champion that he was ready forthwith to depart for the court of the
Emperor of Tartary.

The other nine hundred and ninety-eight gallant knights and squires,
released by the courage and wisdom of Saint George, having expressed a
strong desire to follow his fortunes, he undertook to lead them round
the world in search of adventures worthy of their prowess. Saint David,
also, promised, when he had fulfilled his vow to the Emperor of Tartary,
to search him out and aid him.

Often had the noble Champion of England thought of the lovely Sabra, but
knew not where she was. At length, with his army of valiant knights and
trusty squires, having reached the kingdom of Bagabornabou, he, on
inquiring for her, heard, with dismay, that she had been carried off a
prisoner by Almidor, the black King of Morocco, and had ever since been
pining in a dungeon.

Calling his knights around him, he told them of the occurrence, and with
loud shouts, waving on high their swords, they promised to accompany him
to rescue her, or to die in the attempt. Setting off forthwith, they
reached the dominions of the black King; when Saint George, disguising
himself as a humble palmer, entered the city, followed by De Fistycuff,
in the same habit, to ascertain in what vile dungeon the lovely Sabra
was shut up.

In vain he wandered up and down, whispering her name, and inquiring of
all he met, till, at length,