veins swelled in
agony; yet no sound escaped his lips. He could not, or would not, tell
where the treasure was concealed, and he was handed over to a Moslem
whose brother Kenana had slain. Manasseh closed his eyes in horror, for
he knew that Kenana's fate was sealed.

[Illustration: The Moslem's horse gives way beneath him!--See page 76.]

Kenana's wife, Safiya, was taken by Mohammed, and on the homeward march
she became the wife of the prophet.

Manasseh lay there in great depression of spirit. He was weary in mind
and cramped in body, and it almost seemed as though he were completely
forsaken. Yet his ever-present source of comfort returned to him, and
like a sweet refrain came the words into his mind: "Thou hast been a
strength to the poor, a strength to the needy in his distress, a refuge
from the storm, a shadow from the heat, when the blast of the terrible
ones is as a storm against the wall."

The half-starved Moslem troops now began to clamor for food, and the
defenceless Jewish women were forced to prepare victuals and to serve
their conquerors. Among these women entered Zaynab, the niece of Asru.
She placed a shoulder of mutton before the prophet, then went towards
the door. Perceiving Manasseh in the corner, she severed his bonds with
a quick stroke of a small dagger, then, shielding him as best she might,
she bade him begone.

"Have hope!" she whispered in his ear. "I have poisoned the prophet."

Manasseh uttered an exclamation of horror.

"Why not?" she said, with a laugh. "Manasseh fights with a lance, Zaynab
with poison. Now, fly, ere they see you!"

Manasseh hastened down the dark streets to the house in which Kedar had
been placed. He found the youth moaning feebly. Hurrying out, he caught
a couple of stray camels, and fastened a shugduf in its place. Then,
raising the youth in his strong arms, he laid him in the shugduf, and
set off in the darkness.

To Mecca he must go. It was a long, weary way. He had little money, and
the few provisions which a Jewish woman in the house gave him would not
last long; yet he trusted to Providence, and remembered with
satisfaction that the dates were now at their ripest. He would nurse
Kedar tenderly; they would journey in the cool shades of night when
there was less danger of being stopped on the way. Planning thus, he
proceeded, as noiselessly as possible, with his precious burden, through
a gap in the wall, and urged his faithful beasts on in the cool nig