pon the
head of Ja-khaz which sent him headlong to the ground with a broken
skull.

[Illustration: The Slaughter of the Persians]

All this had happened in a moment, and wild confusion followed. My
followers drew their arms and rushed upon the Mehrikan. The girl ran
forward either from terror or to shield her spouse, I know not which,
when a flying arrow from a sailor's cross-bow pierced her to the
heart.

This gave the Mehrikan the energy of twenty men.

He knocked brave Kuzundam senseless with a blow that would have killed
an ox. Such fury I had not conceived. He brought his flying staff like
a thunderbolt from Heaven upon the Persian skulls, yet always edging
toward the door to prevent his enemies surrounding him. Four of our
number, in as many minutes, joined Ja-khaz upon the floor. Kuzundam,
Ad-el-pate, Fattan-laiz-eh, and Hae-tak, a sailor, lay stretched upon
the pavement, all dead or grievously wounded.

So suddenly had this taken place, that I hardly realized what had
happened. I rushed forward to stay the combat, but he mistook the
purpose, struck my scimitar with a force that sent it flying through
the air, and had raised his staff to deal a second for myself, when
brave Lev-el-Hedyd stepped in to save me, and thrust quickly at him.
But alas! the Mehrikan warded off his stroke with one yet quicker, and
brought his stick so swiftly against my comrade's head that it laid
him with the others.

When Lev-el-Hedyd fell I saw the Mehrikan had many wounds, for my
comrades had made a savage onslaught. He tottered as he moved back
into the doorway, where he leaned against the wall for an instant, his
eyes meeting ours with a look of defiance and contempt that I would
willingly forget. Then the staff dropped from his hand; he staggered
out to the great portico, and fell his length upon the pavement.
Nofuhl hastened to him, but he was dead.

[Illustration: The Last of the Mehrikans]

As he fell a wonderful thing took place--an impossible thing, as I
look back upon it, but both Nofuhl and I saw it distinctly.

In front of the great steps and facing this doorway is a large sitting
image of George-wash-yn-tun. As the Mehrikan staggered out upon the
porch, his hands outstretched before him and with Death at his heart,
this statue slowly bowed its head as if in recognition of a gallant
fight.

Perhaps it was the sorrowful acceptance of a bitter ending.

[Illustration: "This statue slowly bowed its head."]