ere all thorough soldiers, true sons of
the desert and of their race--men whom nature seemed to have conceived
as a counterpart to the eagle, the master-piece of the winged creation.
Keen-eyed, strongly-knit though small-boned, bereft of every fibre
of superfluous flesh on their sinewy limbs, with bold brown faces and
sharply-cut features, suggesting the king of birds not merely by the
aquiline nose, they had also the eagle's courage, thirst for blood, and
greed of victory.

Each held on to the raft by one lean, wiry arm, carrying on the other
the round bucklers on which the arrows that came whistling from the
boat, fell and stuck as soon as they were within shot. They ground their
white teeth with fury and nothing within ken escaped their bright hawk's
eyes. They had come to fight, even if the boat had been defended by
fifty Egyptian soldiers instead of carrying a score or so of sailors and
artisans. Their brave hearts felt safe under their shirts of mail, and
their ready, fertile brains under their brazen helmets; and they marked
the dull rattle of the arrows against their metal shields with elation
and contempt. To deal death was the wish of their souls; to meet it
caused them no dread; for their glowing fancy painted an open Paradise
where beautiful women awaited them open-armed, and brimming goblets
promised to satisfy every desire.

Their keen ears heard their captain's whispered commands; when they
reached the ship's side, one caught hold of the sill of the cabin
window, their leader, as quick as thought, sprang on to his shoulders,
and from thence on to the deck, thrusting his lance through the body of
a sailor who tried to stop him with his axe. A second Arab was close
at his heels; two gleaming scimitars flashed in the sun, the shrill,
guttural, savage war-cry of the Moslems rent the air, and the captain
fell, the first victim to their blood-thirsty fury, with a deep cut
across the face and forehead; in a moment, however, a heavy spar sang
through the air down on the head of the Moslem leader and laid him low.
The helmsman, the brother of the fallen pilot, had wielded it with the
might of the avenger.

A fearful din, increased by the shrieks and wailing of the nuns, now
filled the vessel. The second Arab dealt death on all sides with the
courage and strength of desperation, and three of his fellows managed
to climb up the boat's side; but the last man was pushed back into the
water. By this time two of the