but they
would not. He stormed at them, but they replied: "Nay, we will
die together."

Masouda looked at the horses Flame and Smoke, which seemed but
little troubled.

"So be it," she said; "they have carried double before, and must
again. Mount in front of the lady, Sir Godwin; and, Sir Wulf,
give me your hand, and you will learn what this breed can do."

So they mounted. Forward started Flame and Smoke with a long,
swinging gallop, while from the Assassins above, who thought that
they held them, went up a shout of rage and wonder.

"Their horses are also tired, and we may beat them yet," called
the dauntless Masouda. But Godwin and Wulf looked sadly at the
ten miles of plain between them and the river bank.

On they went, and on. A quarter of it was done. Half of it was
done, but now the first of the fedai hung upon their flanks not
two hundred yards behind. Little by little this distance
lessened. At length they were scarcely fifty yards away, and one
of them flung a spear. In her terror Rosamund sobbed aloud.

"Spur the horses, knights," cried Masouda, and for the first time
they spurred them.

At the sting of the steel Flame and Smoke sprang forward as
though they had but just left their stable door, and the gap
between pursuers and pursued widened. Two more miles were done,
and scarce seven furlongs from them they saw the broad mouth of
the bridge, while the towers of Emesa beyond seemed so close that
in this clear air they could discern the watchmen outlined
against the sky. Then they descended a little valley, and lost
sight of bridge and town.

At the rise of the opposing slope the strength of Flame and Smoke
at last began to fail beneath their double burdens. They panted
and trembled; and, save in short rushes, no longer answered to
the spur. The Assassins saw, and came on with wild shouts. Nearer
and nearer they drew, and the sound of their horses hoofs beating
on the sand was like the sound of thunder. Now once more they
were fifty yards away, and now but thirty, and again the spears
began to flash, though none struck them.

Masouda screamed to the horses in Arabic, and gallantly did they
struggle, plunging up the hill with slow, convulsive bounds.
Godwin and Wulf looked at each other, then, at a signal, checked
their speed, leapt to earth, and, turning, drew their swords.

"On!" they cried, and lightened of their weight, once more the
reeling horses plunged forward.

The Assassins were upo