ristian in my very
dwelling. Malique! Alagraf! Where are ye, villains? Guards! Seize the
wretch, seize him, and drag him to death!"

"Stay!" cried the stranger, in a voice of thunder; "stay! ere thou
darest to offer the least violence to me--nay, advance but one foot, and
I'll strike thee to the earth."

Caneri was awed by the noble and fearless manner of the stranger.

"A Christian!" he continued, in a more subdued voice, "and darest thou
in my very dominions to utter such vaunting threats? Dost thou forget
that these are the Alpujarras, and that I am Caneri?"

"I am no Christian," replied the stranger: "a Moor, a true Moor am I,
but one who blushes to count Caneri amongst his associates."

"Speak!" cried Caneri, bewildered, "Speak! what mystery is this? Who
then art thou?"

"Know me, then," returned the other, and throwing aside his disguise,
discovered a man of tall stature and athletic proportions. On his dark
bronzed countenance there was an expression of bold defiance and cool
resolution; his eyes were lighted up with the fire of noble courage, and
although no tender feeling could be detected in his stern features, yet
they were not altogether devoid of generosity. He was a model of
mountain beauty, wild, majestic, and free from artful decoration. A
simple Moorish tunic, which the most humble of his followers might wear,
covered his manly figure, and the only mark of distinction by which his
dignity could be recognized was a scarf of green, the sacred colour, and
a large buckler on which was portrayed a noble lion, surmounted by the
Arabic motto,[28]

_Edem pasban derwish est aslan._[29]

Caneri gazed in astonishment, and almost bereft of the powers of
utterance could only exclaim----

"El Feri!"

"Yes!" answered he. "El Feri de Benastepar arrives in time to witness
the honorable occupation of his colleague in command, whilst our brave
companions remain unburied and rotting on these wild solitudes, and the
proud Christian pursues us like the hungry tiger, giving us not a
moment's repose; whilst our forces have been routed and slaughtered by
the victorious Alonso de Aguilar, and the few that have escaped his
murderous sword, in conjunction with El Feri, are compelled to seek for
safety in disguise and flight; I thought we should meet with succour and
assistance in the mountain home of Caneri--and how do I meet him? Not
ready in arms to cover our retreat; not laudably occupied in providing
resources