sharp summons for surrender the good knight responded by drawing his
sword, and, wounded and bleeding as he was, put himself in posture for
defence.

The fight that followed was as fierce as some of those told of King
Arthur's knights. Long and sturdily the two champions fought, foot to
foot, sword to scimitar, until their shields and armor were rent and
hacked and the ground was red with their blood. Never had those hills seen
so furious a fight by so well-matched champions, and during their
breathing spells the two knights gazed upon each other with wonder and
admiration. Magued had never met so able an antagonist before, nor
Pelistes encountered so skilfully wielded a blade.

But the Gothic warrior had been hurt by his fall. This gave Magued the
advantage, and he sought to take his noble adversary alive. Finally, weak
from loss of blood, the gallant Goth gave a last blow and fell prostrate.
In a moment Magued's point was at his throat, and he was bidden to ask for
his life or die. No answer came. Unlacing the helmet of the fallen knight,
Magued found him insensible. As he debated with himself how he would get
the captive of his sword to the city, a group of Moorish cavaliers rode up
and gazed with astonishment on the marks of the terrible fight. The
Christian knight was placed by them on a spare horse and carried to
Cordova's streets.

As the train passed the beleaguered church its garrison, seeing their late
leader a captive in Moorish hands, sallied fiercely out to his rescue, and
for some minutes the street rang sharply with the sounds of war. But
numbers gathered to the defence, the assailants were driven back, and the
church was entered by their foes, the clash of arms resounding within its
sacred precincts. In the end most of the garrison were killed and the rest
made prisoners.

The wounded knight was tenderly cared for by his captor, soon regaining
his senses, and in time recovering his health. Magued, who had come to
esteem him highly, celebrated his return to health by a magnificent
banquet, at which every honor was done the noble knight. The Arabs knew
well how to reward valor, even in a foe.

In the midst of the banquet Pelistes spoke of a noble Christian knight he
once had known, his brother in arms and the cherished friend of his heart,
one whom he had most admired and loved of all the Gothic host,--his old and
dear comrade, Count Julian.

"He is here!" cried some of the Arabs, enthusiastically, p