and a
mighty cheer burst from the prophet's men.

Manasseh was stationed at the head of a band of horsemen, whom he was
now with difficulty keeping in check. Yet for a moment he forgot all in
watching a figure that was ascending the breach.

Whose but Asru's that gigantic form? Whose but Asru's that floating
turban of white--that helmet in which flashed a diamond placed there by
Kenana's own hand? Whose but Asru's that clanking sword and that
three-pronged spear which none but he could wield?

"Surely now the Moslem will waver!" thought the youth; and with bated
breath he watched this second combat, waged beside the bleeding form of
Asru's dead brother.

With dauntless air the Moslem awaited the coming of Asru. They closed
upon each other. The armies looked on, motionless, breathless, the
combatants struggled, a writhing mass, broken only by the flash of the
spear and glitter of the lance, as deadly blows were dealt or
parried--and the sunshine rained from above. The very air seemed to
stand still in watching, and the clash of every stroke was borne, with
painful distinctness, to the ears of Asru's friend.

The combat was an equal one, Ali's agility matching well the superior
strength of his antagonist, and it was not soon over. At last the Moslem
seemed to stagger.

There, there, Asru, strike! He falls, he falls! There is your advantage!
Strike! Joy, joy! victory is ours!

But no! Ye gods, what is wrong! Why stands Asru there, helpless? Why
does he not act? By Allah, he loses time! Ha! his turban end has become
twisted over his eyes beneath his helmet! Help! Help! Ye gods! Ha! Ali
rises with a sharp recoil! He strikes! Woe! Woe! Asru is down!

A shout breaks afresh from the Moslem army as the brave Asru's body is
dragged to one side of the breach. And now the Moslems dash forward like
an avalanche. The breach widens; the green and yellow turbans swarm
within the walls. Manasseh's horse dash forward. Over the open square a
detachment of Moslem horse is spurring, the horsemen bending low as they
ride, their maddened animals, gorgeous in trappings of scarlet, yellow
and blue, with tails knotted at the ends, "like unto the heads of
serpents." With regular sway the long spears swing with the motion of
the horses.

Clash! The opposing forces meet. Men fall. Horses roll over in the dust.
Back! Back! The Moslems are in headlong flight! Yet one youth fights on.
Straight for the young Jewish leader he dashes. Blows r