paused.

"Well done--bravely done!" shouted the Hebrews who were rushing on from
behind.

"He is no Gentile, though he be a Greek!" cried the wild shrill voice
of Jasher; "onwards, upwards, warriors of Judah! one struggle more, and
Bethsura is ours!"

Almost at the top of the ladder, almost close to the wall, gasping,
straining, bleeding, struggles on the young Greek. A stone strikes his
shield, smashes it, stuns, disables the left arm which upheld it; slain
by a dart, the Hebrew just behind him falls crashing from the ladder!
The brain of Lycidas is dizzy, his ears are filled with wild clamour,
he is conscious only that honour and most probably death are before
him, still he mounts, he mounts! Two powerful Syrians have seized the
upper end of the ladder; with an effort of gigantic strength they
thrust it back from the supporting wall with its living burden of
clambering men, all but one, the foremost! Lycidas feels the ladder
beneath him failing, with a tremendous effort of agility he springs as
it falls at the wall, catches hold of it with his right hand, and
flings himself up on the parapet. But not one moment's breathing-space
is given him to start to his feet, or grasp the sword which he has
carried hung round his neck. He cannot rise, he cannot resist; swords
are gleaming above him; those who have thrown down the ladder seize the
Greek to hurl him after it! A thought of Zarah flashes across the
reeling brain of the young man, is it not his last?--no, a broad shield
is suddenly thrust between Lycidas and his assailants, they shrink back
from the sweep of a terrible sword; up the other ladder the strong and
brave have pressed with irresistible force; Judas Maccabeus himself has
planted his foot on the bulwarks, has driven back step by step their
defenders before him, and has arrived at this crisis in the fate of
Lycidas to preserve for the third time the life of his rival!

The banner of Maccabeus is planted on the highest tower of Bethsura,
and as it waves in the light of the evening sun, such a loud wild shout
of triumph rises from the victors, as might be heard for miles around!
It reaches Zarah in her hut, and sends a thrill of hope and exultation
through her heart, for she knows the shout of her people, and none but
conquerors could have rent the air with such a cheer as that! It is
followed by the cry "Jerusalem, Jerusalem!" as from the Hebrew heroes,
in that their hour of success, bursts that name