lon shook the King's hand from his shoulder.
"Let me tarry no longer," he cried. Then springing to horse he rode
swiftly away.

Meanwhile Charlemagne lay encamped, awaiting Marsil's answer. And
as one morning he sat beside his tent, with his lords and mighty men
around him, a great cavalcade appeared in the distance. And presently
Ganelon, the traitor, drew rein before him. Softly and smoothly he
began his treacherous tale. "God keep you," he cried; "here I bring
the keys of Saragossa, with treasure rich and rare, seven hundred
camels' load of silver and gold and twenty hostages of the noblest of
the heathen host. And King Marsil bids me say, thou shalt not blame
him that his uncle the calif comes not too, for he is dead. I myself
saw him as he set forth with three hundred thousand armed men upon the
sea. Their vessels sank ere they had gone far from the land, and he
and they were swallowed in the waves." Thus Ganelon told his lying
tale.

"Now praised be Heaven!" cried Charlemagne. "And thanks, my trusty
Ganelon, for well hast thou sped. At length my wars are done, and home
to gentle France we ride."

So the trumpets were sounded, and soon the great army, with pennons
waving and armor glittering in the sunshine, was rolling onward
through the land, like a gleaming mighty river.

But following the Christian army, through valleys deep and dark, by
pathways secret and unknown, crept the heathen host. They were clad
in shining steel from head to foot, swords were by their sides, lances
were in their hands, and bitter hatred in their hearts. Four hundred
thousand strong they marched in stealthy silence. And, alas! the
Franks knew it not.

When night came the Franks encamped upon the plain. And high upon the
mountain-sides, in a dark forest the heathen kept watch upon them.

In the midst of his army King Charlemagne lay, and as he slept he
dreamed he stood alone in the valley of Roncesvalles, spear in hand.
There to him came Ganelon, who seized his spear and broke it in pieces
before his eyes, and the noise of the breaking was as the noise of
thunder. In his sleep Charlemagne stirred uneasily, but he did not
wake. The vision passed, and again he dreamed. It seemed to him
that he was now in his own city of Aix. Suddenly from out a forest a
leopard sprang upon him. But even as its fangs closed upon his arm,
a faithful hound came bounding from his hall and fell upon the
savage beast with fury. Fiercely the hound grapple