ver the canal, to attack us in the rear.'

'Sir knight,' replied the French drily, for they did not relish an
Englishman's interference, 'it is not from that quarter that danger is
most to be apprehended.'

'Nevertheless,' urged Bisset.

'We are wasting time to no purpose,' said the French; 'and this day,
time is more precious than your counsel.'

'As you will, my masters,' replied Bisset; 'only credit me, that if you
leave that bridge behind you to facilitate the operations of your
enemies, you will place your army in such a predicament, that neither
the craft of Alexander of Macedon, nor William the Norman--could either
come from their graves to lead--would avail to save it from destruction
ere reaching Damietta.'

And having administered this warning, Bisset withdrew, with the
consolation of a man who has done at least his duty, and with the air
also of a man much too reckless as to his personal safety to fear much
on his own account from the consequences of the blunders and incapacity
of others; then, arming himself, he saddled his steed, girded on his
sword, hung his battle-axe at his saddle-bow, and went to attend King
Louis during the perilous enterprise of marching through a country, with
armed foes posted at the turn of every road.

'Hearken to that English tail,' said the French one to another, as
Bisset withdrew; 'these islanders are so timid, that they will next be
afraid of their own shadows.'

'By the head of St. Anthony,' said a knight, who had been attached to
the Count of Artois, 'I hate the tailed English so, that I would leave
the bridge as it is, if only to mortify one of them.'

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE MASSACRE OF MINIEH.

IT was already dark when the pilgrim army commenced a perilous retreat
to Damietta, and when the King of France, surrounded by a band of brave
knights, undertook the duty of bringing up the rear--on that occasion
the post of honour.

But Louis was in no condition to occupy such a position with advantage.
He was not fully recovered from his sickness, and so weak, that he could
hardly bear the weight of his armour, or support himself on his white
charger. Neither helmet nor cuirass wore he; nor had he any weapon save
his sword; nor had he sufficient strength to wield his sword to any
purpose in the event of a close encounter.

And, as it happened, the post of honour speedily became the post of
danger. As Bisset had predicted, the Saracens lost not a minute in
avai