and sycamores. But he himself was wounded; his horse was
bleeding in a dozen places; and close behind him were three Saracens,
well mounted, and thirsting for his blood. It may seem to the reader,
that such being the circumstances, Bisset might as well have fallen at
Mansourah or with Walter de Chatillon at the entrance to the narrow
street leading to the house to which the king had been carried. But,
certainly, that was by no means his view of the case; for he was one of
those warriors who never despair; and he turned on his pursuers like a
lion at bay.

'Surely,' said he, speaking to himself, 'wounded and weary as I am, I
should be but a poor Christian knight if I could not deal with three
pagan dogs.'

And terrible, even to brave foes, was the ferocity and fury with which
Bisset turned upon the Saracens. Mighty was the force with which he
swung a battle-axe, ponderous enough to have served as a weapon to Coeur
de Lion. Crushed by one swoop of the axe fell the first of the
pursuers--down, as it again swung on high, fell the second, who a moment
earlier was uttering threats of vengeance. But the English knight had no
inclination to encounter the third antagonist. His horse, as he felt,
was sinking; he himself was weakened by loss of blood; and, quick as
thought, he turned towards the wood of palms and sycamores.

But a new difficulty presented itself. Between Bisset and the wood was a
very deep ditch which at another time would have made him pause. Now,
however, he did not hesitate, even for an instant. He touched his steed
with the spur; he spoke as if imploring the noble animal to make a last
effort; and the result was a gallant bound. But the effort was too much.
In exerting itself to scramble up the opposite bank, the good steed
broke its back; and the knight, freeing his limbs from its corse,
quickly drew his dagger and relieved it from suffering.

The delay, however, had proved dangerous. Even as he gained one bank of
the ditch the Saracen was at the other, and preparing to launch a
javelin. One moment only intervened between the Crusader and death; but
that moment was not neglected. With his remaining strength Bisset raised
his battle-axe, whirled it with irresistible force, and, as the weapon
whizzed through the air, the Saracen dropped from his horse and rolled
into the ditch, the water of which immediately became red with his
blood.

Not a moment did Bisset now waste in getting under cover of the wood.