little company looking like an oasis of leafless poplars. The Count was
instantly astride his Arab charger, at the head of his men, ready to
meet whatever came, but on this occasion the enemy made no effort to
bring on a battle, but remained silent and stationary, differing
greatly from the hordes that had preceded it.

"Well," cried the impatient Count, "if Mahomet will not come to the
mountain, the mountain for once will oblige him."

He gave the word to charge, and put spurs to his horse, causing instant
animation in the band of Saracens, who fled before him as rapidly as
the Germans advanced. It is needless to dwell on the project of the
Emir, who simply followed the example of the desert mirages he had so
often witnessed in wonder. Never did the Germans come within touch of
their foes, always visible, but not to be overtaken. When at last Count
Herbert was convinced that his horses were no match for the fleet
steeds of his opponents he discovered that he and his band were
hopelessly lost in the arid and pathless desert, the spears of the
seemingly phantom host ever quivering before him in the tremulous
heated air against the cloudless horizon. Now all his energies were
bent toward finding the way that led to the camp by the water-holes,
but sense of locality seemed to have left him, and the ghostly company
which hung so persistently on his flanks gave no indication of
direction, but merely followed as before they had fled. One by one the
Count's soldiers succumbed, and when at last the forty spears hedged
him round the Emir approached a prisoner incapable of action. The
useless sword which hung from his saddle was taken, and water was given
to the exhausted man and his dying horse.

When the Emir Soldan and his forty followers rode into camp with their