"That she should fall into the hands of Salah-ed-din, or back into those of the master of the Assassins?
Choose which you wish." "I choose Salah-ed-din," broke in Rosamund, "for at least he is my uncle, and will do me no wrong." Nor, knowing the case, did the others gainsay her.
Now at length the summer day began to break, and while it was still too dark to travel, Godwin and Rosamund let the horses graze, holding them by their bridles.

Masouda, also, taking off the hauberk of Wulf, doctored his bruises as best she could with the crushed leaves of a bush that grew by the stream, having first washed them with water, and though the time was short, eased him much.

Then, so soon as the dawn was grey, having drunk their fill and, as they had nothing else, eaten some watercress that grew in the stream, they tightened their saddle girths and started.

Scarcely had they gone a hundred yards when, from the gulf beneath, that was hidden in grey mists, they heard the sound of horse's hoofs and men's voices.
"Push on," said Masouda, "Al-je-bal is on our tracks." Upwards they climbed through the gathering light, skirting the edge of dreadful precipices which in the gloom it would have been impossible to pass, till at length they reached a great table land, that ran to the foot of some mountains a dozen miles or more away.

Among those mountains soared two peaks, set close together.