Nearer and nearer they drew, and the sound of their horses hoofs beating on the sand was like the sound of thunder.

Now once more they were fifty yards away, and now but thirty, and again the spears began to flash, though none struck them.
Masouda screamed to the horses in Arabic, and gallantly did they struggle, plunging up the hill with slow, convulsive bounds.
Godwin and Wulf looked at each other, then, at a signal, checked their speed, leapt to earth, and, turning, drew their swords.
"On!" they cried, and lightened of their weight, once more the reeling horses plunged forward.
The Assassins were upon them.

Wulf struck a mighty blow and emptied the saddle of the first, then was swept to earth.

As he fell from behind him he heard a scream of joy, and struggling to his knees, looked round.

Lo! from over the crest of the rise rushed squadron upon squadron of turbaned cavalry, who, as they came, set their lances in rest, and shouted: "Salah-ed-din! Salah-ed-din!" The Assassins saw also, and turned to fly--too late! "A horse! A horse!" screamed Godwin in Arabic; and presently-- how he never knew--found himself mounted and charging with the Saracens.
To Wulf, too, a horse was brought, but he could not struggle to its saddle.