Then he paused, and looking round to Heimbert he trotted back and said, "Thou seemest too good, methinks, to perish here of hunger and thirst.

Beware! my good sabre shall touch thee." Heimbert, who had again stretched himself hopelessly on the burning sand, was quickly roused to his feet by these words, and seized his sword; and sudden as was the spring with which the Arab's horse flew toward him, the stout German warrior stood ready to parry the blow, and the thrust which the Arab aimed at him in the Mohammedan manner he warded off with certainty and skill.
Again and again the Arab sprung; similarly here and there, vainly hoping to give his antagonist a death-blow.

At last, overcome by impatience, he approached so boldly that Heimbert, warding off the threatening weapon, had time to seize the Arab by the girdle and drag him from the fast-galloping horse.

The violence of the movement threw Heimbert also on the ground, but he lay above his opponent, and holding close before his eyes a dagger, which he had dexterously drawn from his girdle, he exclaimed, "Wilt thou have mercy or death ?" The Arab, trembling, cast down his eyes before the gleaming and murderous weapon, and said, "Show mercy to me, mighty warrior; I surrender to thee." Heimbert then ordered him to throw away the sabre he still held in his right hand.

He did so, and both combatants rose, and again sunk down upon the sand, for the victor was far more weary than the vanquished.
The Arab's good horse meanwhile had trotted toward them, according to the habit of those noble animals, who never forsake their fallen master.
It now stood behind the two men, stretching out its long slender neck affectionately toward them.